Thank You, Jacques d'Amboise

I just re-watched a documentary that my parents taped for me about 20 years ago. It's about Jacques d'Amboise and his National Dance Institute, a program that goes into schools and teaches dance to kids, ending with huge spectacular shows, involving thousands of kids, that he calls "The Event of the Year."

It's basically Trickster - an artist in residency program that I do - but all dance instead of theatre, and, if it's possible, on an even bigger scale. When I was a kid I used to love to watch that documentary, I watched it over and over. I never wanted to be a teacher, I wasn't interested in that side of it. I was interested in the experience of the kids, who were so like me. I took part in big dance shows as a kid, and I remember the experience of being a part of that group, of feeling the theatre fill with the energy of a hundred other kids, and the energy of the parents who want to see their kids be amazing (and are never disappointed).

At the beginning of a Trickster week, when I may be leading, and coordinating all the logistics for the week, plus being responsible for liaising with the parent volunteers, and coordinating my team to set up all the equipment, I barely have brain capacity to devote to the running of my three or more workshops. And yet that's what it's supposed to all be about. It makes the beginning of weeks so stressful for me, and makes me question whether I'm in the right profession.

But by Thursday, when it starts to come together, and you feel that magic in the air, as the kids start to take the ball and run with it, take the responsibility away from us, and take it on themselves. As they start to know what's about to happen and they start to feel that same magic I felt as a kid, which made me go into the arts, that's when the job seems worth it to me. I remember even as a very young child being moved by the moments in that documentary where it's almost show time, and Jacques is going around giving last minute words of wisdom to all his thousands of kids, and he tells them to have fun out there. Those are the moments that make the job a privilege and a joy. It's so easy to forget those in the stress of early mornings, late nights, pressure to make everyone happy, and my own exhaustion. But I hope, when I plunge back into school next week, I can take a little of that boundless energy of Jacques, a little of the joy and the selflessness, and remember what it was like when I first heard him say "You cannot fail if you've done your best." It sounds corny, because I've heard it so many times, but I always forget that it may be the first time a child has heard it. And here's Jacques, who's built a life and a legacy out of that one idea. And enriched the lives of millions of children in the process.

I am privileged to do what I do. It's not easy, and it's not even always fun. But in the words of one of Jacques' kids, "It always leads to fun."