She works hard for the money

I work hard for the money....If only I had more...(don't worry I'm not begging your sympathy, donations and food parcels. Although I'm a polite young lady and would never turn them away. Please email for my address.)  

However, mumble-grumbling aside, I am feeling very lucky at the moment regarding work (amount of and quality of), and am still slightly reeling over my good fortune to be working with the groups and colleagues that I do.

'Who are they all?' I hear you ask, with an expression as eager as....my face looks a lot of the time. I'm a very eager person. Well, I shall reply by giving you The Break-Down. I tested my Dad on all my 8 (or something) jobs recently and he did pretty well, considering I can only remember all of them if I use my fingers. Don't worry, I won't be testing you, dear reader (to go a bit Charlotte Bronte), with some bizarre interactive blog-post version of Kim's Game. Although I would if I had the technical prowess.

So, in no particular order, these are Kate's jobs, clearly listed for your perusal:

Attic Theatre Company - jointly running weekly Drama workshops as part of Many Voices, one of Attic's outreach projects, working with young refugees/unaccompanied minors.

Crime Reduction Initiatives (C.R.I.) Abstinence and Aftercare, Munster Road - Creative writing and Drama, each once a month, working with men and women who are at different stages of recovery from substance misuse.


CoolTan Arts - Poetry Tutor for women who experience mental distress, for a community arts organisation who believe mental well-being is enhanced by the power of creativity.

Prendergast Vale College - Yr. 7 Drama teacher at a new comprehensive, co-ed. school in Lewisham, teaching a weekly Drama class.

Three Faiths Forum - inter-faith/inter-cultural facilitation in schools, both Drama-based for their School Linking programme, and as a facilitator for their Education team, delivering workshops/presentations in schools.

QUIT - Youth Presenter/Advisor for Quit Because, their youth programme, delivering smoking awareness workshops in schools and other youth settings.

Teen Boundaries, part of Family Lives - Outreach Worker, running workshops about sexualised bullying, sexual violence, the objectification of different genders, and other important issues like that. This is a new job I will be starting after Easter and I'm really excited, as I strongly believe that sex education in schools needs to develop its focus on emotional education and the complexities of sexual relationships (with any gender).

Diversity Role Models - 'Role Model'/speaker for DRM, working in schools to combat homophobic bullying by presenting 'real life' people to talk to them, of a spectrum of sexual identities. I've written about them on here a couple of times, so scroll to earlier blog posts if you are interested.

Ummm.... Is that it? Have I forgotten any? I'm on Cragrat's books as a freelancer, but haven't had any work yet. Oooh, and I'm sort of setting up a theatre company with my good friend Madelaine, but more on that soon (suspense, suspense)...


*I should put a little disclaimer to say that the title of this post is only referencing the fact that I'm working pretty damn hard, rather than any allusion to prostitution (haven't had to go down that road yet) which the song always seems to suggest to me.

At the end of the day...it was NOT miserable

Too many blog posts to write, too little time... I keep thinking of things I want to write about (and even vaguely composing them in my head on the tube), but so few of them seem to happen; my life has been pretty mental recently - lots of new things to relate on here job-wise...I should probably write a blog post about them!

But I really do want to mention my exciting day last Sunday (not updating chronologically, but hey, as my students would say: 'And what?').

I think it will take me a very long time to forget Sunday 11th March 2012. Firstly, I got to spend a beautiful day on the wonderful Annie McKean's narrow boat (she even let me drive a little bit!), with friends and family, on a gorgeous spring day. The kind where, as Philip Larkin would say, 'The trees are coming into leaf/ Like something almost being said'. THEN we went to HMP Erlstoke to see Les Miserable, a Pimlico Opera production, with professionals and prisoners.

It was seeing West Side Story by Pimlico Opera in HMP Winchester, when I was 14 years old, that triggered the epiphany moment where I realised what I wanted to do with my life. As the men stood there singing:

There's a place for us

Somewhere a place for us

Peace and quiet and open air

Wait for us 

Somewhere.

There's a time for us

Somewhere a time for us

Time together with time spare

Time to learn, time to care

Some day!

 ...etc!

I remember the hairs standing up on the back of my neck; feeling shocked and sad and proud and filled with hope. I thought: the arts AND social justice - my two favourite things!

HMP Erlstoke

Skip forward ten years and I'm queuing to get into another prison (my fifth?) and I'm thinking: Les Mis AND Prison Theatre - my two favourite things! (Nearly - please forgive my rhetorical flourishes, Miss Fox, cheesecake and my family). I do have a particular attachment to Les Mis, not just because I love the music and I have strong memories of choreographing dances to 'At the End of the Day' with my sisters in our living room when I was little, but also because over last summer while I was writing my thesis and permanently had my head in a library, whenever I was feeling despairing or uninspired or angry with the librarians using 'Outdoor Voices' (I thought I was going to commit librarianicide), I used to plug my headphones in and listen to songs from the soundtrack on Youtube until I felt ready to work again. Many a day spent sitting in the sticky heat, staring at piles of pointless paper and listening to 'One Day More' VERY loudly....

Anyway, this isn't just a little Les Mis memory fest. No, no, no. I really want to talk about what went on inside HMP Erlstoke that beautiful spring evening, how powerful, affecting and inspiring it was.  As I said, I've seen a number of Pimlico productions before. They have a very different methodology to the other Prison Theatre companies I've worked with, namely Playing for Time and Clean Break, although I won't go into an in-depth discussion of the pros and cons of each now; you'll have to take me for a coffee (and a brownie, the brownie is obligatory) to hear my detailed analysis of the prisoner experience, the aesthetic merits and the complexities of process Vs product, if you want to get my fuller views on the subject. But I will just say that this year I was really pleased to see the prisoners were more integral to and integrated into the final production, with only the women and Jean Valjean and Javert played by professionals. The prisoners playing Marius, Gavroche and Thenardier stood out as particularly excellent. It was such a good choice of musical, as well, as there are obviously themes of justice, culpability and redemption throughout. Think: 'Look down/ Look down/ They've all forgotten you', 'Drink with me to days gone by/ To the life that used to be' and, evocatively, 'Who am I?'

Who were they?   Actors.       Artists.         Brave.

Les Mis in HMP Erlstoke - image from Pimlico Opera website

Losing my Diversity Role Models virginity

On Tuesday morning earlier this week, I volunteered for the first time for Diversity Role Models, a charity which I wrote about in an earlier blog post which aims to combat homophobic bullying in schools. I practised my little talk on the doddery Metropolitan line up to the school in Harrow that morning, and had made an effort to look quite feminine - both because I feel a bit more confident in schools sometimes with a bit of make-up on, and also because (with my particularly short hair at the moment) I wanted to try and counter any obvious (butch) stereotypes that the young people might have regarding what a 'lesbian' (or bisexual, or a woman who is in a relationship with another woman) looks like. I had decided to talk a bit about having a 'straight' identical twin, as in the training we had discussed how that might be a good discussion  point and something that the young people found interesting. Generally, it seems that our over-riding message was, 'Hey, we're just people, and being L, G, B, or T isn't the most interesting thing about us'. We might feel it is a huge part of our identity, we might not; we might think a label defines us, we might not. Most of all, it's just about who we love - and does that really need to provoke hate, abuse or fear?

It was an amazing morning and I was really impressed by the honest and self-awareness of the students (aged 12-13). Many students wrote on their feedback forms that the thing they had enjoyed the most was the refreshing honesty from adults, who were prepared to talk openly and confidently about their sexuality and answer their questions, and some wrote that their favourite thing was meeting a real life gay person for the first time. One student even wrote on his feedback sheet that the thing s/he enjoyed least was 'realising how much I use the word gay and feeling embarrassed and ashamed about it, as know it is offensive' - how honest and self-aware! And others wrote that the thing they enjoyed least was 'hearing about the boy Dominic who killed himself as it made me sad and angry'. It was interesting and moving reading them back, and confirmed to me how frighteningly important DRM's mission is.

I left feeling inspired. Buzzing. Full of thoughts and questions, ideas and emotions. I can't wait to go in again.


Post-script
Couple of other DRM things:
Check out this video on youtube by the L Project: It Gets Better, aiming to help raise awareness and monies for charities (including DRM) which work to prevent LGBT bullying among young people

Also go visit the Diversity Role Models' blog (I would particularly recommend the entry 'To Gay or Not to Gay?') and also the article on the Observer the other week about homophobic bullying and Dominic Crouch.

This is England...

He pointed out at the boys playing football on the school sports pitch in the drizzle.

'This is very nice.'

I assumed that since he had only been learning English for three and a half months, he probably hadn't mastered sarcasm yet.

'Ummm.... Yes...?'

'England is very nice. No trouble. This....' - he gestured around him - '...very...quiet. No boom boom boom.' He made an internationally recognised hand signal.

'Gun fire?'

'Yes. I like England.'

At the end of the workshop he came up and shook my hand.

'I am very looking forward to next week, for Drama. I see you next week.'

'Yes. I'm looking forward to it too.'

And I am. Although there is a bit of trouble at the school, at the moment, and the young refugee boys are being targeted and victimised by some of the other students at the school, to such an extent that one of them had to be escorted home for his safety, and we had to end our workshop early so we could escort them back to the area of the school where they study until they are ready for timetabled classes, before lunch break so they were safe.

It makes me sad.

It's also interesting that these boys, who have arrived here from all across the world (predominantly Afghanistan, but also Poland, Bulgaria, Sri Lanka, Romania, Pakistan, Albania....) start off so, so polite and respectful; they are, I think - and they do articulate this, best they can - so grateful to be here, to be safe and to be studying in a British school. But then, as they become more confident,and more importantly I think, as they see the behaviour of the students in the school around them - much less respectful and polite, feeling far less privileged to be getting an education - they start to emulate the attitude of the British boys. Picking up on their walks, their language, their ways of interacting. One of the teachers in the 'Link', where the young migrants study until they are ready to be thrust into the mainstream, said, with a sad sigh, they become 'British-ified'. He said, 'We want them to integrate, just not too much!'

Working in all the different contexts and community groups that I do has so many benefits and one of these is just gaining insights into different worlds I wouldn't normally enter; it raises so many issues: social, political, cultural, personal... It sounds a bit trite to summarise it like this, but it makes me think a lot. Miss Fox was right: my education is continuing all the time.

Diversity Role Models

At the end of conferences I am known to surreptitiously secrete the left-over teabags about my person. Or the occasional carton of orange juice. It's the way I roll. Intellectual stimulation, perhaps new networks created and friends made, and one of my 5-a-day for the rest of the week - who could ask for more? But a training event I attended last night truly surpassed all others, as I left with a bulging bag stuffed to the brim with left-overs: a bottle of wine, soft drinks, and a (Blue Peter-esque) tin foil tray, artfully folded to contain samosas, rice, pitta bread and fancy salads. The catering had been generously sponsored (as had the rather nice venue in Red Lion Square) by law firm Mishcon de Reya - so I'll raise a glass to them. I'm currently tucking into a stuffed vine-leaf as we speak (I type).

However - believe it or not - it was not the culinary delights of last night (and lunch time today) that inspired me to write this post. Far from it. Instead, I really wanted to say a little bit about Diversity Role Models, who were running the training.

DRM's mission is to combat homophobic bullying in schools by educating young people about differences in sexuality and gender identity. Their method is to communicate with students directly, using positive role models to counter negative stereotypes and educate young people about diversity. Last night I was training to be one of those role models. It feels a bit strange to say that, to be actively putting myself forward as a role model; I'm sure if many parents saw the messy state of my bedroom (I will get tidier, I promise) they'd baulk at the idea of me as a perfect role model. But at DMR we were assured that we're not set up as aspirational emblems; we do not need to be 'successful, attractive or brilliant', indeed if we all were I guess we'd fail at representing diversity. The point is that we are real people, who represent a broad spectrum of sexual identities (in fact, in my opinion, each and every person represents a different sexual identity, as how can such an intrinsic and personal thing be anything other than unique), and are happy to talk to young people about what it means to be L, G, B, T, straight, queer, or however we self-identify.

It was such an inspirational evening. And I don't say that lightly. I feel so, so passionately about this agenda: about tackling homophobia, prejudice, fear and intolerance. At a time where LGBT (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender) young people are three times more likely to attempt suicide and two thirds of them suffer bullying at school, how is this not important?

The event was really thought-provoking as well. It made me cast a retrospective eye over my time at school: Had people come out? (only one in my year, and it didn't end well) What were the prevailing attitudes to homosexuality? (I did a survey for my Sociology coursework at sixth form on this topic and was surprised to find so many 'It's Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve' attitudes, in what I thought was quite a liberal area) What about casual homophobia embedded into everyday language? ('That's so gay', 'Don't be so gay!', 'Urghh, they should be re-named GAY Levels!' Poor excuse for a pun. Gay, gay, gay - you hear it everywhere, and not in the sense my grandma still uses it. I remember hearing it for the first time when I was about 11 and being quite upset. When did this become acceptable?). And what about LGBT role models? Sparse would be an under-statement. Some of the others there were quite shocked by my revelation that I know basically no gay women (with the obvious exception of my beautiful girlfriend, the fabulous Miss Fox!), and certainly no Older Wiser Lesbians (OWLs - a term Gem introduced me to a while back). We need diverse role models. Young people need to know that 'gay' isn't just an insult and doesn't just mean one type of person.

Any excuse for a picture of an owl...

Listening to the other role models there to be trained, and the stories they told, I felt privileged to be party to their honesty, humour and insight.


So, a little plug: if, like me, you think this is an important issue, check out the Diversity Role Models website, or even visit their charities trust page.

Gosh, I feel all impassioned and stuff... Maybe I should use the excess energy to go and tidy my room. Or fervently apply for jobs I don't really want and would be paid tuppence for.... Maybe I'll just have another samosa and quietly reflect on the state of the world.  
   

Totem

Not exactly Applied Theatre-related, but just need a quick chance to rave about Totem by Cirque du Soleil, directed by Robert Lepage, which I saw on Sunday night as a belated birthday present from my dad and his wife.

I've been a big Lepage fan for years, ever since I saw The Dragons' Trilogy when I was at sixth form, and had never seen Cirque du Soleil before and always wanted to, so Totem looked perfect.

The multi-talented Mr Robert Lepage

And it was! Mind-blowing. In fact, I kept realising I was holding my breath and grabbing the edge of my seat during the various acts - partly because despite intellectually knowing that they probably weren't going to fall and die (they hadn't so far), I kept waiting for something to go wrong.

It made me realise: a) they must have all trusted each other A LOT; b) they must have trusted themselves A LOT; c) sometimes you do have to see something to believe it; d) beauty is under-rated; e) tree-frogs are under-rated; f) I can't even juggle and have little chance of successfully running away with the circus. It is a sad thing. I'm sure I realised some other even more profound things - the kind of profundity that can only be contemplated in the wake of beautiful art, but turns to ghosts and shadows when the curtain goes down - but I'm not sure what they were. All I know is that when I shut my eyes to go to sleep a couple of hours later, the evolution of the world was dancing around in leotards and leaping between trapezes on the inside of my eyelids.

It was magic. 

Maybe I'll practice my juggling. I can almost do two balls now...

2012 begins...

So, here we are at the end of the first week of the new year, with a 'Goodbye 2011' and 'Hello 2012'. And now we are in the post-festive January doldrums.

Although never a big fan of an overly-glitzy (read: expensive and potentially dissatisfying) NYE - instead much more excited by the prospect of an evening with Sherlock and Ab Fab on New Year's Day (huzzah!) - I do quite like the opportunity that the onslaught of a new year provides to take stock, make some plans, set some unrealistic targets, pause and revise them to more realistic ones. So, along with committing to being more tidy (which I have never quite managed to sustain to the standard I would like, despite resolving this every year since I was about 7 years old), eating a more varied diet and doing more exercise (I will try, this year, I will), I've also been staring at the empty pages that seem to fill most of my diary for the great 2012... Now, looking at the year ahead, I'm sorry Mr Cameron, but - and look away now anyone who will be aghast, horrified and other relevant synonyms by this - but I really would struggle to give less of a shit about the Olympics and the Diamond Jubilee. Apparently that is what I am supposed to be focusing on and excited about. Whoops.  

In his new year message, David Cameron tells us: 'This will be the year Britain will see the world and the world sees Britain'. Sadly, I think it's very unlikely that (once again) I will have enough money to see any of the world this year. Cue violins, obviously. And furthermore, in reference to this year's 'main events', a) I sort of feel like I have more pressing things to think about, like if I have enough money for food, and how to get rid of the damp round the windows, and why despite one thousand calls to Virgin our internet STILL doesn't work properly; and b) whenever we are told to focus on something, it is my instinctive reaction (blame it on the occasional units on Marxism throughout my formal education and reading The Guardian) to wonder what it is they are trying to get us to not focus on. Like wavy lines in pre-migraine vision, on the periphery, not centre stage. Unemployment? NHS reforms? Over-flowing prisons? Gosh, it's too depressing to even continue the list.

But wait! This is miserable. I don't want to be miserable! Can't start the year on a downer. Even if I have finished all my chocolate money and feel guilty that I haven't sent all my thank-you cards, it's January and cold and will probably get dark in about 5 minutes. Winter is brilliant! January must have a secret brilliance! The cold is brilliant! The world is brilliant!

OK, perhaps there is a middle-ground. I should get a bit more Buddhist. 'Global drama' and 'glory' aside, there are things to look forward to this year, not excluding Sunday night 'Sherlock' for the next two weeks. Look at those cheek-bones...

And I shall fill up some of the pages in my diary with wholesome 'crafternoons' with my sisters (where we do crafts - cos we're cool, innit), trips to free museums, and reading books I got for Christmas. January will not be dull! (And obviously applying for more jobs, to increase the likelihood of getting paid for work. I'm keen and reliable. Tell your friends.)

Post script: Interesting that Cameron kept using the word 'bold', which was the note I finished my last post on. He totally stole my word (which I stole off Michael Grandage). I'm glad he says he will be bold; I just hope it's in directions that are profitable for all.

It's not just about the hat...

On Monday 12th December 2011, I became a graduate of the Central School of Speech and Drama, with much gown-tweaking, hat-throwing, men in drag, enthusiastic clapping, and general Drama school, jazz-hands merriment.

It was actually a wonderful ceremony. With both a twin sister and an older sister (Dr. Rachel - who, we have joked, collects universities), my parental group have attended their fair share of university graduation ceremonies, and even they agreed that Central won hands down (it wasn't cold, there weren't long speeches in Latin, even though it was December it was sunny...). It was both a moving and entertaining event; it was so lovely to see so many of my MA cohort again (although sad that some of the international students weren't able to be there) and also to see all of the undergraduates celebrating.

The best thing about the ceremony was that it was a celebration of the arts, and the power of the arts. Both Prof. Gavin Henderson and Michael Grandage gave very powerful speeches, as did those introducing the very exciting Honorary Fellowships: Joseph Seelig and Helen Lannaghan introduced by William Burdett-Coutts; Bette Bourne ('honorary fella....ahem fellow' - what a legend!) introduced by Mark Ravenhill; and Carrie Fisher introduced by Debbie Reynolds.There was a great sense of fun and humour in all of the speeches, and I loved the fact that at least two male students receiving their qualifications were dressed in drag - the PhD student who went through a process which appeared not dissimilar to being knighted was wearing EPIC high heels! Some of the other students, however, could (in my humble opinion) have taken more careful consideration over their choice of footwear, as half my row held their breath as some of the female students tottered their way across the stage. Only at Central can the men walk in high heels more gracefully than the women...

My drama (with a small 'd') of the afternoon was that I temporarily lost my mortar board, and spent the whole of the slightly unusual dance piece at the start of the show desperately scouring the floor and passing notes reading: 'Have you seen my HAT????' Fortunately, we didn't have to wear them on stage, and - with a jubilant flash of realisation - there was a perfect moment to rectify my loss of hat: when all the other students threw theirs into the air with carefree abandon! Ha! Kate once more had a hat. I'm not a bad person; there will have been a spare one lying around somewhere (wherever the hell I left it). And really there's a life lesson there: never throw your hat too high....

On a serious note: the best thing about the ceremony was that it was a public celebration of new talent, a coming together of adults of all ages who are hopefully about to embark on exciting careers in the arts. Maybe even wearing a golden bikini one day and being the subject of a whole genre of male (and female) fantasy. Or just making a difference: entertaining, harnessing the power of the arts, using drama for social and political purposes. It is a sad fact that the arts do not always get the public and political recognition they deserve, but there we all were: all together, clapping til our hands were sore, for students who cared - really cared - about the arts.

I recently learnt from news from the Social Arts Network (SANe) that the Office of National Statistics (ONS) is currently consulting on the first set of national well-being measures, and SANe, Play's the Thing, ArtsProfessionals and the Happy Museum Project were exclaiming their dismay and shock that current proposals do not include specific measures related to Arts and Culture. They stated:

'If cultural activity is to be at the heart of future government agendas, it is vital now that the cultural sector starts to shout loudly about the contribution made by the arts to personal well-being.'

They are working on a co-ordinated response, about which you can read more here.

I take some hope from all that enthusiastic clapping (and some of the jazz hands) last Monday - there is a new generation of practitioners, and some of us are going to try bloody hard to make a difference. Michael Grandage told us to be bold. We will be bold. We need to be.

The People's Story

Yesterday, I attended a premiere screening at the BFI of a documentary of a project by Age Exchange, a charity which works in the field of reminiscence, running intergenerational projects to bring people and communities together.

I first came across Age Exchange and their work when I was in the second year of my undergraduate degree and David Savill, their current artistic director, came and ran a workshop with my Applied Theatre class. Many of the class hadn't really considered this area of work - 'nah, I'm not really interested in working with old people' - as Helen Nicholson once put it, it's not 'sexy' Applied Theatre: no prisoners or victims of torture, no exciting venue, just an old people's home down the road where you'll have to drink lots of tea and hear about old people's grandchildren. Such was the attitude of many of the class. But after hearing about Age Exchange's work it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that many students left the class fascinated and inspired.

Then in my second term at Central I chose to do a case study on the company for my module on Theatre and Social Exclusion, after attending a seminar on intergenerational practice, as part of 'Age to Age', the Lewisham Intergenerational Festival, and became further acquainted with the powerful impact of their work.

Yesterday, the documentary screened was of a project called The People's Story, a major intergenerational project working with the diverse communities of Enfield and Edmonton. This project spanned 18 months and was run in partnership with London and Quadrant Housing Trust, who manage lots of the social housing in the area and were keen to work on a project which promoted community cohesion. It was a fascinating documentary, by film maker Ivan Riches, and the event was made even more poignant by many participants from the project sitting in the audience, sharing in the enjoyment and excitement of the occasion, and the following Q&A with the directors, funders and participants.

The project had produced a great many products: a theatre piece, film, recorded interviews and visual art; however it felt important to hear at the end David Savill emphasising that the process (which had no doubt been a challenging, yet rewarding one) was far, far more important than the many products. Malcolm Jones, their arts and education co-ordinator, reiterated that their work was never a "smash and grab raid on older people's stories to make a product", but rather a process of mutual respect, trust and generosity.

I know I personally left feeling moved, inspired and full of ideas (hmmm...does anyone know of a secret pot of money I can tap into? Or do I need to consider the soul destroying process of funding app.s?). AND there was a free lunch with amazing brownies! What more could you ask for?

What is a 'cragrat' anyway?

So, the most recent edition to my 'freelance portfolio' (gosh, I do sound grown up, don't I? Well, I did turn 24 this week) is with Cragrats, who offered me a job last week.

Cragrats 'specialises in the design and delivery of high-impact experiential learning programmes', and I will be working as one of their tutors, going into schools to deliver Enterprise Education days. I had my training session this afternoon, and am now really looking forward to my first booking in a school.

And I discovered that a cragrat is someone who climbs mountains. So I've developed my vocabulary as well; I do like learning new words. Like 'apodyopsis' - the act of mentally undressing someone. Which I neither did nor learnt at my training today, but do think it is a rather lovely word.

You learn something new...