https://www.podbean.com/media/share/pb-b32jz-1075a0c

In this episode, Nick and Brie celebrate the end of the school year with improviser, producer, and Kindergarten teacher Kirk McCullough. Kirk came into the Toronto improv community as one of the most organized show producers on the scene. One half of the improv duo Cadley Brooper, Kirk produces Duo Derby, one of the only live shows to seemingly seamlessly transition to an ideal online improv experience. Having studied at The Second City and now a member of the Assembly, Kirk is bringing positive, supportive and joyful vibes to the community, both online and off.

When it comes to splitting focus between teaching kids and improvising with grown-ups, balance is required, and we learn some of the challenges Kirk has faced along the way when it comes to making sure he’s putting his energy in the right places.

Teacher by day, performer by night. This episode answers the ultimate question: “HOW DOES SHE DO IT?”

Key Creative Tips:

Live / Online Comedy Show Producing, Improv, Teaching, Teaching Online, Finding Balance, Going with the Flow, LGBTQ Pride.

 

Nick’s Update: No writing. Spending time with Kids.

Brie’s Update: New Second City class on Hosting. Having enough students signed up to hold classes.

 

RESOURCES:

More from PATRICK & RYAN

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#StruggleOn

Anxiety is weird and sometimes I think my SSRIs are even weirder.

Follow the Path

I’ve recently rediscovered a love affair with hiking. I live near the Short Hills Provincial Park, and over the past year I’ve spent a lot of time getting reacquainted with nature trails, steep climbs and butterfly cocoons. It’s also a great way to get my rings closed (amirite?)

I’ve got pretty comfortable with one trail in particular. It takes just over an hour to hike the whole thing and there’s a lovely waterfall along the way. Delightful.

But every once in a while, I don’t want to take the comfortable trail. It’s human nature to explore, so I seek out new paths.

Earlier this week, I went off and followed a different path than usual. One that indicated at the beginning that no horses were allowed. It started very tame, but after a while yeah, I get why you wouldn’t want to bring a horse along with ya. I eventually started to realize I had no idea where I was in relation to where my car was parked. I considered returning in the same direction from where I came, but felt like I was already too far gone to go back. And anyway, I think I’d jumped onto a completely different path along the way, so I’m not even sure I would have been able to find my way back!

I take my phone with me when I go hiking because I’m not an idiot. There’s still a fair amount of cellphone reception in the Short Hills that I could find where I was on Google Maps and try to connect up with some of the main paths outlined in the GPS. Except that my iPhone 7’s battery ain’t what she used to be, and the power quickly began to drain from 30% to 20% and uh-oh now the bar’s gone red I should probably turn it off and hope for the best.

An open field amongst the woods with a beautiful blue sky.
Conversation with myself: “Hey jerk, maybe you shouldn’t be taking pictures when your phone’s about to die?” “But look how majestic this open field looks now that I’ve escaped one heavily wooded area and am en route to another?”

Thought Process Pre & Post Meds

This is where pre-medicated Brie would have started to freak out. I even felt the urge a few times too. Thoughts came up like “maybe now’s a good time to cry super loud or just sit down and bash your fist against the ground? Maybe that’ll be helpful!”

And just as quick as those thoughts occurred, I could feel ol’ SSRI stepping up to the bat:

“No need to cry Brie – just keep walking, you’ll connect with the right way back anytime now! Trust your cadet training and outdoor prowess” and;

“Keep going. 5% is more than enough juice to call someone!”

It did go a little far when I recall myself thinking:

“Don’t worry Brie, I’m sure if your phone dies, you can sleep in the woods overnight and find your way back tomorrow! It’s totally cool out here, you’ll love it! Curl up to a cuddly critter for warmth!”

Very shortly after that, I did reconnect with the main path easily made my way back to the parking lot.

However, it did make me wonder if sometimes my medication might work too well.

Fuck it. Who wants to go play in the woods?

(Le français suit)

A little shameless self-promotion, which will only really be accessible to you if you speak or understand French. Unless there are subtitles available somewhere. I haven’t checked for that yet. I can’t do everything, people.

Anyway, one of the wonderful projects I was lucky enough to be cast in (over Covid!) has been released, and it’s a really lovely coming-of-age / take-down-the-man webseries about renovictions in Toronto. It’s beautifully shot, the cast is terrific. I’m proud to be a part of it. It’s called Ainsi va Manu.

Here’s the trailer:

The full episodes are available here.

Insécurité linguistique

I was a little reluctant to even audition for the role of Mme Gisèle because even though I’ve written “fluently bilingual” on every resume I’ve ever written, every time a new opportunity arises in my mother tongue (yes, I learned French first, actually though I now consider it my second language. There’s a whole section for folks like me in the census!)

In high school, I always got good grades in French. I felt I spoke it more often than most people in school (an all French-language school I should mention – Not French immersion) Grammar and spelling didn’t seem to be too big an issue.

Until I got to university and it turns out grammar was a huge problem. The majority of my courses were in french in first and second year. When I got to second year, I wrote an assignment in French and got a 60%. I wrote a second, similar type of assignment in English and got a 90%. When I approached the teacher, he basically told me my French was shit, and corrected my anglicisms WHILE I WAS SPEAKING TO HIM.

This wouldn’t be the first time I had someone actively criticize my French mid-conversation.

I tried to maintain my French – working in Ottawa for almost a decade, working in France for a year.

A here’s a fun thing that happens in the workplace you might not know about – when people know you speak French in a predominantly anglophone environment, you become the go-to person to translate things between French and English – even though you are not, in fact, a translator and you have the skills to complete work more that isn’t translation-based. You often get assigned translations anyway. Hey! How about that.

I left Ottawa – our officially bilingual capital eleven years ago. Francophones are in the minority in Toronto and Southern Ontario. But we still speak the language. Our accents are a bit different. What do you expect? We live a hop skip and a jump away from the US. We don’t speak it as often because it isn’t as readily available. We have to work harder to keep it up.

People wonder why the French language is dying in Ontario – in Canada. I think a huge part of it has to do with the fact that the people who DO speak the language are afraid to do so in public less their coworkers or university professors chastise them.

So yeah. I was a little reluctant to audition for the role.

But I was reluctant when I auditioned for Les improbables (now, the LIF) a few years back – Toronto’s french language improv group. There, there was no judgement (other than my own perceived one) – just an open welcome and desire to play on stage in our mother tongue.

I felt that support in Ainsi va Manu, as well. I’m very grateful about that.

En français maintenant !

J’ai eu la bonne chance d’être engagé (pendant Covide, même!) dans un merveilleux project qui viens tout juste de sortir. C’est une très belle webérie au sujet des rénovictions au Toronto, qui comprends des thêmes de passage à l’age adulte et de démolir “the man.” Le tournage est magnifique et les acteurs sont formidables. Je suis fière d’avoir être capable de participer.

Vous verrez la bande-annonce ci-haut ainsi que le lien aux autres épisodes.

Linguistic insecurity

J’avais honte d’avancer mon nom pour le rôle de Mme. Gisèle parce que, même si j’ai indiqué que je suis “complètement bilingue” dans chacun de mes CVs depuis toujours, ça me rend nerveuse chaque fois qu’une nouvelle opportunité m’est offerte dans ma langue natale (oui, j’ai appris le français en premier – même que maintenant je la considère comme ma deuxième langue. Il y a une section dévouée aux personnes comme moi dans recensement canadien. C’est super cool!)

J’ai bien réussi dans mes cours de français au secondaire. Je parlais la langue probablement plus souvent que la majorité de mes collègues (dans une école francophone, je dois mentionner – pas une école d’immersion. C’était tout en français sauf, bien sûr, les cours d’anglais.) La grammaire et l’orthographe ne semblaient pas être un grand problème.

J’arrive à l’université et soudainement la grammaire – c’est un grand problème. La majorité de mes cours étaient en français dans ma première et seconde année. En deuxième année à l’université, j’ai écrit un devoir en français et j’ai obtenu un résultat de 60%. J’ai écris un autre devoir semblable, mais en anglais, et j’ai reçu un 90%. J’ai voulu en discuter avec mon prof qui m’a dit essentiellement que mon français était horrible et ensuite m’a corrigé les anglicismes au fur et à mesure que je les faisais EN LUI PARLANT.    

Ce ne serait pas la première fois que quelqu’un me critique mon français-parlé mi-conversation. 

De même, j’ai voulu maintenir mon francais. Je suis resté à Ottawa pendant près de dix ans, et je suis parti travailler en France pendant un an. 

Oh, et voici une chose très amusante qui se passe aux lieux de travail que vous ne connaissez peut-être pas – quand les anglophones savent que vous parlez français, vous devenez la personne pointe pour faire les traductions entre le français en anglais – même si vous n’êtes pas, en fait, une traductrice et que vous avez les habiletés de faire beaucoup de tâches qui n’ont rien à faire avec la traduction. Too bad. Vous allez avoir besoin de traduire quoi qu’il en soit. Eh! C’est le fun! 

J’ai quitté Ottawa, notre capitale officiellement bilingue, il y a onze ans. Les francophones sont dans une position minoritaire à Toronto et dans le sud de l’Ontario. Mais, on parle toujours la langue. Nos accents sont un peu différents, mais à quoi attendez-vous? On habite un saut de puce et un bond des Etats-Unis. On ne le parle pas aussi souvent parce que ce n’est pas aussi accessible ou disponible. Nous devons travailler plus fort pour le maintenir.

Les gens se demandent pourquoi la langue française est en train de disparaître en Ontario – au Canada. J’imagine qu’une grande partie de la raison est parce que ceux qui parlent la langue ne veulent pas le parler de peur que leurs collègues de travail ou leurs professeurs d’université ne les réprimandent.

Alors voilà. J’étais un peu nerveuse pour aller à l’audition (virtuelle) pour le rôle. 

J’étais aussi nerveuse pour l’audition avec les Improbables il y a une couple d’années – la troupe d’impro française de Toronto. (maintenant la LIF.) L’a, il n’y avait pas de jugement (sauf le mien envers moi-même) – c’était ouvert et accueillant avec un désir de jouer en scène dans notre langue maternelle 

J’ai aussi retrouvé ce soutien avec Ainsi va Manu. Et pour cela, je suis très reconnaissante.

This week, I went golfing and got my vaccine. Let me tell you which of these hurt more.

I’m new to golf. Previously, I’d gone to a driving range once, and to a golf course (9 holes) once. To give a bit of context, the course I played was turned into a PetSmart MANY years ago. So, let’s just say it’s been a while.

More context. I live down the street from a lovely, affordable golf course.

Even more context. My brother is obsessed with golf. He’s mentioned it once or twice on our podcast, if you’ve had the chance to listen to it.

So, with the courses freshly opened after lockdown, we got to spend Memorial Day on the green. (My brother works for an American company, so even though we live in Canada, he gets US Holidays off.) (I’m a performing artist who gets to decide when I work, so no judgement for spending the bulk of a Monday afternoon getting some fresh air, alright?!)

How did it all turn out?

So much fun. And also, INFURIATING!!!!!

If that doesn’t sum up the beginner’s experience for most things, I don’t know what does.

  • I kept missing the ball at first, and then again near the end.
  • I could not for the life of me control in which direction the ball was headed.
  • The shots I wanted to go far barely moved forward at all, and the ones I wanted to hit closely went waaaayyy too far.
  • I was exhausted by the time we got to the 9th hole. We played the full 18.

Now luckily the fact that I teach improv to beginners has granted me a little more perspective than the first time I played over a decade ago.

Missing the Ball

Once or twice, missing the ball is hilarious. But more than that, and it’s beyond frustrating. I kept thinking to myself “I can hit a softball no problem, and this ball isn’t even moving. What gives?” Well, a few things give – and pardon my being crude but – let’s compare ball sizes for one. Second, I’ve been playing softball since I was a little kid. Most summers of my life have been spent in some capacity playing softball. “These are two completely different sports.” I had to remind myself and give myself a little grace.

If you’re brand new to something, it’s totally normal to miss a few shots.

No Ball Control

OK, I’m really starting to enjoy the amount of times I’ve written “ball” in this post so far. But it’s true. Step One complete. I hit the ball! Success. Now comes an even more difficult part: controlling the ball! We were super slow on the course, and had a couple parties play through – and many of them had difficulties getting the ball to go where they wanted. These folks have probably been playing for years and it was still a challenge. Sure, they recovered a bit more easily than I did – but again, this was the second goshdarn game of golf I’ve ever played in my LIFE.

Getting good at your craft takes practice. The proverbial 10,000 hours

Just because it felt like 10,000 hours out there on those 18 holes, in essence, I still have 9,995 hours to go.

Can’t Predict What’s Going to Happen

OK maybe when you get a bit better at the game, you can start to get a better sense of where your shots are gonna go. But certainly at this point, the results of my shots were completely unpredictable, which at times was extremely frustrating. But what the hell am I gonna do about it? I can’t go back in time and change the way I shot. You keep moving forward. Keep the ball rolling, literally, in this case.

I remember back to the first time I played. I was embarrassed at how poorly I was doing. I got angry at myself when my score was so much higher than par. I got angry at my golf partner because he was better than I was. (He had, in fact, played before.) I was a big ball of frustration. At least now, I understand those feelings, and when they came up, I accepted this as part of the process. Yes, your ball is going to all over the place, at times seemingly out of control. But the more you work on it, the more control you will wield. The more confidence you’ll have. The less you’ll need to blame it on the wind.

I certainly couldn’t predict my husband breaking my brother’s driver in half when shanking a shot. You want to talk about something that’s both hilarious and embarrassing? Sometimes your teammate will throw you an unpredictable shot too.

You are not alone in this game.

Fatigue

I could not believe how tired I was playing golf. Really when you think about it, you’re just walking around whacking a ball from time to time. It turns out doing that for four hours straight takes its toll on your body and your mind. My feet hurt, my legs were stiff, my shoulder’s were angry and I started making more and more mistakes. This thing that was at first fun hard was getting actually really hard.

I think is an important side note. If it’s not fun anymore, and you’re starting to resent it – it’s OK to take a little break. Come back and try again another time. It obviously important to know your boundaries and step away if the thing is no longer bringing you joy or servicing your needs in some capacity.

That being said, we finished the course.

I believe the reason I was able to finish the course is because the three of us were encouraging each other along the way. Looking out for each other if we lost our balls. Cheering each other on if we made it on the fairway. Championing our good (and not so good) putts. The people you surround yourself with truly impact your view on the whole game.

Now…

In case you’re not getting it, this whole article is a metaphor for improv. As an improv teacher, I should have probably made that more obvious at the get go. Go back and read it again. Learning something new is hard. Get in the present moment and enjoy the journey. If you need a reminder, take 10 years off and then try again.