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Keep Dreaming by Michael Callahan

Codie Elaine Brooks, a fellow Life After Film School co-host, recently blogged about our interview with Brad Falchuk, the co-creator and executive producer of the new Fox series Glee.  As Codie mentioned, he's also the co-founder of the Young Storytellers Foundation.

The Young Storytellers Foundation (YSF) teams adults - writers, filmmakers, actors, film students - with 4th and 5th graders from targeted schools who (per the YSF website) "have little or no access to the arts."  For one hour each week, for seven weeks, the mentors "guide and encourage the students as they imagine and develop their own short screenplay."

Hey, let's hop into this conveniently placed time machine for a quick, thematically relevant detour!

When I was three-years-old, my dad and I would sit on the carpeted floor of our family's townhouse and write stories.  Rather, I would tell stories to my dad, and he would type them out on his typewriter.

I don't have many memories from that period, and if you asked me what color my dad's shirt was on the day we wrote my sequel to Superman, I couldn't tell you.  But I recall with crisp clarity the way I felt when he read my stories aloud.  Hearing my words spoken in someone else's voice somehow validated their existence.  I had created something real.

I joined YSF with that memory in mind.

YSF starts each hour-long session with a series of activities that teach the fundamentals of storytelling in engaging ways.  Take, for example, "Three Things."  Everybody is randomly paired up with someone else, and each person studies the appearance of his or her partner, from hairstyle to shoe color.  Everyone turns around and changes three things about their appearance, then flips back around and must identify the three differences in their partner's appearance.

It was a huge hit, and if the kids had their way we would have played Three Things for the rest of the hour.  But amidst the tugging of socks, twisting of hats and flipping of collars, the children learned how even the smallest details - a crooked shoelace, an un-tucked shirt - matter to a story.

I was mentor to a 10-year-old girl named Michaelle.  She was extremely shy at the start of the program, slow to offer her opinion and quick to defer to mine.  My job as a mentor wasn't to help her think of ideas; what little I could initially get out of Michaelle burst with creativity.  No, most of my job was simply repeating a variation of the phrase, "That is a wonderful idea."

We fleshed out her story over a five-week period, and the change that took place in Michaelle was palpable.  By the fifth week my encouragement was no longer required, and at times I couldn't type her words on my laptop as quickly as she came up with them.

The young storytellers completed their screenplays by the end of Week 7, and Week 8 - the final week - brought with it 'The Big Show.'  Per the YSF website: "In the eighth week, professional Hollywood actors perform the students' scripts for a live audience. We call these performances the "Big Show" because for the students watching their creation come to life, it is a very big moment."

Mentors and mentees arrived early to the elementary school's auditorium this past Tuesday to prepare.  Posters were drawn, colored, and put up.  Much pizza was consumed.  The talented actors arrived, auditioned for the children, and were cast.

The auditorium filled to capacity with students, and the performances began.  Soon it was time for Michaelle's story, 'Keep Dreaming,' about a 10-year-old girl's dream to travel to the moon.  I stole glances her way as the actors ran about the stage, morphing into astronauts, principals, and even, on occasion, spaceships.  

An earthquake couldn't have shaken Michaelle's gaze from the stage.  She laughed at the jokes she had written, and tensed up at the moments she intended to be suspenseful.  It was a story she had spent five weeks preparing, but you'd have thought she was experiencing it for the first time.  

It's easy to become jaded in film school, when writing can sometimes feel like a never-ending turnstile of feedback and revision.  Seeing Michaelle's reaction as her script was brought to life reminded me of the raw, awe-inspiring power of storytelling.  Corny as it sounds, I have gotten more out of YSF than I have put in.

Perhaps it's too poetically convenient to say that the look on Michaelle's face was similar to the one I wore when my dad read my first story back to me.  Maybe, in a subconscious desire to have my YSF experience play out a certain way, I saw only what I wanted to see.  All the same, as the auditorium emptied and the scattered pizza boxes were thrown away, Michaelle asked a final question before she ran off to class.

"Can I do this again?"