Edmund Stapleton

I’m sitting in the basement green room of the Royal George discussing theatre with a senior actor. As our conversation ends they say, “Have you ever thought about directing? I think you’d make a great director.” Some people might find this flattering, that they possess the tools to lead an entire team, but I take it as an insult. “You think I’m not a good enough actor, is that it?” I think as I get ready to go onstage. 

I swear I’ll never be a director.

Years later, I’m in the graduate student office at the University of Alberta where I’m pursuing an MFA in Directing discussing theatre with another grad student. “Would you want to do a PhD after this? I think that would suit you,” they say. Some people might find this flattering, that they possess the intellectual rigour for such a program, but I take it as an afront to my bourgeoning directing career. “You think I can’t direct, is that it?” I think as I head off to rehearsal. 

I swear I’ll never do a PhD.

This fall I start the PhD program here at the Centre for Drama, Theatre & Performance Studies. I’m sure I’ll have many discussions, and not just about theatre, but about my work at the University of Waterloo where I teach theatre and storytelling tools to non-theatre students, about my passion (my wife would say obsession) with Arsenal Football Club, about the challenges and joys of martial arts (I just received my green belt in Wado Ryu Karate), and of course about my main focus, exploring how the latest advances in sports science can be used for elite actor training. Someone is bound to offer a word or two that I take the wrong way. “What an idiot,” I might think. “They don’t understand at all.”

I just hope it doesn’t take me years this time to realize that they are right.*

*except, of course, the attempt to convince me that Arsenal aren’t the greatest club to support. COYG.