Recently, I attended a marvelous performance of Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night with my twin three-year-olds, a one-year-old, and my wife.
Now, my children are young, and weekly church-going has taught me to have low expectations regarding how long we’ll make it at a public ceremony or performance. The liturgical ritual of church is an acquired taste, so it can be difficult for our children to get used to its repetitive nature. This repetition has a purpose, of course, since it is meant to reveal and symbolize an unchanging reality. But a Shakespearean performance is full of people who change significantly, sometimes to tragic—or comic—effect. These myriad characters strut, limp, and bound across the stage in front of your eyes—and you have no idea what they’ll do next! Shakespeare’s plays—indeed, all plays—present an uncertain world and unpredictable beings. Suffice to say, my children were captivated and stayed through the entire performance.
With captivation comes wonder, and with wonder, questions. Many of the questions my children asked during and after the performance were simple: What is he saying? Why are they fighting? Why does Viola put that hat on? Is she hurt? Is he being silly? For an adult, these simple questions are easy to answer in a few words. But they also contain the heart of the play. Considered deeply, these types of questions reveal the full meaning of any play: accurate textual analysis, consideration for the action and motivations behind it, as well as the tone and mood of characters.
A child’s first encounter with the mystery of the theater is as revealing of deep questions as his or her future encounters. Now, three-year-olds ask questions according to ability—but don’t be fooled by their seeming simplicity. The deep meaning of the play-world is linked to its surface and our desire to know the deep meaning is linked to our captivated wonder at the dressed-up splendor of the unfolding performance. Thus, the full mystery of a play impresses itself upon children at an early age. Any further learning is a deepening of these initial stirrings, questions, and encounters.
Watching a play with children is significantly different from reading to them because the relationship between art and audience is different. Since there can be no pause when encountering a performance, it’s a less cerebral experience than reading a story and so more raw and emotional. This presents a clear window for children into the world of adults: By observing adults’ emotional reactions to the play, young children feel something of the mystery of the adult world. The human heart and its attendant mysteries are revealed through adults’ emotional responses to the drama.
By laughing, crying, or even simply wondering at adult responses to the play, children become part of an adult community. They draw close not only to their parents but to the other adults in the audience, as well. They take great pride in this and feel that they’re on to something—namely, the right response to the world being presented in the play. For children, watching a play is therefore an intensive education in becoming members of an adult community, and the test of entrance is taking on the adult responses to the world of the play they encounter.
It may be that while early childhood reading and literacy are important, watching performances of plays is equally as important. Only the very rare human being buries himself monk-like among books in the library. Most of us learn our basic postures toward the world through social interaction and community. For this, play-watching is indispensable.
Ian Lindquist is a Public Interest fellow. He lives in Hyattsville, Maryland with his wife and three children.
