As a teaching artist with programs based in vocal empowerment through theater arts, I never feel I have enough time with students. I always want sessions to be longer and greater in number to allow adequate time for sequential learning and reflection. Most of my programs are residencies varying in length from three to twelve weeks, with some programs running year-round. Some schools want a single workshop for a grade. I know I can’t always get what I want, due to school schedules and funding sources, yet I always wondered if a single workshop had any lasting impact on young students. One day, I found out.

I was in a 1st grade class for a one session workshop of my Storytime Theater program. In each session, we take a book and turn it into a play in the classroom. We warm up, do vocal and acting exercises, learn lines and blocking, explore the book’s themes and characters’ emotions, create props, rehearse, and perform. All in one hour or less!

On this particular day, I had been introduced as an author by the teachers because that is what they were told by the administration or parent organization that brought me in. I found this miscommunication interesting because I had been in this school the year before with the same program for kindergarten and 1st grade and was asked back because of the program’s success.

I introduced myself to the class of six- and seven-year-olds, seeing clear disappointment that I was not the author promised, there to share books I had written. I continued by saying we are going to learn what actors do and turn a book into a play. All of a sudden a little girl’s hand goes up. “Do you have a question?” I ask. “No. I want to tell you something,” she says quite abruptly. Whereas I didn’t want to veer off point, or lose some of my cherished and limited time, I instinctively felt this student was not going to tell me about her family’s latest trip to Disneyworld, or that she has acted in a play before.

With a very strong ‘been there, done that’ attitude, she boasted, “Last year, when I was in kindergarten, someone came to my class and we acted out ‘We’re Going on a Bear Hunt.’” Others in the class started talking over her, adding, “I remember that,” ” I played the mud,” “I was in the family,” “I was the snowstorm,” “That was so much fun!”

After my initial surprise, I listened quite amused as none of them had made the connection that it was my lesson. One child finally asked if I was there, but another scoffed that my hair was different so it couldn’t have been me. Their initial indecision of whether I was there or not didn’t matter to me. It wasn’t about who was there; it was about what they did.

I was in awe of the fact that they couldn’t stop talking about last year’s lesson in amazing detail and the joy in their voices and faces as they did. To get back to the day’s lesson I said, “Bear Hunt! That was so kindergarten! Now you’re in 1st grade and we are going to act out ‘Caps for Sale’!” The class cheered and we had a wonderful lesson.

Over the next few days, each 1st grade class at that school brought the same recognition and remembrance of my one-hour lesson the year before. Reflecting on the fact that a 6- or 7-year-old could remember such specific details from one hour of their busy kindergarten life a year before still brings a smile to my face. It reinforces why I do what I do and the power of an hour of arts education.