"take my hands, if we be friends,"

Impact. I never thought that would be a word used to describe me at all: an impact. But today, it was.

A lot of woman (and man) hours, legwork, reprimanding, pushing, stretching, and raised voices went into the past three weeks. Almost more so with this past week than with the weeks before; I tried not to let any of those kids slide back into the depths of their comfort zones.

And the feeling I have after today can't be put into words yet, except that I actually found out I made some small difference in at least one person's life, and the joy and pride that comes with that knowledge is indescribable.

Next year? Oh, I think so. For now, I'm working on getting back to a workable sleep schedule. And writing more, hopefully, now that my brain is (mostly) freed up from theatre teacher mode.

The overhead speakers in the lobby where I worked always cranked out the Broadway Pandora station, at least, whenever the Technical Director was in. More than once over the past three weeks, while waiting for parents to sign for dropping off their kids, I have listened to "Seasons of Love" from Rent. I don't like Rent. But I love that song. And it's been stuck in my head all afternoon and all evening.

This week was so much more rewarding--even though we had a bunch of kids who "did this last year," when it was different, we managed to challenge them, and stretch them, and teach them how to challenge and stretch themselves. One of the best moments was watching one of the oldest girls perform her monologue--which was a Biff moment from Death of a Salesman, by the way (I gave them some pretty sophisticated scene work, man)--utilizing her space, actually staying consistent in her New York dialect, speaking clearly, projecting her voice, focusing on an other, and finding the moments of stillness in the monologue. It was so powerful, listening to this 14-year-old girl (who I kind of want to adopt as my kid sister) deliver something so heavy, so against her type, and do it so convincingly; it was a punch-the-air-wildly moment for me--and then she went on as Schwartzy from 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee and completely changed into a different person.

I had at least six different kids come up and say thank you for everything I'd done for them this week, and four of them said they would be here next year if I would. Considering we'd worked these guys, running them through their paces until their paces picked up, and teaching them the importance of body and voice and connection in any performance--and we weren't easy, no way--I was actually really surprised, but lo and behold, we got hugs today.

My co-facilitator, the boss man, and I were debriefing at the sports bar across the street, and going over both camper and parent evaluations--the most negative thing was said by a camper, and it was that we "weren't flexible." (Which is fine with me.) And half of the parents said, for what they saw their child get out of it, the price was a bargain. (!!!)

...is this...pride? What...what is this feeling? What did we just accomplish?

I guess that's one of the hardest things about being a teacher--results, more often than not, don't come quickly; gratification isn't completely immediate. I won't know how much of an impact I really made on these children's lives until a longer ways down the road, if at all.

But this was totally worth it.

(No, this does not change my mind about not having children. I'd rather teach than raise.)