We are not a screaming family. Husband is quiet. I holler, but mostly happily / spastically [1]. The Kids as a group are quiet-ish, subtle in their emotions. Except for Kid 3, who is unsubtle as a Defining Character Trait, and we love that about her.
So I’ve been all braggy about this on FaceBook, but if you hadn’t heard, Kid 1 recently landed the role of Eponine in next year’s high school musical version of Les Miserables. This is big, guys. It’s her favorite role, singing some of the greatest songs. She’s a heartbroken, unrequited romantic character who is — okay, I’ll remind you — one part I’d really, really like to play if I could go back in time and be, um, not so near to 40.
So Eponine has solos. Good ones. And Angst. And a killer duet with Marius that I loved to sing when I was in high school, because I had this best friend who was a boy and also a singer and also a talented piano player AND THIS IS NOT ABOUT ME. Anyway, Eponine also has a crucial scream.
Yes. She screams.
At an important plot juncture.
The scream was part of the audition, and Kid 1 said it was the worst part. She said she was the worst screamer of them all. This may be true. I’ve heard some of those other girls scream. See, here’s the thing. Kid 1 can cry. At the drop of a hat. She can pout. She can pine. But screaming is not in her.
So we have to put it in her.
Yesterday, all the Kids got job lists. This will happen every day. Because I am turning into a person who makes lists every day for other people. Each Kid’s list said “Practice” — which is normal for Kid 2 (violin) and Kids 3 and 4 (piano). But Kid 1 doesn’t play an instrument. (Her voice is her instrument, and she has to practice her songs, right? Not exactly.) She asked me, very respectfully and not at all like someone who is weeks away from being seventeen and busy enough, thank you, “What would you like me to practice?”
“Screaming.”
“No.”
“Yep.”
“No. I can’t.”
“Sure you can.”
“I actually can’t.”
“I can help you.”
Smirk and one eyebrow raised. I don’t know where she learned to do that.
So I screamed. She smiled, told me it was well done, and that clearly I didn’t need any more practice screaming (That’s polite Kid talk for, “Mother, please shut it.”)
I asked her to please try.
No.
Please, please?
She laughed. “I really can’t scream,” she said.
I tried to remember a time when she’d screamed. I couldn’t. Once, when she was in elementary school, she responded to something with a very dramatic, “NEVER!” but it was heavy on the drama and light in volume, compared to — oh, let’s just say — me.
I told her to give me a big “HA!” as in, “I’ve caught you, ha!” or “I’m totally humoring you, Mom! Ha!” I modeled one. A ha for the ages.
I waited.
A while.
And another while.
Then she did it. “HA.”
“Good,” I told her. “Now do it longer. HAAA.”
“HA.”
I petted her arm, remembering that she was doing a very hard thing.
“HAA.”
“Yay. You did great. One more try.”
“HAAA. Can I please be done?”
“Good job. We can do this. You can do this.”
We may need every day of the next five months to get it right, but I am going to help my baby girl learn to scream. On stage. Wearing a microphone. To further the plot. Because, as Hamlet likes to say, “The Play is the THING.”
(Meanwhile, Vocal Coaches out there? Any ideas on how to get a non-screamer comfortable screaming?)
—
[1] Now. I used to yell. I’ve gotten over it. Mostly.
(10) Comments for this blog
I can’t even wrap my head around this. My kids are LOUD, boisterous, noisy creatures. I love ’em dearly the way they are, but sometimes I see kiddos like yours and sigh a little wistfully . . .
Cracking up over the idea of scream practice, and grinning hugely that she got the part she wanted. How fabulous!
I can’t even wrap my head around this. My kids are LOUD, boisterous, noisy creatures. I love ’em dearly the way they are, but sometimes I see kiddos like yours and sigh a little wistfully . . .
Cracking up over the idea of scream practice, and grinning hugely that she got the part she wanted. How fabulous!
This needs to be more drama and less volume anyway, so she’s already got the chops for it. She’ll have a mic, and a real, honest-to-goodness ‘scream’ would blow the system and deafen the audience. You’re on the right track: have her get her abs involved, and do some Lamaze stuff like, ‘he-he-he-he-heeeeee’ on a neutral pitch. Then take it up a step. Then gradually stretch the vowel from ee to ah, but hitting all the vowel sounds you’d get if you said the word “yawn” really, really slowly. A little bite in the jaw will give it an edge without damaging her voice. Tongue loose and against the backs of her bottom teeth. No shrieking.
This needs to be more drama and less volume anyway, so she’s already got the chops for it. She’ll have a mic, and a real, honest-to-goodness ‘scream’ would blow the system and deafen the audience. You’re on the right track: have her get her abs involved, and do some Lamaze stuff like, ‘he-he-he-he-heeeeee’ on a neutral pitch. Then take it up a step. Then gradually stretch the vowel from ee to ah, but hitting all the vowel sounds you’d get if you said the word “yawn” really, really slowly. A little bite in the jaw will give it an edge without damaging her voice. Tongue loose and against the backs of her bottom teeth. No shrieking.
Oh, and congratulations to Kid 1! They’ll be doing the show just in time to compete with the movie. Russell Crowe, singing. This, I gotta see.
Oh, and congratulations to Kid 1! They’ll be doing the show just in time to compete with the movie. Russell Crowe, singing. This, I gotta see.
My first role with TVT involved me screaming onstage too. And it wasn’t easy either. Because in real life, I typically don’t scream in the situation that I was screaming over (seeing a ghost). The scream I used was how I scream on roller coasters and it worked like a charm! I’m not sure if Kid 1 has ever been on a roller coaster or anything like it, but maybe you could help her envision herself being on one and have her scream? Maybe? Or perhaps I am the only one who screams bloody murder on roller coasters. 🙂
My first role with TVT involved me screaming onstage too. And it wasn’t easy either. Because in real life, I typically don’t scream in the situation that I was screaming over (seeing a ghost). The scream I used was how I scream on roller coasters and it worked like a charm! I’m not sure if Kid 1 has ever been on a roller coaster or anything like it, but maybe you could help her envision herself being on one and have her scream? Maybe? Or perhaps I am the only one who screams bloody murder on roller coasters. 🙂
Pretty sure I recall laughing at how *totally muted* Kid 1’s crying scream was when she was the smallest kid. When we watched Jurrasic Park on our little crappy mono TV, the T-Rex roar (as compared to the movie version that shook our undies) was like a Kid 1 scream. We still comment on that in the OmaHeck house.
So it there a physiological barrier? Or is it all mental?
Pretty sure I recall laughing at how *totally muted* Kid 1’s crying scream was when she was the smallest kid. When we watched Jurrasic Park on our little crappy mono TV, the T-Rex roar (as compared to the movie version that shook our undies) was like a Kid 1 scream. We still comment on that in the OmaHeck house.
So it there a physiological barrier? Or is it all mental?