J. Houston Elementary

Houston!  Eagles!  Houston!  Eagles!  A crowd of 800 children aged four through eleven shout back to Elia Camarillo, a smiling principal in jeans and a blue Houston Eagles t-shirt, holding a microphone. 

“All right Houston Eagles! It’s Friday!  Now I want all of you to show your Houston pride and respect as we list off the birthdays this week!  Ready?” The kids sit cross-legged in rows, grouped by grade level.  Some kids are fidgeting or leaning over to whisper to a friend; others are quietly looking up.  A few walk on tiptoe between their classmates, trying to find a spot to sit on the cafeteria floor. The names are announced with each birthday celebrator standing up and getting a colorful birthday pencil.  Everybody sings “Happy Birthday Cha Cha Cha!” to raucous joyful applause.

I worked for two years at J. Houston Elementary in the Dove Springs neighborhood in southeast Austin. The orderly chaos of morning assembly in the cafeteria was just one of the many ways that the space filled with life and energy.  Later in the morning, while the students were divided up in their classrooms, a group of mothers spent an hour dancing and exercising with Zumba, swinging arms and legs rhythmically with Cumbias, Reggaeton, and Bachatas.  On some days, guest speakers would come; the front half of the cafeteria could be the solar system, and kids would revolve around each other, rotating to demonstrate the gravitational interactions of the heavenly bodies.  On another day, pre-teen musicians would perform, having come from Medez Middle School a few blocks away to demonstrate their instruments.  

At the end of the year, the fifth graders would dress up in their finest dresses, dress shirts, and slacks, proudly marching across the stage as a symbol of their graduation, their progress from elementary school to middle school.  Parents would sit at tables behind them, cheering and taking photos as the fifth graders shook hands with the administrators and took their diplomas.  They, then, ceremoniously served cake and punch to their parents.

Leaving the cafeteria, and walking outside, there are sidewalks; one goes straight toward the Fifth Grade Building and the portables, and another goes left towards the Fourth Grade Buliding and the gymnasium.  Next to the gym is a basketball court with a tall blue tarp spread out above it like a monochromatic circus tent.  This space too was a center of activities and action.

Fall Carnival would appear in October with dozens of games, hundreds of prizes.  Soda bottles set up like bowling pins: if you could throw a ring around one, you could take it home.  Plastic fish in a kiddie pool full of water: if you hooked one with a plastic fishing lure, you would get a real live goldfish in a clear plastic bag full of water.  You would be very lucky if it was alive the next day.  Haunted houses in the small portable classrooms, a train that circled the concrete in between the portables.  Wrappers, plastic bottles, and other assorted food trash littered the grass and dust in between the concrete surfaces.  Teachers, custodians, and perhaps a few kids picked some of it up, and would take care of the rest on Monday.

These memories adjoin with many experiences for me, and I was only there for two years.  My colleagues who have spent 20 or 30 years must have so many more.  The kids, who spend their childhoods there, perhaps even more.  It is a special place, with a core of pride and at times a community spirit that would amaze anyone.

Improv Comedy

Improv Comedy

This is happening in the moment. There’s no plan, and it’s so spontaneous it even the people creating it are thrown off their guard at times! Improvisational comedy, or Improv, as its fans call it, is a form of theater in which everyone on stage is inventing their lines as they say them.  There is no script; there is no memorization.  Quick-witted performers have to stay on their toes to deliver hilarious (and sometimes heartbreaking) lines and time them so that an audience stays on board.  

Over the years, I’ve seen some great shows. One group that I have enjoyed consistently over the years goes by the unwieldy name of Parallelogramaphonograph (P-Graph for short).  They consist in four members – three of whom are co-owners of the Hideout Theater – and they perform long-form shows that last around one-and-a-half hours.  The setting and genre are often determined from the beginning; I’ve seen shows ranging from family photos from the 1950s to Victorian comedies of manners to a Sci-Fi space movie parody.  They study and plan for the character types, time period, location, and other broad-brush genre characteristics, but the action and dialogue of the play are completely improvised.

Another popular style involves a host who introduces actors to short challenges or scenarios.  Maestro is the Hideout Theater’s incarnation of this, but many people have seen this style of performance on the television show “Whose Line Is It Anyway?”  These short pieces often involve audience suggestions, and the actors have to incorporate the audience’s idea while playing a two-headed monsters or pretending to speak and/or interpret non-sense gibberish.  Often there is some method for scoring these short performances; the judge may gauge audience applause or may use his or her own preferences to rate the performers.  At the end of this style of show, one performer emerges as the winner, although I don’t think there are any real prizes; the competition aspect seems more of a gimmick for the audience.

So, how does improv work?  What allows a scene to continue and flourish rather than slump and die?  The principles known as “Yes, and…” has a lot to do with keeping the momentum of a scene. This guideline encourages actors to always affirm what the other actors have stated; improvisers never shoot down ideas, but rather build on what their collaborators have created.  If one actor says, “Look at this amazing guitar – Jimmi Hendrix played this guitar at Woodstock!” Don’t kill her mojo by saying, “No it’s not.  That’s stupid.”  Welcome her suggestion, and add to it.  “That’s right – Mr. Hendrix gave it to my grandmother that very day, and she has had it in our attic ever since!  Would you like to play it?” In this way, the actor moves the action forward and gives the others something to work with to make the story continue in a creative way.

Voice seems to be a really tricky piece of Improv, and acting in general.  None of us has a perfectly consistent voice; we change our approach and our patterns depending on our situation and whom we’re talking to.  However, for a character in a play, the audience needs to believe that you are one person.  The voice needs to be consistent enough to be convincing.  That’s a good reason to be very cautious when trying to do an accent that is not your own.  If you start it but can’t keep it up, the failure will be very noticeable.

However, improvisers say that failure is opportunity.  They welcome failure as a lesson in humility and in resilience.  Everyone flops on stage sometimes, but the ones who are able to resurrect the performance are the ones who really amaze an audience.

Improv comedy can be found at the Hideout Theater, Cold Towne Theater, Salvage Vanguard Theater, and many other locations.  I highly recommend checking out a show and trying a class.  You will meet very creative people of all personality types, and you’ll get a chance to exercise your own creative muscles.  It’s also a great way to get over stage fright or insecurities about speaking with strangers.  I hope you’ll give Improv a try!