24 Peers. 24 Teachers.

June 20, 2018.

I am the child of teachers, and one of the things for which I am eternally grateful to my parents is that they have always instilled in me a deep love of learning. Before I even really understood what a thesis was, I knew that my Dad’s thesis was about lifelong learning. I think I knew the sounds of that phrase before I really heard its meaning and felt its weight. Lifelong learning. We are always, moment to moment, learning from those around us, and we will never stop the learning process. There are so few things that I am certain of in life, but that is one. 

Last week I graduated from the Full Time Program at 16th Street Actors Studio. I have spent the last year at 16th Street studying a variety of techniques which have challenged, exposed and opened me. It has been an intense and constant learning process that has given me so many ups and downs but I wouldn’t change any of it. I have grown immensely as an actor, artist and person.

In my concluding days at the school I had the time to reflect on my experience in the course and what I have learned. In my time there I have been so lucky to have been led by a group of educators and artists who taught me more skills and wisdoms in my craft and in life than I can think of words to suggest to an improv group. They have opened up a world to me that I am more excited to dive headfirst into than ever before.

But to me, it’s the 23 other people that I have had the privilege of having as my peers, who have taught me the most. Witnessing each and every one of them grow as artists and human beings has been a gift. They have been my teachers in every sense of the word. I have learned the special quality of an ensemble, an army of artists who band together to become a singular creative entity. Even more, I have taken individual lessons from each of these 23 people, my fellow actors.

She taught me that there is the most endearing and nuanced beauty in expressing yourself freely and fully, and that it is possible to have lightness and gravity simultaneously.

She taught me that your youth is something to be celebrated no matter your age, but also to remember that there is so much more to every person than is revealed at first glance. Under a face of sweetness and youth can lie incredible depth, insight and fierceness.

She taught me that being unapologetically who you are is as selfless as it is personally empowering, because the rest of the world deserves the joy of knowing the full you. 

He gave me a real life understanding of something Brene Brown talks about, the power of vulnerability; and he taught me that while a year goes by faster than we can grasp, in that time one person can go through a decade’s worth of growth and transformation.

She taught me that everything you need to overcome your inner demons is inside of you if you have the courage, and that the radiance of a genuine smile can bring someone else back into the light.

She taught me that losing even only a little bit of who you are, every facial expression, every question you ponder, every opinion you share, is a loss for everyone. That in the aspects of you that you can’t even see or aren’t aware of, you open whole new worlds to the people who come across you.

She taught me that you don’t have to use a lot of words to be able to give the gift of what is in your eyes, and you don’t need to move a muscle to still entirely fill up a room. 

She taught me that gratitude for what you have and for those around you will sustain you through even the darkest of days, and that your unique energy is something to be fearlessly celebrated.

She taught me that subtlety and honesty have the power to create stories bigger, brighter and deeper than the biggest screen or stage; and that bravery, when you challenge yourself to be brave, is impossible to tear eyes from. 

She taught me the beauty of celebrating your own physical being and expression, and that finding your own best ways of working is an invaluable gift to yourself as an artist.

He taught me that endless curiosity, hunger and passion can withstand any challenge or disappointment; and that you don’t need to ask permission to own your own ability and value.

She taught me that time and energy are available to you if you really want them to be, and that the hard work and determination of one person can pull another person onto the field.

She taught me the freeing and strangely beautiful quality that can be found in anger, and that wherever you’re at at that moment can be the exact thing that will make your work fly. 

He taught me how creativity, integrity, vulnerability and humour can be illuminated and flourish if we are willing to experience others’ work and selves through less familiar lenses. The work to bridge gaps shouldn’t all be one-sided.

He taught me the generosity of inviting others underneath your external, and how quickly implicit trust can be developed between artists, or an artist and an audience as a result.

She taught me that a willingness to get messy does not have to be at the expense of gravitas, and that sharing both your heart and your brain is the most generous way to affect a room.

She taught me the importance of seeing each person in front of you individually rather than glossing them over a group, otherwise you miss the gifts; and that reaching out to another, both onstage and off, is the pathway to trust and creation.

She taught me that it is possible to have strength and pain and love and joy and darkness and light all in you at the same time, and that if you allow those complexities the space to coexist within you, you shine.

He has been the embodiment of the statement ‘You are enough’, and taught me that it is all in you if you just allow yourself to sit, be truthful, and give yourself over to the work.

He taught me to enjoy the process of discovering what is in you and how to bring that to the floor, rather than try to speed to the result, and to value every tiny success as just as important and true as the larger ones. 

She taught me that even when you’re struggling, you can do more than you think you can, and that being able to both step up and lead and work in an ensemble means that you can create in as many contexts and with as many people as possible. 

He taught me the value of continuing to look inside yourself to see what is going on, because whatever is there will make your work stronger; and that being certain that this is what you want to do will fuel you through everything.

She taught me how to have both vulnerability and strength, fight for what you want, and how scenes that push you and make you nervous can turn into the most beautiful work that you do.

She taught me that strength can be quiet, power can be subtle, and that we as humans can be quick to judge without knowing the full story. Show people respect without requiring them to prove to you that they deserve it.

These are only some of the pieces of gold that I have taken from my past year of training. I have so much more still to learn. I trust my Dad’s thesis title – the learning is definitely lifelong. But as I take these lessons with me I will be reminded of each member of the incredible ensemble of students of which I was lucky to be a part.