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My bio here at Moristotle & Co. is pretty scant. It’s a sketch really, lacking in detail. So here’s a detail; I was a college student for a long time, a really long time. Fourteen years by my reckoning. Over the course of that decade and a...and four-tenths, I changed my major twice, earned three degrees, enrolled in four schools, and attended five theatre festivals. That last bit is the subject of this month’s “Fourth Saturday.”
ACTF, American College Theatre Festival, conducted in cooperation with the Kennedy Center, is an annual event that happens in February in eight regions across the country. From 1994 to 2001 I participated in five Region VIII KC/ACTF festivals. What happened at those festivals will someday make a good novel...The one in Las Vegas may be worth a separate volume, but that’s all behind me now. I’m no longer a student. I’m a professor. And last week I attended my sixth theatre festival, this time as a professor, a chaperone in the city I called home for a quarter of a century, Los Angeles. So I got to be the one who knew something about where we were. I actually found myself to be useful. Showing students and colleagues alike how to ride the subway, where to get a really good french dip sandwich (Philippe’s on Alameda) and the intricacies of the Samuel French bookstore.
I’ve heard that at some point you stop taking and you start to give back, I suppose that’s where I am in this journey. I get to share now. I get to offer guidance, advice, the wisdom of my years and show off the scars left by my mistakes. But here’s the thing—you really do get back. Yes, I recall how fun it was to attend festivals, hang out, go to plays, workshops, rounds and rounds of acting competition, partying late into the night/early into the dawn—that’s no longer my role. I’m the observer, respondent, mentor. And the group of students I’m involved with are the best anywhere.
Putting aside the scowls that are sometimes caught at the Academy Awards, the people of theatre are the most generous losers you’ll ever find. The awards ceremony that capped the four-day event I attended was punctuated by roars, squeals, and shouts of joy. The winners were mostly silent, too dumbfounded to believe they were the one’s singled out as “the best.” It was their comrades in greasepaint who expressed the loudest pleasure. Odd that a culture so firmly tied to the liberal side of the political spectrum is one that embraces so strongly capitalism’s tenet that a piece of pie for someone else doesn’t make your slice smaller, it just means the pie is larger. A useful lesson for all of us. And I learned from watching these “students” the lesson of being grateful just to be there. That cliché, “it’s an honor just to be nominated...”...with the right frame of mind it’s true.
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Copyright © 2013 by James Knudsen
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"I’m the observer, respondent, mentor. And the group of students I’m involved with are the best anywhere." Spoken as the son of a remarkable father.
ReplyDeleteIn a galaxy far away, at a time long ago... (OK, Tulare Union High School, circa 1962) Morris Jim Rix and I had the honor of being taught by James' father Mo Knudsen. he was a source of continuing inspiration/ stimulation/ provocation from which we still benefit. Additionally, I had the clan Knudsen as next door neighbors, which was a wonder to behold, and a gift to the imagination.
As the son of teachers, I think I can recognize what makes a great teacher, and the sentences I quote are it's essence.
James, you are an able carrier of family qualities, and I envy your students the experience. I'm glad to have been part of your childhood.
Hear, hear! Hearty confirmation from this quarter, no qualification. Mentor Morris, Morris Major, to whom I am Apprentice Morris, Morris Minor, I hope you are reading these comments. Good day to you, Sir. I wish I were to be in the audience with you at Fresno City College next week for a performance of Why Marry? under your son's direction! Enjoy!
DeleteMo Knudsen was my teacher, as well, the best and most popular teacher of my youth.
DeleteA delightful man. Wish I'd met you in those days, James.
Chuck, James was born after we graduated. I did see him and his sister as children a few times when my wife and I (and our children) visited Morris and their mother. But when I saw James and Morissa at a mini high school reunion in 2011, it was first time I'd seen him in perhaps 30 years.
DeleteI’m not that much of a internet reader to be honest but your sites really nice, keep it up! I'll go ahead and bookmark your website to come back down the road. Cheers
ReplyDeleteHeуa і am for thе first time here. Ι fοund thiѕ board and I іn finding It reаllу useful & it helpeԁ me оut a lot. I hope tο prοvіde something again аnd help othеrs lіke you hеlped me.
ReplyDeleteLoathe as I am to see this turn into a self-congratulatory fest, the fact that Dad's legacy has become part of the conversation gives me reason to offer my perspective. All I knew growing up was that Dad was a teacher and rare was the month that a former student didn't stop by the house. As an adult I understand that not every teacher is visited by their former charges and the fact that Dad was and still is speaks volumes.
ReplyDeleteJames, a charming piece of storytelling. Tom, congratulations again on having the wisdom to stay in California. Morris, with the wondrous setting and such fond memories, you still left California for North Carolina? Putting it as gently as I can, this is not good for your street cred - but thank you for providing a venue for so many nice folks who make California seem even more attractive as a place to live.
ReplyDeleteMotomynd, thank you for these kind, gentle words, my street cred be damned!
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