I did a five-week Shakespeare Summer Intensive two weeks after school ended.
Part of our training is stage combat - with swords.
I struggled.
In my second class I completely lost it.
Called Spawn to talk me off the cliff, but then one of my teachers and another member of admin saw me crying so they came to me.
Kevin (Adler admin) said to me: You can’t be good at everything.
I stopped crying.
But Stage Combat class became a special time for me.
I mean this seriously: If there were a learning disabled classification for physical movement… I’d be diagnosed.
Remembering dance steps, combat moves… just doesn’t stick in my brain.
I took to recording the fight choreography on my phone so I could learn it.
There started to be a routine with Stage Combat class:
The actual class.
After the class
The ‘after the class phone call to Spawn
The after the class phone call to Spawn went something like this:
Me: Guess what I’m doing.
Spawn: Crying.
Me: You’re a genius and you’ve won today’s prize:
Spawn:
So, yeah… I cried during and after most of my classes.
I was sooooo very frustrated with myself.
Buuuuuut, here’s the thing: I was getting the choreography right.
I kept doubting and second-guessing myself.
Because I was on a full work-study scholarship, I worked Tuesday - Friday nights, 6:30 to 10:30 so rehearsing with my partner after school was out of the question.
She was in New York for two Summer Intensives so of course on weekends she was exploring the city.
So, I practiced on my own.
But I’d get confused.
I felt awful about myself for not being able to remember my choreography.
My inability to remember the choreography was putting my scene partner in physical danger.
If I made the wrong move, she could be where she’s supposed to be, but my sword is going elsewhere and she could get hit.
Steve, the head Stage Combat teacher said: I’m worried that you could hurt someone.
I said: I’m worried and scared about that too.
As we got closer to performance day, Steve watched us fight.
I was still shaky.
I was ashamed of myself because she not only knew her choreography, she knew mine.
Stage Combat class for me was filled with a well of shame and embarrassment.
I wasn’t keeping up with the class.
I was holding my scene partner back.
I left almost every class in tears.
Don’t get me wrong, I’d cry through the stage fight.
Don’t worry, I told my teachers. These tears come on their own. Pay no attention: I’m here to fight.
So I’d cry and fight in class and then call Spawn.
I’d settled into a routine.
One day, near the end of our Intensive, Steve said to me, lean on your partner, she would call out where I was supposed to be.
The audience wouldn’t be able to hear her.
Again, I was awash in shame that I didn’t know my choreography solid, or that I did and was constantly second-guessing myself.
Either way.
So the crying, second-guessing, doubting continued.
Until…
… I talked to Steve, the head of the Stage Combat Department.
We were chatting when…
… he gave me what I called ‘a bitch slap from reality.’
You come in here expecting to fail.
He was right.
He said this to me right before we were to perform our sword fight in front of friends and some admin from school.
The last class.
I went home and thought about what he said.
I changed my attitude.
I decided I needed to wear a ‘Bad Bitch’ outfit.
Yes, I may have worn faux leather leggings.
None of my other classmates was in such an elaborate costume… but that’s because *I* was the bad bitch.
I told myself that I could do this.
We went through practice rounds.
I *did* mess up a little.
It’s time to fight.
We fight.
It goes well.
I had messed up once but my partner covered for me.
But I only made one mistake.
(She covered for me.)
I defeated *myself* in that class.
I learned some valuable lessons that I *needed* to learn *before* my third and final year.
Have confidence and patience and stop being so hard on myself.
Even when it’s tough, even when it takes me longer to learn, even when I’m riddled with self-doubt, there’s one thing I can do: Be my best self, show up expecting to be where I am supposed to be.
Don’t compare myself to others.
It’s okay if I learn differently.
It’s okay to go to my teacher if I’m struggling.
My attitude sets my situation.
Trying and failing actually *isn’t* failing, it’s learning.
I have combat classes for my third year.
I am going to *crush* it!
Click here to watch my fight scene.
My bad bitch outfit