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WSWS : Arts
Review : Theater
Powerful truths, limited aims: No Child by the Epic
Theater Center in New York
By Sandy English
26 June 2006
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No Child, written and performed by Nilaja Sun, directed
by Hal Brooks, produced by the Epic Theater Center at the Samuel
Beckett Theater, New York City
The actors and playwrights of the Epic Theater Center aim at
social responsibility through art. As the companys mission
statement indicates, it hopes to demonstrate the central
role of the arts in a healthy democracy. Its upcoming season
will present a number of political pieces, including Judith Thompsons
My Pyramids, about the Iraq war and Ariel Sharon Stands
at the Temple Mount and Dreams of Theodore Herzl by David
Zellnik.
Through its successful Journeys Series, Epic Theater
uses ancient Greek drama and Shakespeares works to teach
public school students in New York City about theater. This latter
effort has now generated an Off-Broadway play based on the experiences
of one of its teacher-actors, Nilaja Sun: No Child (a play
on words on the Bush administrations retrograde educational
act, No Child Left Behind). In this one-woman comedy set in a
contemporary classroom in the Bronx, Sun plays the roles of several
students, two teachers, a principal and a janitor.
The lead character is Sun herself as a drama teacher who has
been hired with grant money to direct a class in performing a
play at their school. She has picked Our Countrys Good
by Timberlake Wertenberger, about convicts from Britain arriving
in Australia in 1788 who perform a version of George Farquhars
1706 The Recruiting Officer.
No Child begins with a conversation between Ms. Sun,
the drama teacher, and her landlord. She tells him that she has
a new job and can pay her back rent. The all-too-typical pleading
that poor New York City artists often do once a month is carried
off with a grace and humor that endears us to the play immediately.
Sun reminds us of the stark social inequality in New York when
she travels to her new job from 59th Street in Manhattan, in the
richest congressional district in the city, to Brooke Avenue in
the Bronx, in the poorest, in 18 minutes on the No. 6 train.
As she arrives in Ms. Tans tenth grade classroom, Sun
instantly transitions into the weary and defeated English teacher,
slouching her shoulders and showing none of the energy necessary
to discipline or propel her class.
The students come in slowly, most of them late. They shout
and abuse each other. They call Ms. Tan, who is of Asian descent,
Pork-fried rice. Sun becomes Jose, who tells her,
Miss, you should be scared of this class, cause we
supposed to be the worst class in the whole school. Her
new students are the Latino, Caribbean, and African-American children
of the most impoverished urban county in the United States (Bronx
County).
Sun becomes the class leader Jerome who sits with his arms
and legs open, challenging Ms. Sun; she then turns into Shondrika,
who primps and delivers attitude. The audience laughs, but there
is a pathos in the dislike the students have for themselves and
in their disrespect for their own education, which seems more
of a lost cause to them than to anyone else.
Ms. Sun manages the class better than Ms. Tan. She tells the
students that they are now thespians (the students relentlessly
pun the word) and that We may even think. It is encouraging
(and hilarious) to watch this woman fighting for culture
among those who have been denied culture.
Sun also transforms herself into the elderly janitor, Mr. Jackson,
who acts as the plays chorus. He comments on the action,
the children and the school. He describes the metal detectors
that the children must pass through every day, the five security
guards and the police officers with guns. Sun becomes one of the
guards, a harsh Jamaican woman, who makes students strip off nearly
every item of clothing.
As the days go by the play begins to have an impact on some
of the students. Jerome tells Ms. Sun how they relate to Our
Countrys Good, Because we treated like convicts
every day.
But the difficulties mount, and Ms. Sun gives up. She lets
the class vote on whether it will continue the play and the answer
is no. As she leaves the classroom, Sun becomes Ms. Kennedy, the
principal, who admonishes her. We did not get an $8,000
grant to give a lesson on democracy! She will make a round
of calls to the parents, and threaten the students with loss of
privileges.
Ms. Sun continues teaching the class. It is uplifting when
one student who has given Ms. Sun so much trouble quotes Timberlakes
play: The theater is an expression of civilization.
More problems ensue, endemic to the New York City school system:
a student cannot pronounce the words in the play, a child cannot
be found, a teacher quits.
Our Countrys Good gets produced, and there has
been a transformation, within the bounds of the difficulties.
Simply to have a small success affects the students. Toward the
end of the play, a pregnant student tells Sun, My baby will
not live like a prisoner.
The characters are rendered well. At times Sun hits on a social
type perfectly. The principal, Ms. Kennedy, for example, is like
so many of the heads of inner-city schools: pragmatic, tough,
with little regard for elementary rights, but in her own fashion
devoted to educating her students. No doubt the popularity of
Suns one-woman play among teachers is attributable in part
to the fact that she depicts the people inside school buildings
honestly.
In contemporary American culture, such types are almost never
depicted at all, or when they are, it is done through stereotypes
(one thinks of the work of Spike Lee). Nilaja Sun portrays each
of her characters compassionately, with nearly flawless transitions
as she changes from one to the next.
No Child deserves credit for emphasizing that students
in New York City public schools know they are prisoners, that
they are not there to be educated, but controlled. This is not
a new insight, but there is something fresh and even urgent in
the way Suns work presents it.
New York City has a school system of one million students and
80,000 teachers. Every day, after being exposed to police, metal
detectors, overcrowded classrooms, often overwhelmed teachers,
these students must cope with tense, overworked parents or siblings
that need care or a host of other social problems.
This is the stuff of high art, and New York is the cultural
center of the United States. By the law of averages, one would
expect a few of the thousands of writers, painters, filmmakers
and musicians who reside in the city to attempt an artistic representation
of the lives of so many.
But that is not the case. One can think of hardly any authors
who present these people to us. Simply and accurately depicting
the inhabitants of public schools is culturally verboten.
To a certain extent Nilaja Sun is striking out on her own,
and so for all its honesty, No Child inevitably has serious
limitations. In particular, it is satisfied with too little. A
teacher shakes up the routine oppression of the poorest youth
by using the theater. But the play does not suggest the possibility
of hoping for more than this. How has life in the city schools
come to this? The problems of the characters fail to exist in
time, with a past and a future.
At one point in the play, the janitor-narrator tells the audience
a little about the history of the school, but only a very little.
He was there when the most of the students were Italian-American,
when the population became primarily African-American, then during
the heyday of black nationalism in the 1960s when the Black Panthers
started their free breakfast program. There is almost no link
between past and present.
While it catalogs the human effects of a social disaster, No
Child is unable to locate the origins of the disaster. Early
in the play, Sun quotes Rousseau: Man is born free, but
everywhere he is in chains. But this is left as a one-liner.
Rousseau himself followed up this sentence with an examination
of social history. Relatively little thought has been given in
the preparation of this piece to the historical roots of the conditions
in New York City public school classrooms. They didnt come
out of nowhere. Poverty, social inequality, cultural regression
... there is much to talk about.
During a post-performance discussion, Nilaja Sun confessed
that she had cut the janitors monologue on the history of
the school. In earlier performances she noticed that the audiences
eyes began to glaze over. There may have been another way to examine
the history, but pleasing the audience is a poor excuse for cutting
back on it.
The speakers in this discussion included a student intern,
an Epic Theatre founder and a representative from the New Visions
Schools. The latter is a multi-million dollar program funded by
the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation. It sponsors a number of
new, small schools within the New York City public school system,
often in some of the lowest performing districts.
The program of New Visions is to create smaller schools with
smaller class sizes, and advisory programs. Each school has a
different theme, but in general they are directed toward sending
working-class youth to college. These are laudable goals, but
they cannot by their nature address the crisis in education. Society
has a responsibility to educate all its children, and any society
that fails in this deserves to be indicted. The presence of New
Visions in the discussion speaks more to the limited aims of No
Child and the Epic Theatre.
The discussion itself was intelligent and sometimes angry.
A number of teachers in the audience praised the plays veracity,
but in tones of frustration and resignation. The conversation
did not rise above the need for moderate reforms like New Visions:
good teachers or smaller schools can save a few students. The
word poverty did not come up.
No Child is an honest and truthful piece of work about
circumstances that millions face every day. As it is, though,
the play does not enlarge our view of life sufficiently.
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