Definite Article

Mr. Mortimer—high school English teacher; young fortyish, somewhat inexperienced

in the profession

Ms. Henderson—colleague of Mortimer’s, a caring English teacher, but

somewhat toughened by ups and downs on the job after seven years

Mr. Finn—school principal; twenty-five years in profession, most of

which as an administrator; conservative

High school students

Janice—intelligent, well-spoken, but not academically oriented

Barbara—inherently bright, but hidden by years of neglect during which bad

habits have developed

Vicki—some very rough edges; would rather work than be at school

Marlene—demure, simply put—a sweet girl—very impressionable, loyal,

strikingly beautiful

Cynthia—because of her unobtrusive manner, her quiet brains have never

been picked; will probably flower in college—if she goes

Wimp—introverted, owing largely to his physical underdevelopment

Ernie—typical flamboyant sweathog

Dennis—witty, uncouth, loquacious and obnoxious

Walt—A sleeper—literally

Cliff—mature, goal-oriented but perceives school as an impediment to his goals

Non-speaking student roles mime reactions to class interactions and serve as stagehands in playlet

Act 1

Scene 1

Empty classroom scene, student desk-seats arranged diagonally from downstage center to upstage right; teacher's desk centerstage left: Mortimer at desk, grading papers, red pencil working furiously; Ms. Henderson, dark hair swept up, wearing glasses, slacks, walks on with two containers of coffee; puts one down on his desk.

HEND      Thought you'd like a cup of coffee during your ostensibly free period. [sits down at a student desk in front of his]

MORT     How nice...surely would after looking at these papers.[drops pencil, closes folder, pushes it way] Thank the lord it's a small class.[drinks from paper cup]

HENDOh,... your third period class, I assume.

MORT             [nods] There's no reaching them, it seems.

HEND              Typical of under-achievers—they feel they know English already. After all, they don't have a problem communicating with their peers—we do.

MORT             Might as well be teaching refugees. [reaches over and hands her the folder of papers]

HEND              [skimming through them] I know. What else is new?.. I had most of these kids in their sophomore year. They were burnt out then; they did an efficient burn-out on me as well.[returns to papers.]

MORT             [sighs] They haven't progressed much, have they?

HEND              Not at all.

MORT             Doesn't say much for my teaching.

HEND              Nor mine.[takes off glasses for a moment, looks up] The only credit we can give ourselves is that they somehow manage to survive by attending class fairly regularly and interacting here and there with the delusion of achievement from our watered down activities.[puts glasses back on, thumbs through papers again, stops, reads one momentarily] Oh, this is precious'. Ernie Bonito refers to Hamlet as Sir Laurence.

MORT             I'm afraid I'm to blame for that. We didn't get beyond the second act. I just couldn't take it anymore, so I rented the video.

HEND               No harm in that...beats "Conan the Barbarian.” After all, the language of the celluloid "is where it's at it" as they would say. That's the extent of their literary heritage.[rises, puts papers back on his desk, strolls upstage; pauses at bulletin board.]

MORT             You know, if I could just get them to write a decent business letter I'd feel as though I had done something for them. [he picks up papers and puts them in his desk drawer]

HEND               Business letters are old hat. [Apparently reading some papers tacked to the bulletin board] All they need know is to fill out a job application at McDonald's. [looks over at him momentarily] They'll never rise to the resumé level.

MORT             God, Alicia, you're cynical! [rises goes to file cabinet, opens drawer, pulls out thin folder]

HEND              It comes with tenure...though, not entirely cynical, since I can still observe that it seems from this [pointing to papers displayed on board] some of your other classes know how to write.

MORT             Yes, quite a difference between the college-goal oriented and the disoriented who are more accurately like displaced persons. I suppose, in order to survive one has to develop some kind of immunization. Besides, I shouldn't have tagged you with cynic...I know how much you care about these kinds of kids in that you’re always knocking yourself out to motivate them.

HEND              You're very kind; but I feel as helpless as you do. [she returns and takes seat, picking up her cup]

MORT             Does that mean you have no ideas for me? [holds up folder with hopeless look] I really feel as though I'm cheating them. If there were just some way I could send them off... proud of their final year....We've read so many plays...they have butchered every one of them.[returns to the desk, tosses folder on it dejectedly, rests hand on back of chair, then rocks chair absently and rests against blackboard]

HEND              That's because plays are not meant to be read without the intent to produce them. Look, the class is small enough to manage, and they're not really bad kids—oh, some of them were tigers when I had them, but most have matured since. Why don't you put on a play?

MORT             Oh, that would really frustrate them—they'd be the laughing-stock of the entire school!

HEND              You don't have to actually put it on; but at least allow them the license to go through the motion. of rehearsing and production with a tentative intent.

MORT             But that would be deceiving them—and myself. I’ve had enough of that in teaching and elsewhere.

HEND              No, not really. You think they've actually accomplished something;...besides, you can give them minimal exposure by inviting my third period class to the little theatre to play the audience as they perform.

 MORT             That's not a bad idea. [rocks forward and rests arms on desk]

HEND              The best within the scope of possible worlds we have to work with.

MORT             I'm sure they could handle that pressure....Your third period class is about average, isn't it?...I couldn't expose mine to a brainy class.

HEND              Listen, I'd do the same thing for my class, except they're eleventh graders and somehow I've got to squeeze out circle 65's on their regents. And I guarantee they'll be a receptive audience because they'll be out of the humdrum of class. Of course, I can always link an assignment to it, but that might dampen their enthusiasm.

MORT             Seems like a reasonable solution. It certainly would be better than facing a formal assembly.

HEND              If the play is worthy, I'll conduct a follow up discussion with my class anyway.

MORT             Not a mocking follow up, I trust.

HEND              I trust it will be an enjoyable discussion—you do intend to do a comedy?

MORT             Oh, yes,...wouldn't dare attempt anything serious.

HEND              Right, keep it simple.

MORT             Not simplistic, I hope.

HEND              No fear of that—those kids have a keen, hidden sense. They'll come through for you.

MORT             How hidden?

HEND              Borrow the lab's scope.[they laugh]

MORT             But what about Finn? You know how he feels about diversions in class.

HEND              Giving some frustrated kids a chance at achievement is not my idea of diversion. True, he's paranoid about that, but he can be handled—particularly when it involves these kinds of students whom he has no use for.

MORT             Yeah, you can handle him—you have tenure.

HEND              Gosh, that’s right—I forgot....I think of you as an...

MORT             As an old-timer because of my age, eh?

HEND               No, I didn’t mean that....It’s just that....Well, we’ve been kind of close, having the same period free these two, going on three years.

MORT             Here you are a young twenty-eight and have been teaching for seven years already—simply amazing.

HEND               And there you are—an old man of forty-one! Balderdash! I envy you for having tried other fields. I’ve been in a classroom all my life. Besides, you were just a baby yourself as a correspondent in Vietnam. And don’t worry about Finn—administrators are all alike—they don’t have to face the grim reality of the front lines day after day.

MORT             Still they do have the power.

HEND              Do a good job and he’s powerless.

MORT             [nods absently] A good job—ah, the rub.

HEND              [rises, deposits container in wastebasket] You’ll do fine. Must run... the bell soon.

MORT             [pushes chair in and walks with her upstage] I think I’ll stretch my legs...walk you to your room. [exit ]

Scene 2

[Bell rings; a wimpish student, small for his age walks in and takes a seat upstage. A plain little girl, Cynthis, steals seemingly into the room and follows him up the aisle and takes a seat in front of him but in the next row; she quickly glimpses at him, then opens a notebook. Janice, petite, long dark hair, pretty, neatly dressed, walks on with Cliff, a tall muscular good-looking youth in jeans and a ‘t’ shirt. Janice, apparently annoyed, slams her books down on one of the downstage desks and tosses her body into the attached seat. Cliff takes a seat next to her.]

JAN                  Must you sit next to me?

CLIFF              I always sit next to you.

JAN                  Under the circumstances, I don't want you to anymore.

CLIFF              Circumstances? What?...just because of what I said In the hall?

JAN                  Just? Why, it's ridiculous.

CLIFF               God, Janice, be realistic....This isn't the forties or fifties, you know...when a diploma really meant something.

JAN                  It still means a great deal to me.

CLIFF               I grant you that—but you're taking commercial studies. At least you have a skill....And when you pass the civil service you'll be set. Me? Nothing!

JAN                  You have your industrial arts classes.

CLIFF               Big deal!

JAN                   There’s nothing degrading in that. You're very good with tools. You'll make a very fine machinist or cabinet-maker someday if you don't drop out now. No decent trade school would accept you if they see that you're a quitter! [some more students file in and take seats up and center stages]

CLIFF               Aw, Janice, you learn it on the job, not in school.

JAN                   Oh, yeah, you'll learn a lot working for Good Year....That won't help woodworking.

CLIFF               I figured I can do that on the side...setting something up in my garage.

JAN                   Don't be silly. You're not that good yet. You need more learning and experience. Besides, what's the hurry?...that you can't wait another four months to graduation?

CLIFF               Four months of boredom, cut slips, suspensions, wise cracks from teachers—no thanks.

JAN                   Not if you grow up and behave yourself...besides, it's not as though you were a real cut-up, like some of the hoods in school. I admit, school for our kind isn't always a picnic. Don't you think It bothers me that I'm always in classes with discipline problems or students who can't or won't learn, or teachers who can't teach or won't—and what's worse, knowing I'm just as bad?

CLIFF              There's nothing wrong with your learning ability—and you certainly ain't a cut-up.

JAN                   Maybe not, but for the little work they ask us to do in these classes, I have to spend hours every night to get decent grades. Don't you remember my freshman year when I was in the college-bound classes and I had to work four, five hours every night just to maintain a C- average?

CLIFF               That shows the commitment you have ; I don't have any. I'm wasting away in school.

JAN                  Then go to the back of the room and sit with that poor lonely Wimpy.

[Barbara, dressed punkish, but not overdone, having a stylish air about her enters downstage on the other side of Janice]

BARB               Another dull English class [drops books to the floor in disgust; slouches in desk chair, but then straightens up and sits lady-like]

JAN                  Oh, it’s not all that bad. Did you do the assignments? [she consciously ignores Cliff]

BARB               Yes, I did the assignment, little goodie shoes! Same old boring stuff [chewing gum lazily] verbs, nouns, adjectives, etc., etc....still don't know what they are.

CLIFF               Why worry? Mr. Mort says we don’t have to know them as long we know how to use them. That's quite a trick, though.

JAN                  [jerks a look at him] For you maybe...but , no there's logic in that. In advanced typing when we do contracts, I don't know half the terms but as long as I spell them right and sense the syntax, it's okay.

BARB               How's that going to help me? I know how to spell them, though I do seem to know when the grammar is wrong.

JAN                  Half the battle anyway; if I say that's an adjective or adjective noun you're wearing it doesn't mean much, does it? [Barbara shakes head; Cliff shakes head and goes upstage, bumping into a heavy-set girl, to sit next to Wimp] But If I say that's a beautiful gold chain you're wearing , you know what I mean. Even though I don't think in terms of adjectives and nouns, I've used them correctly. see?

BARB               Gee! You better go back into those brainy classes. I was in one of them right up to junior high, you know?

JAN                  No. I didn't know.

BARB               Needless to say, it didn't work out.

JAN                  Why Is that?

BARB               It wasn't the work so much as the students.

JAN                  Same here, but the work was too much for me as well.

BARB               I just couldn't adjust to them; they seemed different...maybe it was me that was different.

[Vicki, the heavy set girl, with a cheerful face, sits in the seat that was occupied by Cliff and drops her book bag on the floor next to her]

VICKI              [motioning to Cliff] What's with him?

JAN                   Oh, that...creep!...a stubborn mule! Can you imagine him wanting to drop out of school?

VICKI               I can buy that.

JAN                  Vicki! You’re awful!

VICKI              I bet he makes good money at that tire place—and a lot more full time.

JAN                  You call minimum good money!

VICKI              What with the cost of car insurance, I can barely make the premiums, much less feed It gas. I’d love to hightail it our of here and work full time.

BARB               Why, don’t you then? You’re always shaking me down.

VICKI              I pay my debts.

JAN                  I just can't believe you would throw away an education for a few extra dollars.

VICKI              Well, no need to worry your head over it, Miss Perfect. My parents are looking forward to their first born’s graduation.

JAN                  That alone is reason enough to stay in school. It’s kind of quaint actually.

BARB               Yeah, quaint, but not a reason. We just invent them to justify staying on.

VICKI              Yeah, like Mortimer. He told me one day that all I had to do Is to put in proper order what I already know. When I told him I didn't know nothin’ about English, he says, Oh, but you do, Vicki; it's just that you've forgotten most of it. So I scratch my head and asks, how do you unforget, then, Mr. Mortimer? And you know what this crazy guy says? [Barbara and Janice shake their heads in unison]

[Ernie enters, with a bouncy walk; he is known as the class clown]

ERNIE             Quit school! [ Vicki reaches down to book bag and throws a paperback

 at him; he ducks and takes a seat next to Dennis, a lanky lad, who is known as the class mouth, and they start pantomiming conversation]

BARB               Why did you throw that book at Ernie?—it only gives him what he wants—attention.

JAN                  He needs detention.

VICKI              [shrugs] So anyway...Mortimer says to me: “ My dear Vicki, you simply must

                           forget you’re forgetting.”

JAN                  I thought you said he said your trouble was forgetting? Now he wants you to forget?

ERNIE              Yeah, like I says—a real crazy guy.

VICKI               That's kind of what I said to him—that I want to unforget. and he says, “ No, my dear Vicki, I said you had merely forgotten what you knew.” [she looks over to a tall blonde girl just entering; Vicki to her]

BARB               You know, Marlene, how we struggled through all those perfect tenses in French class? [Marlene winces; her blonde brows barely visible]

JAN                   Gee, Barbara, I didn't know you were still taking French. I wish I had the brains to learn a foreign language.

VICKI               Not brains—sweat.

BARB                You could always type in a foreign language as long as its front of you.[Janice laughs]

VICKI               Anyhow, then he goes on to say, "It is best to let the sleeping lay...”

JAN                  [laughs again] Oh, how uncouth! But I'm sure he said "lie". You know how long we worked on lie and lay? [bell rings.] I never knew him to be late before.

VICKI              Whatever...so he adds, "The forgotten will awake by reminders, which you think is repetitious. No one can unforget with any certainty thereby forgetting most of what you are unforgetting. it’s better to start all over again; thereby begetting what’s forgotten." Then I says to him, "What!—and throw away almost twelve years of schooling? And you know what his answer was? [they shake their head in unison] “Don’t you dare, Vicki; you keep all those wonderful treasures of human errors." What a card.

BARB               Yeah, the Joker.[Mr. Mortimer appear.]

ERNIE             Where've you been, Mr. Mortimer? You had us all worried you wouldn't show up at all. Weren't we, Dennis?

DENNIS           [long hair to his shoulders, shirt tail out, jeans too short revealing brazen argyle.] Absolutely! I was ready to notify police—we were so worried.

MARL              I'm broken hearted. Mr. Mortimer has a new flame. I saw him walking in the hall with Ms. Henderson.[whistles and whews abound among the boys]

MORT              [leaning against lectern] Okay, guys, you've had your fun; let's settle down.[Each student busies himself in one form or other—borrowing a pencil, some paper, combing hair, thumbing through assignments; Dennis goes to window]

DEN                 Hey, Ernie, Mr. Capasino has a new car!

ERNIE             [without going to the window] That's the Driver Ed. car, you jerk!

DEN                 Yeah? A red convertible?

ERNIE             What![runs upstage to a “window”—everyone runs to window; Mortimer throws up his arms and shakes head; Vicki lumbers over to window]

 VICKI              Mr. Capasino in a convertible?—no way! Not that baggy pants-Buster Brown shoes conservative.[curiosity gets to him; Mortimer too runs to the window, while Dennis goes to the lectern]

JAN                  [turning from leaning on the window “sill”] I should have known better. [to Dennis] When are you going to grow up and end your silly pranks?

DEN                 [tapping the lectern with his ballpoint] Children, children, return to your desks. You must learn to cope with the grim reality of disappointment.

MORT             Excellent idea, Dennis—why don't you return to your desk?

JAN                  Send him on a scavenger hunt to find Emmet Kelly's shoes.

BARB               Or at least to the idiot corner at the library.

MORT             Now that's a cruel remark, Barbara. There's nothing wrong with reading magazines. I often spend time in that corner browsing through the magazine section.

DEN                 Yeah, man, Mr. Mortimer is an intense reader of Consumer's Report, aren't you, Mr. Mortimer? When are you going to break down and buy that new car you keep reading up on?

CLIFF              The old Firebird has plenty of life left in it, right Mr. Mortimer? Don't make those great old 350 V8's anymore.

MORT             As a matter of fact, I had it checked only the other day. The mechanic put another chalk ring around the plug. That makes three, so I'm still going on five—that's as good as the Mercedes.

CLIFF              Atta way to go—hang in there—don't weaken.

DEN                 Sure and if it gets any worse, you could still use the engine for a lawnmower.

ERNIE             Be a good second car for Driver Ed.

DEN                 The history department would appreciate it more—it's a relic.

MORT             Now, I think you have insulted my reliable hunk of steel enough. It’s very sensitive, you know, and it may not start for me this afternoon from all this defamation.[he goes to his file cabinet and pulls out a fat folder] I have a delightful announcement to make.

ERNIE              Ah, party time! Get your records from the locker, Marlene.

MARL              [ignoring Ernie] Oh, Mr. Mortimer!—you didn't!

MORT              [puts folder on desk] Didn't what, Marlene?

MARL              Propose to her?

MORT              What on earth are you talking about?

MARL              That's why you walked her to class.

CLIFF               Marlene, why can't you mind your own business.

ERNIE              She’s got a crush, Cliff. Don't you have any romance in you?

DEN                  Janice cured that.

JAN                   Why don't you mind your business, Dennis, you menace.

MORT              Touché on the crossfire, if you don't mind. We have new roads to take.

BARB                Either way—it's English.

DEN                 We was on a bumpy one last week.

MORT             Dennis, how many times must I tell you it is—were, we were, they were, I...oops, almost overshot myself on that one.

DEN                 Anyhow that Hamlet character...were too much. [Mortimer winces; Janice laughs]

VICKI              Why do we hafta know all that stuff, anyways, Mr. Mortimer?...I mean, after all, my folks came over here to get away from the Queen's English.

MORT             You don't haf...er, have to know anything, Vicki, but most of us strive for knowledge through this language that has been functional—and I add beautiful—for a thousand years. Now, your parents, though I doubt the alleged motive, might very well have wished to escape the Queen's English—but not English, which is ubiquitous, and the beauty of it forever enjoyed.[becomes transcendent] Ah, how sweet to one's ear when another speaks with vented vowels and crisp consonants! I shall never forget my seventh grade teacher...

DEN                 Pretty, huh?

MORT             Eh?...Well, not in the vernacular sense, but oh, what beauty she possessed in her love for our native tongue![circles desk]

WIMP              Who's he talking about, Cliff?...Pocahantas?

 CLIFF               Get back in your shell, Wimp.

 MORT              Yes, yes, I suppose pretty—nobly beautiful— when she introduced us to poetry...

WIMP               Who?... Is that the crazy guy who wrote about a weirdo pumping heart that bounced around a creepy house?

CLIFF               You idiot, he said poetry, not Poe.

MORT             ...such romance! Her every word was a new adventure. [paces toward lectern]

ERNIE              He’s off the edge again.

DEN                 She sure must’ve been pretty.

ERNIE             That’s how I felt about Ms. Henderson when we had her in our freshman year.

DEN                 She's something all right. I wonder if he’s getting any of it.

ERNIE             I doubt it....they probably discuss great books in the backseat.

MORT             [leans forward on lectern] The very first poem she read to us....I still remember every lovely word....[leans back against blackboard and looks up with a smile] Hmm, let’s see...ha, yes

When in the thaw of spring, my blood flowed hot

And I did sense the drama of exciting life—

Touching, smelling, tasting, hearing and seeing—

All that is worthy of my soul’s embrace,

My voice sings out to every note of re-creation

And I feel as Adam—awed, inspired, grateful

[steps forward and braces the lectern with both hands; surveying the class, but oblivious to their lack of attention; Marlene, however, seems to be in a deep swoon, hanging to his every move and word]

ERNIE             Grateful for his Eve, he means.

DEN                 Yeah,...sure not talking about apples.

MORT                                       Ah, this wondrous thing given to enjoy

By the master poet God, who gave us the Word,

Without which there’d be no songs to release,

Our love and thanks choked within our hearts;...

[He releases his hold on the lectern and steps back to lean against the blackboard]

WIMP              What’s he talking about now—the Grateful Dead?

CLIFF              Beats me....I lost him when the blood flowed hot [the little girl, Cynthia, admires Wimpy, she turns around]

CYN                 The blood flows hot when one’s in love, Wimpy.

WIMP              Yeah? [leans forward]... really—is it flowing in you now?

CYN                 [Smiles sheepishly] Maybe, but not for the poetry. Snaps her head away]

MORT                                       Verily, no less melodious

Than Keats’ eye on the urn,

And Shelley’s ascent to the skylark

Is the robin's chirp in spring;

The robust laughter on the bus,

The chorus during commencement,

The crack of the bat on the diamond

—All say the same finest thought—

Thanks, my lord for giving life.

MARL              [out of her trance] Beautiful!...Mr. Mortimer.

JAN                  I think so too.

MORT             Thank you, girls. It's nice to have company in an alien world.

VICKI              [Somewhat impatiently] I believe you said something about a surprise,

MORT             Huh?...Oh yes, of course. Well, guys and gals time for us to be of service to the school. And in order to do that, we have to break out of our shells and go public.

WALTER         [ chubby lad who has had his head down on the desk since entering; looks up squinting] I've been public servicing since September when Mr. Finn put me on work detail for leaving my tray behind.

DEN                 And I keep the Johns in order during my study hall since I spend my study period there anyway.

BARB               Smoking your fool head off, I suppose.

MORT             What I had in mind is more a service to yourselves by doing something worthwhile that you normally wouldn’t do. Every day you come to class and tire of the same old humdrum; so I thought we could do something differently.

VICKI              Great!...you mean something not English?

MORT             No, it'll still be English. [groans from the class.] Look, you know how bored we get reading plays? Who here can tell me why?

JAN                  Because we don't read them right.

CLIFF              That's why I like the recordings by good actors you play once in a while. [Jan looks back at him surprised]

MORT             Exactly! And what makes them good actors.

JAN                  They know how to read.

MORT             That and what else?

BARB               They study.

MORT             How do they study?

WIMP              Acting school? [the whole class turns to Wimp in disbelief]

VICKI              That's the first time l ever heard Wimpy speak!

MORT              But what is the main activity in a school of dramatics?

JAN                   They act out plays.

MORT             And before that?

JAN                  They rehearse.

CLIFF              Yeah, but there’s also stage construction and lighting.

CYN                 Costuming, too.

MORT             Good, class! And that's what we're going to do. We're going to get a close up view of a little play and really learn its lines and actions; instead of thinking of a play as some distant verbal exercise devoid of real life situations and people.

ERNIE             How can we rehearse? Most of us have jobs.

MORT             We don't have to worry about that yet because we're turning the class into a dramatic workshop and do most of the groundwork here.

JAN                  But what about our school work—class tests, midyears and stuff?

BARB               Hey, who cares!—this might be fun.

MORT             Until we really get into it—and after all, it's only a playlet—we shall still be doing our other work. [Jan smiles; others groan]

CLIFF              I still don't see where the service to school comes in by just really learning a play in class?

DEN                 Yeah, what's the hitch?

MORT              Well, if you work hard enough, the reward will be in entertaining others.

DEN                 Those that aren't in the play, right? I'll be glad to volunteer as an audience.

MORT              That will be up to the class to decide who gets roles and who doesn't. Until then all of you will try out.

JAN                  Do we get graded on this?

MORT             It's a legitimate function of class activity; so all of you get graded.

VICKI              We're not actors—what if we bomb out?

MORT             Grades will be based mainly on effort and the spirit of cooperative interaction.

DEN                 How can I get a grade [leans back, puts feet up on desk] if I‘m the audience?

MORT             You shouldn’t count on that Dennis—after all with your mouth, you'll be a natural on stage.[class laughs] However, should you become one of the audience, you'll be required each period to submit a criticism of the action.

DEN                 Ugh, I think I'd rather be in lt. [drops feet from desk sits up]

MORT             [Goes to desk and retrieves the fat folder and begins to distribute the stapled papers] Till the bell we'll overview this playlet I have in mind.

CLIFF              You still didn't answer my question, Mr. Mortimer?

MORT             Uh, what was it again?

CLIFF              About being of service to the school.

MORT             Oh? I thought I had....

DEN                 Yeah, Cliff, you can be the critical audience.

CLIFF              That doesn't service the school, fool.

DEN                 [strained scholarly voice] No, but don't you see?...Your scholarly opinion will service us to better serve you, the audience.

BARB               Wow!...[puts palms to face, jaw drops] Was that Dennis speaking?

MORT             Indeed,...very well put, Dennis.

CLIFF               You still didn’t answer my question on service.

MORT               [looks at Cliff intently] All right, Cliff, if you insist, though I didn't wish to divulge it so soon, lest some of you...well, anyway,...Ms. Henderson and I agreed that when the play was ready, that is, when the class generates self-confidence, you would perform before her class in the little theatre.

DEN                 I knew there was a hitch to it—no way, man.[shakes head vigorously, lifts himself partially as though leaving]

CLIFF              [emphatically] I'm glad I'm quitting.

VICKI              How could you do such a thing to us, Mr. Mortimer? You'll make fools out of us!

MORT             That's not fair, Vicki. I could never do that...but what makes you think that? I have the faith that if we all pull together, I'm confident you will succeed.

BARB               Well, we ain't never done good before—why should it be any different now?

MORT              When did you ever have the opportunity to do something like this? You’ve got to give it a shot.

ERNIE              Hey, you guys, why couldn't we? [rises and swirls head to make contact with class] I was great in Show ‘n' Tell.

DEN                  I remember that in kindergarten—big deal! All you did was bring in your puppy.

ERNIE              I demonstrated how he was paper-trained, didn't I?

DEN                 Yeah, but It missed the paper. Plop! [gestures to floor with disgust; some chuckles]

JAN                  Ernie is right. This is our last year, and what have we done to show for it? Have we ever really done anything? We let the annual musical slip us by; we never try out for the drama club production or any of the class plays. How many of us are in any activity club? Look how much the other kids get out of school, while we just go about our boring routine.

MORT             Good thinking, Janice,...now is the time for all of you to at least give it a try. Believe me, I promise you I will not let you down. If I think you're going to flop, we just won't do It. The only embarrassment will be mine when I inform MS. Henderson that we can't face up to the challenge.

WIMP               I know that class—it sucks—there as dumb as we are! So wadda‘ we got to lose? [class laughs]

DEN                  Hey, man, If Wimpy's game, count me in! Why, I'll even be the leading man! [class laughs, whistles]

MORT              Now that,..I call spirit. [hands out papers stapled] Now take a good look at this over the weekend....And Monday...[eye contacts them slowly] be prepared to...[eye contacts them again] GO FOR IT! [Class cheers; bell rings, curtain]

End of Act I   http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/rrksr

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