Last week at my son’s elementary school a 7-year-old boy, wearing a black velvet blazer over a green plaid collared shirt, stood on a makeshift stage and, without any noticeable signs of nerves, began to recite one of Robert Frost’s famous poems, “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.” The recitation was from memory and an impressive feat, especially for a first-grader at the school-wide talent show. Like many other parents in the audience, I was held rapt by his focus. The audience contained many fidgeting-but-on-their-best-behavior little bodies, but he held his voice and body steady at the microphone. When he concluded the poem, there was applause and many adults made eye contact with each other, noting that memorizing anything, especially a poem, took a lot of work and preparation. Some arched eyebrows also expressed wonder: how many first-graders are into Frost and early 20th-century American poetry?
The school talent show also featured solo and group acts of musical performances, magic, dancing, acting and signing. I must admit that when I saw the event on the calendar I was transported back to my elementary days when I had the audacity to perform, all by myself on the big high school stage, a dance number to En Vogue’s “Free Your Mind.” I was a new kid at school, and I must have assumed that one of the easiest routes to making friends was to choreograph a dance number and attempt to do the splits, something I hadn’t practiced or even planned to do. I didn’t nail the splits, and the solo dance performance didn’t assist in friendship-making or elevating social status.
My son has no interest in performing and was happy to clap for his friends. He was so thrilled to be surrounded by a group of kids who just loved to express themselves, those who felt called to the stage, keying the piano or belting out pop songs that I now must look up because I’m old and don’t know a lick about popular music.
I was struck by the kids’ courage who performed that night, applauding their bravery and dedication. Remembering lines of poetry or dance steps is no easy feat. The arts and humanities inspire a particular form of bravery. Beyond learning those card tricks or songs, is a deeper kind of learning, one that has continued to resound in each generation. The arts may continue to take its unfair hits, but the talent show was a vital reminder that kids who sing, play music, write songs, or dance are learning far more than what equations or coding offers. They are learning about themselves in new and exciting ways, yet also reconnecting with an elemental part of all of us who harbor a love of movement, a riveting story, or a good laugh. And to those, like my son, who sat and watched, I knew that he too was taking part in another important lesson about what it means to receive stories or songs and look at your friends in wonder.
Maggie Doherty is a writer and book reviewer who lives in Kalispell with her family.