Twenty-Nine
I was 17 when I first attended Circle. I had high hopes for the summer program since it had been recommended by a friend. I had two experiences during those seven weeks that will stay with me forever.
I was presenting as female at the time and, I’ll remind you, underaged. During a scene study class where I was meant to rehearse a Joe/Harper scene from Angels in America, I had a well-intentioned yet ultimately catastrophic idea where I’d explore Harper’s loneliness and sexual frustration by donning lingerie. Before entering the classroom, I felt pretty confident about my decision, feeling safe, and supported in this “professional” environment. Upon entering the room, my teacher showed me the error of my thinking without uttering a word. I was greeted with concerned looks from my adult classmates, and as I scanned the room, I noticed my teacher staring at my body with a cocked eyebrow and an obvious smirk. What began as confidence instantly shriveled into fear, regret, and instability. I remember my teeth chattering, and my knees and hands shaking ferociously as the panic attack set in. Unable to properly voice my concerns, I pressed on, all the while wishing I had a teacher who would have instead of taking delight in an underaged body, pulled me aside, and said ‘hey, this doesn’t seem safe for someone your age to be doing. I understand your intention, but this isn’t appropriate.’ But no, I got the creepy, old, white guy who seemingly never knew the answer to anyone’s questions.
The second experience from that summer came from a classical text class. Our teacher was having us collectively do a popcorn reading of the bastard speech from King Lear with a very painful twist. This particular teacher was very fond of physically abusing her students for the sake of emotion and this case was no different. I stood with my text in hand, ready to give it my all. She approached me gingerly, saying, “Okay, just start from the beginning.” I hadn’t even gotten through the first line before my hair was in her fist and I was being pushed onto the floor. She pinned me there, crouched on top of me as I spat and screamed my way through the text, letting my anger go unchecked. About halfway through the speech, she silenced and released me, getting up and moving onto the next student. No aftercare. No check-in. No asking beforehand if I had knee problems (which I now do, thanks to CITS) and no asking if/how this experience of unfiltered rage would affect my mental state for the rest of the day. That’s the thing about CITS faculty, they don’t care about the mental health of their students. They think their program is one-size-fits-all and it’s not. But I wouldn’t learn that until I went back for the two-year program three years later.
I know what you’re thinking, “why would you go back after how poorly it went the first time?” My answer is: A) I had tried studying theatre at two different universities and it wasn’t for me (college isn’t for everyone and that isn’t a bad thing), B) My mom really wanted me to finish some form of higher learning (I never did), C) Jewish guilt is a powerful thing, D) Two years of school seemed more manageable than four, and E) I was still living under the misconception that being mistreated was part of working in theatre.
As you can well imagine, nothing had changed in the way the school was being run over the course of three years, and while I have a plethora of stories I could tell, I think I’ll just boil it down to a couple of big ones for the sake of readability.
A little backstory for you, I’m epileptic and non-binary. I was on the verge of coming out during my final semester at Circle but decided against it. First, we’ll address the fact that CITS pretty much has a zero-tolerance policy against those with disabilities if it interferes with attendance. The particular kind of epilepsy I have is triggered by lack of sleep and stress, two things that are abundant at Circle in the Square, so as you can imagine, I was having plenty of seizures and missing plenty of classes. This is what ultimately led to me being dismissed from the school altogether because there’s no way in hell I was about to act like repeating the second year was more important than my happiness, freedom, and safety. Nobody was taking notes for me on the days I couldn’t come in and so I was left to figure shit out for myself, all the while getting more anxious and losing more sleep over trying to catch up, and thus repeating the horrific cycle of seizure, no help, seizure, no help. My circumstance was met with disdain and ableism. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.
My final story is a bit more abstract. As I mentioned, I didn’t come out during my time at Circle because after my interactions with several classmates and faculty members about gender and bringing in “male” songs and monologues, I figured it wasn’t safe. One of the last things I did before leaving the school was begging my European scene study teacher to let me play one of the male roles. I told him I didn’t care which one, I just needed to. I was denied this opportunity in a school that supposedly is all about “living your truth.” A similar encounter happened with my song interpretation (or something, I honestly forget what the actual name of the class was) teacher. I had brought in songs traditionally sung by men. All she said was “you’ll never use this, it doesn’t make sense to have it in your book” and instead kept on giving me songs “for butch women” because that’s all she saw: a butch woman. After these encounters, I realized that if I was going to come out and live my best, honest life, it couldn’t be here in this basement full of old, cis, white people telling me I’m not allowed to fuck around with gender because it isn’t “real” or “marketable”
Just like any student of Circle, I hated it there. I’m one of the lucky ones who made it out before they had completely crushed my soul and spirit. I just hope this letter serves as a strong enough warning to those considering CITS as a place for study that this is not the “professional” institution it claims to be. You will be abused, you will be tokenized, and you will lose your individuality.
— Teagan Kazia