The Whole Child

Post submitted by Phyllis K. Lerner, Washington D.C. –area staff development consultant and graduate school faculty member.

The King and I was my first Broadway show. I spent the entire performance standing with my chin tucked into the curved V of the seats in front of me. I was enamored with everything, especially the children who were, at the time, just about my age.

I saw the show again last Friday night at the Bronx Preparatory Charter School and it was the children again who captivated me. But these children, gifted performers in grades 5 through 12, did not look like the young Asian faces stored in memory banks. They reflected their African American and Latino/a communities and acted with all the culturally correct bows, accents, harmonies, and smooth Siamese moves that this classic Broadway show requires.

Only days before, I had left Thailand (formerly Siam) after three months as an American Jewish World Service volunteer in teacher education. Since World War II, the citizens of Burma have been governed by military dictatorships with little respect for ethnic groups and civil rights. The Karen people, mostly Christian (blended with an essence of animism and Buddhism), fought with the British against the Japanese and were promised a government that acknowledged diversity. That never happened. Today, the Karen, like many ethnic Burmese, have been violently forced from their homeland. Hundreds of thousands are living in refugee camps on the borders of Thailand and have been for generations. Although schools exist, they yank at the hope and hopelessness of any global educator, including me. It is those youngsters whose faces fill my short-term memory.

From across 12 time zones, I was reminded how truly global the World Wide Web is when I read Kate Quarfordt’s The Heart of Teaching and Learning: Cultures Collide as “The King and I” Comes to the Bronx. She grabbed me when she answered a student’s question about one of the show’s songs with “This is what a Jewish musical theater songwriting team from the 1950s thought a classical Siamese retelling of a novel about African American slaves written by a white woman in the 1860s would sound like.” As a Jewish female educator born just before the show hit Broadway who had worked mostly in urban districts and was currently melting in the 100-degree heat of Mae Sot, Thailand, I understood what she meant! It was time to put together my childhood passion for musical theater, decades of educational equity work, and intensely meaningful service in Southeast Asia. I decided to board a bus to the Bronx following my flight home from Bangkok to the D.C. metro area.

I e-mailed the school’s generic address, tossing out a theatrical thread from Thailand, about their upcoming spring show. And it was passed on rather than passed over, followed by a fabulous invitation to speak with the entire cast and crew before show time. Wow!

What’s current about The King and I today? Human and sex trafficking (of both adults and children), rote learning, colonialism, polygamy, sexism, slavery, elitism, royalty, ballroom dancing, managing fears (whistling), and so much more. “The Cast and I” made insightful connections between then and now—their show and my service—and we got to know each other.

Broadway the Bronx Prep Charter School–way was evident Friday night as the third and last show of the run, and the last-ever Bronx Prep show for many talented seniors, was sold out. The cast of stars and characters (including orange-robed monks and shadow puppeteers) greeted me with incredible hugs, even with microphones and makeup on their faces. Director Kate, a phenomenally gifted educator, has worked with these youngsters, many of whom have been growing up on stage and in front of an audience, for seven years. They know how to be who they are—confident and competent kids of color, living in a neighborhood a bit tougher than they are. They know how to stretch their skills and immerse themselves in another culture, time, and place, taking project based-learning to a whole new level of performance. They also know how to act (sing and dance) like Siamese children and wives, laborers and staff, a complex and reflective king, and a posh yet warm British teacher.

When the students presented me with their show T-shirt, I quoted their king. “When one does not know what to say, it is the time to be silent.” As the king lies dying, I mirrored the teacher Anna’s final expression of respect and love for him. I bowed fully, in honor of a cast and community who helped me to merge their show with my education experience.

Read more about Bronx Prep in Onstage and Off: Art Makes Leaders and Celebration in the Bronx.

Photographs taken by or are used with permission from Phyllis K. Lerner.