My Schoolteacher?

At a given time, the door is cracked open and we slip into the classroom with the music coming out of our bag. As the character enters the room, back to the pupils, we are instantly assailed by perceptions: the classroom bursts with energy, the intensity of their gazes riveted on us that read What is happening? Who is that? The classrooms fall into a thick silence, concerned looks spread, then the murmurs and comments are heard all around, making assumptions about who we are: a robot, a zombie, a thieve trying to escape, a substitute teacher, last week’s trainee? …

A classroom is a place overloaded with colours, information, furniture, objects. You must step over school bags, and avoid the corners of tables. You can feel the teacher’s personality very intensely.

There is the little girl whose eyes will never cease to widen throughout. There is the boy who will dance in unison with singular grace. There are the rascals who try to touch us to check if we are « real ». Those who shout at us to explain what is happening. There are those looks who show shyness and a need to keep their distance. There are the cheeks that blush when we come to sit on their table. There are those who want to be the star. Those who wish they were not enjoying themselves it as much as they are, but get caught up in the game…

We feel the children slipping progressively into their role of audience, curious, intrigued, amazed, excited, happy, after an exchange of looks searching the teacher’s face to see if they are allowed to drop the exercise they were doing, and are allowed to laugh, allowed to receive, allowed to copy the gestures while sitting at their table. Then they devour the story that is danced before them.

And after the performance, the teachers tell us how astonished they are to see themselves represented on stage, how they recognise themselves. That it is not often that they are talked about. And the joy too as the students thank them for their gift.