Isn’t it great when a child “gets it” – when the metaphorical penny drops and they understand what you’re telling them. Their eyes light up, and sparkle with the confidence of one who has understood. There’s a moment of connection, of the shared joy of knowledge imparted and learned.
One of the things I enjoy about writing short plays for my students is the opportunity to teach them idiomatic language. Everyday expressions can be very confusing for some people, especially if they don’t have an English speaking background, or if they are very literal thinkers – like those on the autism spectrum. I find play-acting a powerful medium for teaching idioms,puns and double entendres, because it can put things in context. And it’s sheer good fun.
Last year, we did a spy spoof with James and Jane Blonde, or B1 and B2 for short – no, not the Bananas in Pyjamas, although this was a running gag throughout the play. This year, we are being somewhat more sober explorers, with Burke and Wills recruiting for a new expedition, and a case of mistaken identity when Wills is confused with someone of a more regal background.
Of the three ditzy royal watchers, one I had visualised as being so cool, she’s practically frozen – the sort of teen who masks her excitement by pretending not to be excited at all. I was describing the character to the girl playing her, and explaining the pun in “dead famous”. She suddenly “got the pun, repeated the line exactly as I had imagined, then added “OMG”, with appropriate pausing. It was perfect!
I was very excited that my student had captured the character so well, and she was pleased that she had done a good job. I told her that I loved her ad lib at the end, and that I was going to add it to the script. That made her even more pleased!
After getting her to repeat the line a couple more times, I asked her to say it without looking at the script, which she did. Well done, I told her. You just learnt that off by heart! More smiles and just a little more straightening of the shoulders as the student became a role model for the other students.
“See how quickly and easily she learnt that line,” I told the class. “You can all do it just as well.” It was interesting watching their reactions as they contemplated the implications of this. What was the net result of all this? Well, for a start, I felt great at the end of the lesson. It was one of those lovely times when everything “clicked”. A student who typically hides her insecurity behind brashness felt confident about her achievement, the magnitude of “learning lines” suddenly seemed less daunting to the entire class, and at the very end, one of my explorers came up to me and said, “Jennie, listen – I’ve learned my line!” I couldn’t have asked for more.
