So I signed up for a “Performing Arts Workshop”
With the hopes of connecting with other like-minded people, to learn new things such as Latin dancing and choral singing.
But I was rudely awakened to the fact today that a small town will remain a small town, as much as it aims to disguise itself as a city, as much as I love it for my family and friends and memories.
Within 15 minutes, I was telling myself, I should have known.
When you have the emcee speaking in a shrill shrill voice in less-than-perfect English. Now, i am not judging the person for that cos, hey, who is to say whose English is perfect. I don’t speak perfect English and I slip into Manglish and gibberish ever so often.
So ok.
But it is NOT okay when there is poor awareness of the audience, it is NOT okay to answer a phone call WHILE you are speaking to the audience.
It is in even worse taste to tell the audience, aged between 6 - 50, that you are all VOLUNTEERS, that you are a NON-PROFIT ORGANISATION, that they should have signed up earlier and not last minute, that they have caused so much trouble, that they should be thanking their lucky stars that they are granted the places in the workshop, that your organisation has gone through so much to bring shows into Ipoh, that people should not be grumbling about ticket prices, about how expensive productions are, about 5 figure sums that are astronomical to the kids.
I was utterly horrified when money was constantly, consistently mentioned - about ticket prices, about generous sponsors and patrons, about making losses, about performing arts as an expensive business - a speech that was completely unprepared.
And you tell me that that is a good introduction to your organisation, a fitting start to a 3-day workshop aimed at young children and teenagers, to introduce them to the arts?
I walked away feeling completely patronised, as if I owe them a big big thank you for bringing culture into Ipoh.
That was not the end.
The last I recall, I am 25. I signed up for the workshop after asking them "There are going to be adults there right?" and receiving a response "Oh yeah, sure! In fact you are all going to be grouped according to your different age groups!"
So I happily sign up, thinking that I’d probably be amidst the aunties and the teachers, perhaps.
NO.
The adults were placed with the 6-8 year olds (The ‘Shirley Temple’ group, and the adults had the audacity to tell the children about the wonderful Shirley Temple who was so cute and so pretty and so talented and so so so so so FAMOUS - and is also dead).
The scenario: 31 kids aged 6-8. about 10 adults who were either the tai-tais of Ipoh who were there to mollycoddle their precious little darlings or the young ballet/music teacher. a disgruntled young adult who was hoping to join the workshop for some personal development (and to tear away from baking and excessive shopping).
I endured all the "hello boys and girls, how are you todays" until lunchtime. Putting on my biggest smile, I politely asked, ‘erm, would it be okay if I could switch to another group for tomorrow’s session? Like the older teenagers?’
‘why?’
‘Oh cos I am placed with the really young kids now and honestly, it’s more tailored for them and I think it’d be better for me if I joined another group where I can learn more.’
‘no, you can’t do that, you are all already grouped according to age groups.’
‘ah I see, but i am really not learning much cos it’s really more for the children.’
‘this is a JUNIOR programme and the adults who are here are the teachers who are learning different ways to teach their kids’ (hello no one told me this when I signed up)
‘ah okay, but what if I am just here for my own personal development? can’t I switch groups to learn things for myself?’
‘no, we can’t do that’
And then, what got me so peeved was that my my intelligence was completely insulted when the lady went on and on with a whole barrage of nonsense about how some of their trainers are veyr particular about the number of people they have in the group, about how each room can only accomodate x number of people, about how it’d be unfair for me to switch groups, yadayadayada.
With an obviously fake smile, I said, ‘fine. no worries.’
And of course I proceeded to bitch to my mom (and her friend).
I went through another two afternoon sessions with lil kiddy dance movement stuff and drama games (save me!). The kids loved it (and of course!) and I felt more like a babysitter in my group. In all fairness, these 3 days would serve as a good introduction to the performing arts for the kids, as they would get to learn a little of everything.
I decided to not attend the next two days’ sessions.
In case you were wondering, no it was not for free. I’d paid RM50 for the 3-day workshop. Not a whole lot of money considering their benevolence. I’ll just consider it my donation towards their oh-so-worthy cause, that they have saved us so much money, that we are only paying RM50 for tickets to the opera now and not RM250 if were to go to Istana Budaya.
Honestly, yes, this organisation has brought in some glimmer of hope for the arts in Ipoh and yes, many of us, as teenagers some years ago, were first exposed to the arts through them. But honestly, by going on and on about money, by being rigid about their ways, by advertising their respective teachers and dance schools, by praising their sponsors and patrons, by exhibiting less-than-professional stage presence - how are they really going to incite the love of the arts in the kids?
I could go on and on. But I won’t. Cos I have come to the realisation, that Ipoh is a fantastic place to retire in, to spend time with my family and friends in, to breathe in fresh air, to have some sort of a sense of belonging cos the society’s so small. But it is also a place that development somewhat forgot. I’d probably attended similar workshops in the past and had thoroughly enjoyed them, and maybe I’d overlooked the poor organisation (if any) back then.
Maybe I have just grown up and have seen (parts) of the world. I don’t mean to be patronising. I am just thoroughly miffed. And sad.
)
