The Curse of the Drama Student

Recently, I saw one of my favourite comedians live. He asked if there were any students in the audience to which there was a reply of yes. He then asked if there were any drama students. Some people gave a little cheer to which he replied with a derogatory remark. This he followed by saying he’d apologise but what would a drama student to him? ‘Oh look at me, I’m an angry tree’. While this joke is funny and makes me laugh, it does bother me slightly. At first, I thought it was because, actually, it wasn’t true to life. I have never ‘been’ an ‘angry tree’. But the more I’ve started to think about it, the reason it bothers me is because it is so accurate. I might have never tried out an ‘angry tree’ but I have done some pretty ridiculous things. What course other than drama requires to you to rehearse outside for two hours in freezing February temperatures, make up (and, regrettably, perform) a dance to Aqua’s Barbie Girl, buy a plastic sword from your local toy shop and generally make a fool of yourself on a weekly, if not daily, basis? I was watching an episode of Channel 4’s new series, Fresh Meat, a couple of weeks ago in which there was a scene where some students in their drama class were pretending to be animals. I thought, with relief, thank God I’ve never had to do that. Sure enough, the following week, in a workshop on Boal, I was crawling on the floor as a tiger and waddling across the room as a penguin. And, I must admit, I enjoyed it. But, despite all the fun, it is a hard slog most of the time and, quite often, the cause of your loss of sanity. Not only do you have to write essays on things you’ve never considered until your theory seminars such as analysing the difference between performing and acting or what makes a performance space (I’m not going to lie, I don’t really care), but you also have to give over half of your life to creating performance presentations with other members of your class, balancing out everybody’s fears of doing badly and filling up the specified timing with their ‘vision’. And, because we’re drama students, nothing is simple. A friend of mine recently was venting to me about her performance presentation that she was convinced she would not do well in when I was meant to in a Film Studies class. My tutor, late, walked past. I explained we were having drama stresses and she, a former drama student, smiled in empathy. Unfortunately, creativity coupled with assessment breeds stress and, as artistic people, society dictates we must be highly strung. But, when you’ve spent nine hours in rehearsals with a two hour theory seminar bang smack in the middle, don’t tell me you wouldn’t be highly strung too. And I suppose, when all other ‘non-drama’ people assume all you do is pretend and play, it does grate. They should be grateful they don’t have to give over most of their lives to making a fool out of themselves, seeing performances you either don’t like, don’t understand or irritate you beyond belief and analysing where performance ends and reality begins. Having said that, I could not do any other degree. I’ve seen some amazing performances, discussed aspects of theatre I’d never even considered,( enjoyed doing so,) learnt more about myself as an actor (and a performer), met a few of my closest friends, been forced to embrace the ridiculous (and let go of my inhibitions) and found out that sanity isn’t really important. Still, I realised that my degree had gotten to me more than I’d thought when, in class the other day, each group was showing their unfinished/‘work-in-progress’ performance presentation. One group was on stage sorting out their set and I leant over to my friend next to me and said, ‘oh I think this is part of the performance’. It was not.