I could never teach the subject. I dreaded the drama cover – the 8th years kept climbing up curtains or walls or under pianos or into cupboards. They seemed to be only enacting Kung Fu Head Crushers.
“Agincourt, sir.” “Good versus Evil, sir!” Ho ho. I was clueless, probably because I was stuck in my 1950s grammar school. We did drama incarcerated in our desks. It was where the subject went to die. It seemed a branch of Elocution. Not quite proper. A bit girly. Real men did Bunsen Burners and ablative absolutes – and inhibition.
Well, no more. Not in Ms Marlowe’s class. It’s as serious as your life. This is teaching without fear, safety nets or desks. I watch an 8th year lesson and am introduced to thought-tracking, freeze-framing, sub-texting, hot – desking and snapshots.
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