Top: Student actors at Hill Central on a recent Tuesday morning. Bottom: Students at Bishop Woods, including Victoria Romero Quezada, get into the show. Lucy Gellman Photos.
The first time Victoria Romero Quezada heard Eddie Santiago cry out from the stage—Ah, Dios! Fleas!?— a brown and red mane bobbing around his face, his voice had a warmth and timbre that felt so familiar it reminded her of home.
By the time he leapt from the stage, a fearsome lion looking for his lunch in an audience of K-2 students, she was rooting him on.
And when the curtain closed and he became mortal again, she reached out, excited to hold his hand and make sure that he was real.
That power of live theater came to Bishop Woods Architecture & Design Magnet school on a recent Thursday, in the first of three in-school performances of from Shubert In Motion, a new initiative that brings together the Shubert Theatre and students at Southern Connecticut State University (SCSU) to devise, produce and perform a new work of children’s theater.
For eight months, both institutions have been building out the first year of the program with New Haven Public Schools (NHPS) students in mind. Now, the student-devised work “Lion Tales” has arrived on stages across the district—with plans to expand in the coming year.
Schools in the first year include Barack Obama Magnet University School (BOMUS), Bishop Woods Architecture & Design Magnet School, and Hill Central Music Academy. In the next year, the Shubert and SCSU plan to bring “Lion Tales” to John C. Daniels School of International Communication, Mauro Sheridan Interdistrict Magnet School, Booker T. Washington Academy, and ACES Wintergreen Interdistrict Magnet School among others. SCSU students will also be writing a new work for NHPS students, likely in grades three through five.
“I’m so proud of them,” said SCSU Professor Stephanie Eiss, who is also the director of education and outreach for Shakespeare on the Sound, and brought the project into its final stages with a practicum in children’s theater this semester. “They [the students] did such beautiful work … my favorite thing about working with them in this way is it’s theirs … it’s just a joy to see.”
“It's literally helping make the magic of a show onstage,” added Tracy Stratton, education programs manager at the Shubert. In the fall, Stratton kicked off the program in classrooms from Quinnipiac Meadows to the Hill, teaching students about “the puzzle pieces of theater” for the first time. She’s been with it every step of the way since. “When the kids have those building blocks of theater, they believe in it more and more.”
Lamb (Charitee Cecil, at center) asks Blue Lion (Tay’von Martin) and Red Lion (Eddie Santiago) to split her, knowing that she can outwit the pair.
Much of that magic is in giving students—both those in elementary school, and those at the university level—the permission and the resources to play. Last year, the Wilton-based, Dutch-owned microchip manufacturer ASML made a $1.2 million gift to the Shubert, which allowed it to broaden its scope of educational programming for the first time in years (already, the Shubert does a lot with a little, including programming with the New Haven Free Public Library and subsidized performances for youth at their College Street organization).
After bringing on Stratton, who for years taught at West Haven High School, the Shubert also partnered with SCSU on two courses, an independent study and the practicum that Eiss led this semester. Kelly Wuzzardo, director of education and engagement at the Shubert, jumped in wherever she could be helpful.
Meanwhile, it built out its partnerships with the city’s public schools, many of which have limited resources for arts education in a district grappling with a $13 million deficit. At Hill Central, music teachers Jaclyn Chiarelli and Becca Corbin have been steadfast champions of the arts, including with a performance of Aladdin, Jr. that sparkled last year. At Bishop Woods, educator Hope Flanigan has held it down with theater classes for every student in the building, working with kids from kindergarten all the way through eighth grade. At BOMUS, teacher Keith Capozzi has been building student confidence through music, but doesn’t always have the time or space to extend that work to theater.
Last year, collaborators very much hit the ground running. In October, Stratton did weeks of classroom visits, talking to hundreds of students about the inner workings of a performance, and the cast and crew members that bring it to life (read about those here). The idea, she and Wuzzardo said at the time, was to bring the power of theater to students, some of whom may never make it to a student performance at the theater’s College Street home. Students who have that kind of access may be more likely to stay engaged in the arts—which teaches them soft skills like empathy, active listening, and social and emotional learning.
Across the city at SCSU’s Beaver Hills campus, college students (and professors like Eiss and Department Chair Mike Skinner) were deep in the dramatic weeds, building a script based on three different proverbs, New Haven’s diverse student population, and the idea of kindness as a life-saving force. In March, a student ensemble hosted a staged reading of the show, collecting audience feedback before a final round of edits, a few more props, and the addition of whimsical costumes from designer Heidi Leigh Hanson and sophomore Juliana Garcia. Then last month, the ensemble brought a final run-through to a test audience at Southern.
Santiago as Red Lion.
During that performance, audiences who have been with the show could see some of the work that has gone in specifically with young New Haveners in mind. Santiago, a freshman who is Puerto Rican and grew up in West Haven, folded Spanish into the script, from simple counting exercises (“Cuatro, cinco?” a character responds when asked how long he’s been trapped in a net) to full sentences that students could understand based on context, regardless of their primary language at home. “I’m in the mood for ratón!” his character says at one point, and at every school, it elicited laughs.
“It’s important to be inclusive,” he later told a group of students at Hill Central on a recent Tuesday of the choice to bring in Spanish.
Senior Dahlia Greenberg, who is studying theater and makeup design, added nods to K-Pop Demon Hunters and “Baby Shark,” with old school games like pat-a-cake and some skipping worked in just for good measure. Students Azaad Mamoon and Megan Herrera added simple props that could help their peers world-build whatever stage they were on. A creative village, from technical director Brandon Fuller to a test audience across four generations, did the rest.
“I think it's really fun,” said Charitee Cecil, who plays the character Lamb and has worked in early childhood education as a daycare staffer, after the run through. “We’re basically bringing a book to life.”
“I loved it!” chimed in Ken Robinson, an actor who will be teaching scene study at SCSU in the fall, and brought along his young son, Trace, as a discerning test viewer. “I loved it. The fact that they created this from scratch for the kids in this community, by the [older] kids in this community, I loved it.”
Dahlia Greenberg as the mouse at Bishop Woods.
As it came to life on a recent Thursday—and thrice again the following week, on different stages across the city—that excitement flowed from actors to kids and right back to actors again, sometimes so contagious that actors had to work not to break character. As actors slipped into costume, dozens of Bishop Woods students made their way into the school’s cafeteria, which is also the auditorium. Already, the smell of lunch hung thick in the air, something acidic and tomatoey at its edges.
Even before Dr. Tortoise (senior Kira Kelly) had walked on to introduce the premise, students seemed hooked, soaking in the world that crew members had started building around them. The sounds of chirping birds and howling monkeys, their voices high-pitched and full of longing, wove through the cafeteria (a nod to stage manager Dakota Willette, who also ran the sound board). Kelly, sporting a large, padded green shell and a gnarled walking stick, stood by a cluster of tables in the back.
In the first few makeshift rows, pint-sized students Victoria Quezada and Emilio Cayancela whispered amongst their friends, the conversation buzzing from Spanish to English and back again. When Kelly began to glide forward, announcing herself with the words “Let me tell you a story” in a rich, deep voice that carried, they fell instantly to a hush, eyes swiveling to the front of the room.
Onstage, Santiago had transformed into Red Lion, with a gnawing, painful hunger in the pit of his stomach that was outmatched only by a persistent itch up and down his mane. He clawed at the tufts of tan hair and red feathers, a growl rising from somewhere in his ribcage. As Tortoise began to diagnose him, the two started to bicker, already at an impasse. They were less than three minutes into the show—maybe four—and had stumbled into their first disagreement.
For Red Lion, “Monkey is lunch!,” although perhaps not a meal that would leave him fully sated. For Tortoise, Monkey was “a member of our co-mmuuu-nity,” who could remove the fleas—and thus the itch—from Lion’s mane. As they went back and forth, the gentle push-pull felt like an argument two siblings (or peers, or perhaps a student and a teacher) might have over a beloved toy or mutual friend, one focused on the community’s needs as the other thought about their own.
In a city where 24 percent of city residents reported food insecurity last year, it also felt like a way to talk about problem-solving—and lunch—as a path to survival. After all, couldn’t there be a world where Monkey and Red Lion were both right?
Back in the second row, Emilio was propped up on his knees, watching with bated breath to see what would happen next. When Kelly and Santiago summoned him onto the stage, to deliver a "prescription" for Monkey, a small, tight smile bloomed across his face. He was now officially part of the show. As he walked back into the audience, he pushed his hands into his pockets, the smile stretching to his eyes.
On stage, the action continued to build, members of the young audience careful not to miss a moment. Santiago, narrowing his brows and locking eyes with students in the front rows, wondered aloud through a plan to trap Monkey (Malachy Jackson, who also helped write the show), with a false promise of mangoes that could solve his lunch plans once and for all. Monkey, in turn, fretted aloud to Macaw (Jay Jones), unsure of whether or not they could trust the King of the Jungle after all.
In the audience, the giggles had started, thanks partly to Jackson’s commitment to the role. Outside of SCSU, Jackson works with youth as part of the Bethel-based Era Productions, where he’s assisting on a middle school run of Mean Girls. On a small podium that stood in for a stump, he flexed those skills, with a few shrieks of Ooooh-oooh! Aaah-ah! that unlocked some permission to be silly in the room. Soon, the laughter was free-flowing, still measured and polite as students quieted down to make sure they didn’t miss a single line.
Back on stage, the scheming was in full effect. Even amidst the first few cries of “Nooo!” or “no, don’t do it!” from the young audience, Santiago cackled and smirked, growled and pounced. Or rather, tried to pounce, and missed. In a tan vest and neat, matching headband with soft ears, Jackson flew from the stage, Jones-as-Macaw not far behind. Her wings, rainbow-patterned and draped over her shoulders, glowed as she expanded her arms and waved them, make-believing herself into a wild, majestic bird.
As they ran towards the back of the audience, some students turned around in their places, eyes saucer-wide and mouths agape, not for the last time that morning. “Oh nooooooooo!” Victoria cried from the second row, a dainty pink-and-white image of Hello Kitty stretching out across the left side of her hoodie. He braid swished back and forth across her shoulders as she shook her head, genuinely frightened. At a thicket of tables where teachers sat, Jackson and Jones looked around at students, searching for a lion in their midst.
“I like the Red Lion the best because the Red Lion was so funny,” Victoria later said, and it was easy to see her words in every calculated step Santiago took down from the stage, scurrying around the room in a permanent squat as he chased after his prey. He comes by that humor and ease naturally: in high school, Santiago soared in a production of Lend Me A Tenor, a farce that depends on comic timing and the total suspension of disbelief. A year later, he’s doing the same thing, but for audience members who remind him of a younger him.
Eddie Santago at Bishop Woods. Malachy Jackson as Monkey in the performance at Hill Central.
The momentum continued to build, students cheering the animals on with both vigor and reverence that seemed reserved for kids who were much older. When Cecil padded onstage as a cunning lamb, students were quick to cheer her on—only to blow up her spot as she slipped into the audience, trying to escape Red Lion and his brother, Blue Lion (Tay’von Martin) before they gobbled her up. “She’s right there! There!” dozens of young voices cried, increasingly insistent as students pointed, rose to their knees, and even waved at Cecil as she held a finger to her lips.
When hunters crept into the jungle in the dead of night, pulling a net over lion siblings (Martin, Santiago, and RJ McDermott as Yellow Lion) as they slept, those same students were the first to spring from their places on the floor, arms raised in alarm as they pleaded with the lions to wake up. “It’s a trap!” came a small, certain voice from the right side of the room, beside a wall of windows that looks out onto Quinnipiac Avenue. “It’s a net! A net!” came another from the back of the audience, where a knot of first graders sat.
“They need help!” a student at the front informed Kelly-as-Tortoise as the lions began to stir beneath the rope netting, and she moved back toward the stage.
“Don’t look at me,” Kelly said with a laugh. And then, with a mysticism reserved for a clairvoyant, “I’m not even here!” At the back of the room, a few teachers began to laugh.
In the end, it was Greenberg, skipping back towards the beasts as a tender-hearted mouse, who saved the day. Already, she’d had enough adventures for a small lifetime, handing out flowers, pulling second grader Yamilia Cortes onto the stage as an extra character, watching the lions slumber with the wonder of astronomers taking in the milky way for the first time. Just minutes earlier—although it had felt like much longer—the lions had spared her life, with the promise she would save them. Now, she was making good on it.
“Please Mouse! Necesitamos ayuda!” begged McDermott, a desperate edge to their voice.
“How long have you been trapped here?” Greenberg asked, her voice sweet and comically high at the same time. Above a pair of sparkly converses, the billow of a lavender-colored, tulle skirt made the magic real.
“A few hours? Six, seven?” McDermott responded.
The response was immediate: students bobbed with excitement, their hands juggling imaginary weight as they yelled out the words “Six - Seeeeven!” in slow motion. And then, just as quickly as the audience had exploded into sound, students were quiet, excited to see what Mouse would do. Perhaps some mirror image of the same interaction was taking place in a classroom across town, as students learned to share space with each other, and offer help when their peers needed it.
In interviews after the show, Victoria, Emilio and Yamilia all had high praise for the performance, with a particular affinity for Santiago. Yamilia, who is in second grade, said she was particularly moved by the reminder to be kind, even on days when it feels like that kindness isn’t mutual. By that evening, she’d be practicing it with her younger brother, who is just three and hasn’t mastered concepts like giving things back or sharing yet.
“Some people be nice and some people don’t be nice,” she said. “I always be very kind.”
“I like Eddie because he does kind things at the end,” said Emilio as Santiago crouched down, a spray of curls where his mane had been. Victoria, whose family hails from Ecuador, walked over and slipped her hand into his. The Spanish in the play, delivered with warmth and candor, had felt so familiar that it hooked her instantly.
“I love you,” Emilio said as Greenberg walked over to join in, and a gaggle of students materialized instantly.
“I think this is huge,” said Flanigan, who had signed the words “thank you” to cast and crew members at the end of the performance. “I think it [theater] really makes a difference in social and emotional learning and behavior.”
That was clear just a few days later, as the same performance rolled into Hill Central, some of the SCSU students still bleary-eyed as they balanced the play with final exams and last-minute graduation requirements.
As she plopped down in a makeshift front row, kindergarten student Dahlia Carreno was excited before the action even began, having spotted Kelly walking around the gymnasium before the show. “I saw a turtle!” she exclaimed. In part because she finds them irresistibly cute, they are her favorite animals—even in human form.
For the next 30 minutes, young students let the cast transform the space, delighting in the language that flowed from the stage. When Santiago greeted Martin with a secret handshake and a chipper “Ayyyyy Primo!,” students laughed and smiled, perhaps reminded of their own siblings. When Lamb ran out into the gymnasium, the shouts of “There! There!” or “She’s here!” were immediate. And when Greenberg pulled fourth grader Lyliana Caro into the show, she beamed, excited to make the role her own just for a moment.
“I was a little nervous at first because she [Greenberg] just came out of nowhere,” Lyliana said, adding that she’s already thinking about being an arts educator herself, just like Chiarelli and Corbin. “But now I feel special. I just like it [theater] because there’s a lot of different ways when you do things to act and express your feelings.”