When I was about to enter high school, I read a nonfiction book about high school called South of Heaven: Welcome to High School at the End of the 20th Century. It was written by education reporter Thomas French, who followed five high schoolers around for a year and chronicled their lives. I remember that it featured students who fit stereotypes that could've been ripped from The Breakfast Club or The Perfect Score, in an out-of-touch adult's attempt to portray all facets of the high school experience. It was terrifying. It was moving. It was also accurate. Drama High by Michael Sokolove could be described as a mashup of that, plus Glee. But, it is also much more than that, because it also functions as a biography of Lou Volpe, the man who created the most groundbreaking and instrumental high school theater program in the US. So, when I heard about it (better late than never, right?), I had to check it out from the library.
There's always something compelling about a group of scrappy kids with the odds against them excelling at something nobody expects them to be able to do with any sort of skill. This particular story is the something-out-of-nothing narrative every kid whose school calendar has a marker-scribbled countdown to the Tony awards scrawled over the top of school assignments and choir concert dates will eat up with a fork and knife. When the miniseries based upon this book is released (slated for later this year), I wouldn't be surprised if hundreds of Broadway hopefuls spend the time between dance classes and monologue rehearsals trying to talk their parents into moving to Levittown, Pennsylvania--the blighted blue-collar community out of whose concrete this rose has emerged.
But focusing on the kids, or the precocious theater program which shines like a beacon from the otherwise mostly darkened landscape of Harry S Truman High School, is like admiring the tree trunk and branches and leaves without acknowledging its roots. The root of this landmark drama program is Lou Volpe, a man who spent four decades building it, shepherding students from unlikely places toward his own personal love of theater, and giving them a ticket out to somewhere bigger and full of more opportunities than two part time jobs and a lifetime of near-poverty in Levittown. He is perceptive. He is endlessly interesting. He is empathetic. He is gay, which is considered an open secret within the Truman community. And, until fairly recently (all things considered), he was married. He has a son.
Sokolove made interesting choices when it came time to piece Drama High together--some were brilliant, and others were ineffectual. I appreciated that Sokolove allowed readers to view Volpe through the eyes of many different people: former and current students, parents, teachers, administrators, his family, and members of the community. When dealing with a subject such as Lou Volpe, I suspect there is always myth to separate from the man, and having as many sources as possible seems like the best way to enable readers in that endeavor. But, just when it felt like the narrative of the story was developing in one direction, it would take a sharp turn in another for no apparent reason. Some of the sections felt like they were included in the book out of order, and others felt as if they didn't belong at all. The biggest assets Sokolove brought to the table were perceptive descriptions of his hometown (and Alma Mater), and the nice balance he struck between impartial observer and fan who couldn't help but root for the town, the school, and the theater program to succeed. Because of this, readers will be rooting for all three, and also Volpe and his students, which makes Drama High so much more than a nonfiction book about education.
However, some of Sokolove's research was inaccurate (asserting that the IB program is equivalent to the AP program, for example, when one is only recognized within the US and the other is worldwide, and IB is widely known to feature much more rigorous coursework). And other assertions felt like they were off-base simply because he was a bit out-of-touch, due to too many years lapsing between his graduation from high school and the publication of Drama High. I wondered if some of his interviewees (especially current students) wouldn't have been more candid with a writer closer to their own age.
Drama High can be read on an entirely different level by a teacher: this is how to formulate a meaningful connection with your students. This is how to reach out to kids with home lives that are beyond troubled and sacrifice of yourself to provide them with the security they need to take the important risks, Volpe's actions seem to say. How to fight red tape. How to gain opportunities and resources for your students. How to make allies. How to enable kids to achieve greatness.
Ultimately, there's much to love about Drama High. If you have an avid interest in theater, learning about the test pilot program for high school productions will be a real treat. If you fondly recall your own days auditioning for the school play and going out for milkshakes after rehearsal, Drama High might provide a nice trip down memory lane. If you're a teacher looking to read about a highly effective educator, this is a must-read. And, if you're planning to watch the TV miniseries, well, I always say you should read the book first.
