What it takes is to actually write: not to think about it, not to imagine it, not to talk about it, but to actually want to sit down and write. I’m lucky I learned that habit a really long time ago. I credit my mother with that. She was an English teacher, but she was a writer.
When I was a freshman at Yale, one teacher brought me up after class and said, ‘You’re trying to undermine my class.’ And I thought to myself, ‘Oh my God, I’m going to be kicked out of school on the first week.’ Not only do I not have a sense of self, I don’t even know what she’s talking about. I don’t even know how to undermine anything.
I was born 50 years after slavery, in 1913. I was allowed to read. My mother, who was a teacher, taught me when I was a very young child. The first school I attended was a small building that went from first to sixth grade. There was one teacher for all of the students. There could be anywhere from 50 to 60 students of all different ages.
Growing up in this post-apartheid era, the first generation of teens in South Africa living in this new democracy, I often found myself feeling different. I was often the only person of color in an otherwise all-white school. And within the Indian community, because of my training with an English acting teacher, my accent was very different.
It was Sultan Qureshi, the character of ‘Gangs of Wasseypur,’ which brought success as a baddie, but it were the TC and teacher’s roles in ‘Masaan’ and ‘Nil Battey Sannata’ that broke the villain’s mould and helped me successfully explore the other shades – be it comedy, intense, or serious – surprising the audience all the time.
I was told to challenge every spiritual teacher, every world leader to utter the one sentence that no religion, no political party, and no nation on the face of the earth will dare utter: ‘Ours is not a better way, ours is merely another way.
I really feel like if they’d have let me just pace in the back of the classroom while the teacher was talking, I’d have done much better. I have to move. But you know, that’s disruptive for the class, and as a result, there was a ripple effect of having to sit still that found its way into every aspect of my life.
I remember one time in my junior year, in my art class, our teacher had us doing, like, finger paints, and I went and put a stripe on a girl’s shirt, and it turned into a big paint fight. Paint all over the walls, all over everybody. It was pretty fun.
I had a teacher in college who drastically changed the course of my life by telling me that he believed in me as an actor. I never received that support before, and it inspired to me to such a degree that I never looked back. He taught me that it’s okay to be crappy; it’s okay to fight; it’s okay to go to any length.
I don’t have freedom in the United States to go into a public school and preach the Gospel, nor is a student free in a public school to pray, or a teacher free to read the Bible publicly to the students. At the same time, we have a great degree of freedom for which I am grateful.
The drama teacher that I had in high school, back in Texas, was the only teacher who didn’t kick me out of his class. He turned me on to ‘The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan.’ I had picked up Dylan with ‘Bringing It All Back Home,’ and he turned me on to the first couple of albums, which I hadn’t heard.
If you’re not doing something right, you can feel it on stage, and if it isn’t going well, the audience will tell you. A teacher can teach you sense memory and this and that, but until you get in front of an audience, you don’t really feel it.
For every R. Kelly or Bill Cosby or Harvey Weinstein, there’s, you know, the owner of the grocery store, the coach, the teacher, the neighbor, who are doing the same things. But we don’t pay attention until it’s a big name. And we don’t pay attention ‘til it’s a big celebrity.
I started piano like my sisters. After one year or two, I didn’t like it anymore. Then, because I like trumpet, I played the cornet. When you are 7, you can’t play trumpet – you play cornet. And something didn’t go well. The teacher was too hard. Too rough. Suddenly, there was this instrument, the flute, that I could immediately play.
I read very one-note. Teacher’s pet, Goody Two-shoes. I’d hate to be annoying. Who wants to see movies with someone annoying in them? But it’s hard for me to paint myself as anything but whatever it is I come across as – which is pretty together.
In the depth of the near depression, that he faced when he came in, Barack Obama and Democratic leaders in Congress provided ‘recovery funds’ that literally kept our classrooms open. Two years ago, these funds saved nearly 20,000 teacher and education jobs – just here in North Carolina.
Born Virginia Marshall but nicknamed Gig, my mother was a home economics teacher who had come all the way across the whole state of Virginia, from her home on the Eastern Shore to our little Appalachian coal town to marry my daddy, Ernest Smith, whose family had lived in these mountains for generations.
Every single major push in education has made it worse and right now it’s really bad because everything we’ve done is de-humanizing education. It’s destroying the possibility of the teacher and the student having a warm, friendly, intellectual relationship.
Merit pay has failed repeatedly, and it’s no surprise. When you base teacher pay on standardized test scores, you won’t improve education; you just promote the high-stakes testing craze that’s led parents, students and educators to shout ‘Enough!’ all across the country.
I was attending the University of Alberta. I was going to be a high school teacher, like my parents. I failed – no, I didn’t fail a class, I just barely passed. I really didn’t try. It was Canadian history, through the plays of the time. My God, those were boring plays.
The big trick is just to get to a point where we’re just considered DPs, and we’re not ‘female DPs.’ When you think of the word ‘doctor’ or ‘teacher,’ you don’t think gender. And it would be nice to get to a place where ‘DP’ meant either and ‘director’ meant either and ‘gaffer’ meant either.
It wasn’t until sixth grade, at P.S. 168, when my teacher took us on a field trip to her house that I realized we were poor. I have no idea what my teacher’s intentions were – whether she was trying to inspire us or if she actually thought visiting her Manhattan brownstone with her view of Central Park qualified as a school trip.
I wear scarves all the time. Even in the summer, I wear scarves – even a thin one. My old vocal teacher told me that, and I stick to it. The only time I get sick is when I forget to wear my scarf. I don’t know, it might be mental, but it works for me.
I didn’t want to be the archetypal sponging brother-in-law, so I didn’t go into acting when I got to the States. I thought, ‘No, I’ll go to school and then I’ll be an English teacher; that’ll be fun.’ But I was horrible as a teacher. As hard as I tried, I just couldn’t inspire those kids to take an interest in Milton and Shakespeare and Donne.
My father was a professor of folklore, and my mother was a teacher until she was married. I had a good relationship with them, and the only argument we had was when I went to university and wanted to go into the theater instead of studying to be a lawyer.
