Recently, my high school students and I engaged in lengthy discussions about what our “acts” would be if we were to compete in a talent contest. About 50 percent, me included, could not come up with anything performance worthy. We don’t sing or dance, at least not well, nor do any of us play a musical instrument other than the recorder at the fifth-grade level. What can we do? This is important, people!
There were of course some lame options tossed around – learning the “Napolean Dynamite” routine and lip syncing being the most popular. But these had been done before and were not going to win us the crown. We needed a wow factor! So, we explored potential “skills” that we could acquire. Juggling, magic, baton twirling, yo-yo-ing, even speed painting, were all considered legitimate possibilities.
Are these even “talents,” though? We circled back to everyone’s natural gifts. One kid is a master at decorating desserts. Another is a Hollywood-bound stylist. Two are varsity basketball players, and several are elite swimmers. Soon, we were brainstorming creative ways to highlight these. “Could you ice a three-tier sponge while grooving to Maroon 5’s ‘Sugar’?” “What might it look like if you gave a random audience member an impromptu makeover?” “Can we bring a pool on stage?”
I began thinking about myself again. What am I good at? I’m a pretty decent mom, I’m amazing at getting strangers to reveal their darkest secrets, and I’ve been told I write a solid observational humor column. That’s it! My act will be penning a 275-word piece on talent shows in less than 15 minutes. You’re welcome.
Peace out.
