“Knowing yourself is the beginning of all wisdom.” –Aristotle
This afternoon during one of our soon-to-be famous Latin lessons, our instructor mentioned briefly Newport Children’s Theater, a place where budding thespians can begin honing their acting chops as young as eight years old. I turned to Oscar; and though I knew the answer before I even asked, I asked: “Oscar, is that something you’d be interested in doing?” I barely had a chance to utter the last syllable of my inquiry before his emphatic “NO!” hit the airwaves.
Oscar, the consummate showman at home (we could sell tickets to his performance when we run out of Cheez-Its), has yet to be bitten by the acting bug. He’s had plenty of opportunities–starting in preschool; and, very recently I thought a friend at school, who performed in a NCT production, might inspire him. But, alas, no.
As we walked out of the library today after our lesson, I mentioned it one more time–just to check in and possibly delve into his rationale a bit more deeply.“Oscar, are you absolutely sure you wouldn’t be interested in Newport Children’s Theater?”
“It’s fine with me. I was just curious as to why.”
“Well, I love going to plays and seeing other people perform. It’s just not for me. I get stage fright.”
And just as I was about to bring up the fact that he regularly hits the stage with his violin in tow, he said: “I know what you’re thinking. But the violin is different. When I’m on stage with my violin, it’s the violin that does the talking. Not me. So, that I can do.”
A soon-to-be eight-year-old who knows his limits, who feels comfortable and safe expressing them, who knows himself.
Take a bow, Oscar. You’re on your way.