Today was our first day teaching classes.

After a quick continental breakfast, we piled into the church vans that shuttled us over to the college. Before long, I was standing in front of my first group of drama teachers, ready to introduce them to improvised Shakespeare.

I knew many of them were nervous.

Shakespeare can be intimidating enough on its own. Add improvisation, and it becomes downright terrifying.

But you know me…

I won’t let anyone fail in my class.

And they absolutely ROCKED it.

It wasn’t long before everyone was laughing, taking risks, and creating wonderfully dramatic Shakespearean scenes together.

My second class was exactly the same.

Watching people discover they can do something they never imagined possible is one of the greatest joys of teaching. When my students get excited, I get excited. My energy ramps up, and it’s usually all I can do to stay in my chair.

I actually set a goal for myself this week.

Normally, when students are performing, I bounce around the room because my brain gets so excited watching them succeed. This time, I wanted to simply sit back and enjoy watching the discoveries happen.

I’m proud to say…

I mostly succeeded.

Between classes, we attended what the Academy calls a Musing—a presentation where a professional artist shares their journey, the obstacles they’ve overcome, and the lessons they’ve learned along the way.

Our guest was jazz and blues musician and educator Eli Yamin.

As he walked us through stories from his career, one photograph appeared on the screen of him conducting a big band behind Audra McDonald.

Moments like that remind me how incredibly large the arts community is…

…and yet how small it can feel.

The arts have a wonderful way of connecting people.

Then it was time for lunch.

There’s always food.

Seriously…

There’s always food.

As I happily worked my way through a salad (my body was beginning to crave vegetables), one of the event facilitators, Paula, looked at me and said,

“You know there’s a cake bar, right? It’s full of the most wonderful cakes you’ve ever had. I’ll watch your plate if you want to go get a couple pieces.”

Folks…

I’m going to weigh 500 pounds by the time I get back to Seattle.

Somehow…

I resisted.

That afternoon, I taught my secondary workshop on creating character through movement, physical relationships, and the distance between actors. We explored how the space between two people changes not only how they relate to one another, but who they become.

From there, we worked on object work before putting everything together with the classic improv game Freeze Tag.

It was wonderful watching people begin to apply intentional movement and object work to what many think is “just a game.”

By 5:00, we headed back to the hotel…

…where we enjoyed the luxurious gift of approximately twenty free minutes.

And then?

We left again.

Why?

Because apparently the answer to every question this week was…

More food.

The Academy’s director—the person who invited us to teach—took all of the faculty out to dinner. We spent the evening swapping stories about theater, education, and life.

It was one of those dinners where complete strangers somehow end up feeling like old friends.

And yes…

There was more cake.

As I finally made it back to my hotel room that night, I realized something.

This wasn’t just another teaching engagement.

It was quickly becoming one of the most meaningful experiences of my career.