we all say the Shema with them, when our class ends at 8 p.m., I ask everyone to cover their eyes and say the first pasuk (verse) of the Shema. (Photo courtesy of Lauren Stein)Īfter I heard that the soldiers request that every night at 8 p.m. We played countless scenes, including one where a boy in a bathtub was asked to get up, and declined, saying, “My rubber ducky has to defeat the army first.” We also did deliberately bad improv, which is easy and hard at the same time, but also very freeing and very fun.Ī scene from Lauren Stein’s improv class. In subsequent classes, we made up words and their definitions we made up products and created commercials for them we invented yoga positions and Sanskrit-gibberish names for them and their English meaning (including one called Bomb Shelter Asana). Our first class emphasized light-hearted games like Tree Nut Squirrel, 5 Things, and 4 Corners (modified with 5 players.) We did a complete play of La Ronde, exploring the small town of Georgetown, Anywhere, where the occult bookshop is run by a sinister proprietor, the wealthy woman who lives at the opera house goes to the soup kitchen, and one of the town’s only Jewish residents has a moral dilemma when she discovers that the Girl Guide cookies she’s selling as her bat mitzvah project are not kosher. So when we did scenes where I called out genres, and one that seemed fitting was Murder Mystery, I instead said, “Mystery! As in – everything is a mystery!” They went on to ask questions and collect clues about absolutely anything around them. Another student added that for him, he requests no murder at all. She qualified, no gruesome murder something gentle and painless would be okay. In class this Monday night, someone requested that there be no murder in any scenes. In addition to usual things like, “Please don’t touch me,” one student added, “I have a boundary that no rocket fall within an 18-km radius of our class.” I often ask if anyone has boundaries for our class. But being able to remember, in community, that there are wonderful things around us, and that even in tragedy we have things to be grateful for, shifted our perspective. Or we felt guilty for having good moments, or even for being alive when we lost so many souls recently. Many of us had been so focused on things that are terrible, some of us had forgotten to notice the good things, or that they even existed. After the war started, this took on a bigger significance. In Jerusalem, I begin my classes with a round of gratitudes. And I needed to!” And, “This was an oasis, nourishment for my soul.” They said things like, “I didn’t realize that I hadn’t laughed since the war started. One student was attending a funeral at the time of our class. Not sure how I feel about improv tomorrow.” Some were out of the country, or in another part of the country. It depends on the situation tomorrow,” and “I just saw my son off to Gaza. I got answers like: “I’m a bit unsure about coming. Please let me know whether you are interested in joining or not.” There may be issues with busses or roads, I don’t know. I posted in our chat: “Tomorrow night I will offer our class as usual, as a chance to have fun, release stress, and be together. “Please run your Monday night class,” one of my students begged me. Do people even want improv at a time like this? I didn’t know whether it would be in bad taste to continue. 7, my regular Monday night class was scheduled to resume after the break for the holidays. Submissions can be sent for consideration to Lila Sarick at. The CJN is publishing dispatches from Canadians currently in Israel.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |