I taught and worked as an administrator in secondary school arts for almost a decade, and to be honest I probably didn’t encounter more than a handful of true Stage Mothers or Fathers in all that time. But those I did come across were utterly terrifying. They are basically the same creature as the parent that screams at their kid from the bleachers — living vicariously, losing touch with the real stakes of a situation, injecting themselves into all situations regardless of how inappropriate it may be. Scary.

Okay, I’m worried I might be becoming that.

With sports, it has always been pretty easy for me to be hands off, to enjoy my role as spectator, to be delighted when they do well and to console them when they are disappointed. I’m worried that with the drama stuff, it may be different.

I have a friend from my days as a playwright who is now a casting agent. When I was working at the school, she would send me casting calls from time to time for films that were looking for teenaged actors. I sent kids out on auditions, and a couple even landed gigs.

I must still be on her distribution list because last week she sent me this:

“Hi Friends,

I am casting some extras for some additional shooting for the film THE
TREE OF LIFE directed by Terrence Malick. In particular, I am looking
for:

*A small group of boys age 10-12, slender and between 5′0″-5′3″, to
portray students in a 1950s school. Athletic boys are ideal. No
braces, no tattoos, no colored or treated hair. Boys who are cast will
receive a period haircut.
*1 Teacher, male, age 50-60, lean, clean-shaven

SHOOT DATES: 2 days, March 14 and 15
LOCATION: Austin
PAY: $75/day. Extras will also attend a fitting prior to the shoot day.”

Couple things.

First, Terry Malick is a legend, and also happens to be a graduate of the school where I used to work. I would kill to get a peek at one of his sets.

Second, my oldest son meets all the casting criterion and his Spring Break coincides with the shooting schedule.

So the wheels slowly begin to turn. While my kids appear on DadLabs from time to time, I’m generally turned off by the whole idea of child model/actor. Miley Cyrus makes me sad. I’m not dragging my kids to see any rip-off artist “agents” or buying them overpriced headshots or sitting for endless hours outside hotel rooms waiting for smug casting directors. Blech.

But a chance to be an extra in a Terry Malick movie? (I know, I know — it’ll be second unit and we won’t get within two thousand miles of the actual director. Whatever.) I felt an agenda for my kid brewing inside me. I know this is not a good thing. But I rationalize. It’ll be fun! (Right, sitting around for six hours, holding still, what fun.) It’s healthy for kids to understand how media is made! (Like he hasn’t already gotten this lesson in his life.) It’ll be an adventure for the two of us! (Why not just go for a hike?)

So I’m a film geek, recovering drama teacher, web video loon — and now I’m folding all of these into Stage Dad. But before I reply to my friend the casting director, I do know that I have to ask Bubba. And that despite my own enthusiasm, I should appear neutral about his decision, and be prepared to red light the whole deal if he seems hesitant about it.

Which I think I managed pretty well.

I also “accidently” mentioned the pay to him. Which pretty much sealed the deal.

So, neutrality dispensed with, I created a photo portfolio and sent it off for consideration within five minutes of our conversation.

So now we…er I wait to hear if he’s been cast. One good thing: if he does get the gig — he doesn’t need an agent. I’ll take care of that. And I wonder how quickly I can become 50-60, lean and clean-shaven.