(no subject)
*snickers* Okay, so. On being accused of witchcraft.
One of the primary motifs of our production of The Mill on the Floss -- which I'm assistant 'turging -- is the witch, and the drowning of the witch. Last night, when the head 'turg finally got back in town and came to rehearsal, he led an exercise that started with "Someone in this room is a witch. We're going to go around, and everyone's going to say their name and then say why they're not a witch. Take notes on who you think is a witch."
So we did -- eight cast members, director, AD, SM, ASM, sound designer, and both 'turgs, all justifying why they're not witches. ("I'm a Jew, I can't be a witch." "I'm sick, and my legs are cold, and I think magic could fix both of those." "Well, I'm a redhead, but that's just too obvious.")
The majority voted on the senior who contemplatively listed off facts like "Well, I teach yoga . . . I have a twin sister . . . I'm not religious . . . I ride a motorcycle, I really like the full moon . . . oh, I can make bird noises really well. *demonstrates* What else . . . I just shaved for the first time in a year. So . . . yeah. And I'm not a witch."
Only one person accused me of witchcraft, and that was the SM who pointed out that I'm from Alaska.
So that was our experience. The more interesting part -- especially for anyone out there who might ever have the opportunity to teach an anthropology class or similar -- is what the head 'turg said about classrooms where this exercise has been done. Invariably, the people chosen as witches by the class are the people sitting in the T of the front row and along the central aisle. He says that this is because the social norm is to sit in the back or the middle and chill. I think it's also because the front row and the aisles are more visible. True-true related, though, I suppose -- it's not the social norm to be where the professor can easily see you. (We played our game in a circle, so it didn't work out quite the same, but it was fun anyway.)
So. There you have it: my foray into witchcraft. Or not.
One of the primary motifs of our production of The Mill on the Floss -- which I'm assistant 'turging -- is the witch, and the drowning of the witch. Last night, when the head 'turg finally got back in town and came to rehearsal, he led an exercise that started with "Someone in this room is a witch. We're going to go around, and everyone's going to say their name and then say why they're not a witch. Take notes on who you think is a witch."
So we did -- eight cast members, director, AD, SM, ASM, sound designer, and both 'turgs, all justifying why they're not witches. ("I'm a Jew, I can't be a witch." "I'm sick, and my legs are cold, and I think magic could fix both of those." "Well, I'm a redhead, but that's just too obvious.")
The majority voted on the senior who contemplatively listed off facts like "Well, I teach yoga . . . I have a twin sister . . . I'm not religious . . . I ride a motorcycle, I really like the full moon . . . oh, I can make bird noises really well. *demonstrates* What else . . . I just shaved for the first time in a year. So . . . yeah. And I'm not a witch."
Only one person accused me of witchcraft, and that was the SM who pointed out that I'm from Alaska.
So that was our experience. The more interesting part -- especially for anyone out there who might ever have the opportunity to teach an anthropology class or similar -- is what the head 'turg said about classrooms where this exercise has been done. Invariably, the people chosen as witches by the class are the people sitting in the T of the front row and along the central aisle. He says that this is because the social norm is to sit in the back or the middle and chill. I think it's also because the front row and the aisles are more visible. True-true related, though, I suppose -- it's not the social norm to be where the professor can easily see you. (We played our game in a circle, so it didn't work out quite the same, but it was fun anyway.)
So. There you have it: my foray into witchcraft. Or not.