MISS hits the mark as both silly school comedy and as an abrupt lesson on the acute strain on modern teachers.Summary
Rating
Excellent
What kind of a pupil were you? A swot, slacker, joker or sycophant? Whichever type, it’s likely Meg Coslett will see straight through you as she writes and performs as the eponymous teacher in this latest instalment of the Camden Fringe at the punchy Lion & Unicorn Theatre. As the audience follows a day in the teaching life of ‘Miss’, Coslett will deliver shocking, often hilarious and cutting asides that she could never say directly to her charges or colleagues.
Much of the action is sketch-like farce; imagine sex education lessons, school trips, the awkwardness of the teacher’s lounge or the over-eagerness of young pupils keen to impress. It’s a ripe playground for comedy with James Coward (shout out to ‘Auntie Trace’) and Joe Sefton rotating through a cast of well-observed types of students and teachers. Georgia Maguire is the third member of the supporting performers, all of whom also contributed to the creation of the piece, with her most effective characters being the more earnest ones.
The play, which seems like outright comedy for the first half an hour or so, skewers the laughter and palpable goodwill in the room by also examining the darker side of being ‘the adult in the room’. To really pull you up, Coslett confrontationally announces that someone in this room, casting her eye around it, is bound to have said the phrase ‘those who can’t, teach’. We see her teach vulnerable children ranging from those with special needs, self-abusers and a county lines drug trafficking victim. It is startlingly effective following a great deal of character comedy. There is a very sober plea about the difficulties of a profession that increasingly leans on the passions of the individual to keep them in the job despite the ever present threats of burnout and resignation. All of this in an hour. Some of the dialogue, within perhaps just a few minutes, can say as much about some subjects than you feel whole plays sometimes labour to portray in their entirety. The economy of language is impressive.
Coslett does occasionally slip up but she is in constant motion, either performing in monologue or dropping into scenes with the rest of the cast. Surprisingly, she also engages in some repartee with a lively audience (clearly some teachers in). Despite a large amount of direct address, it is not typically interactive. It does however show her confidence in reading the assembly and riding the energy. There are unfortunately moments that don’t land as well and can flatten a burgeoning atmosphere. The general spirit though is high and makes the social commentary and paean of a monologue towards the very end all the more powerful as the black box space falls eerily silent and solemn. She plays with your various emotional responses, drawing you in with a lot of joy, only to slap you with some home truths. The manipulation and the balance required to pull off both is the most impressive impression left by the night.
With disarming sincerity and authenticity MISS will truly school you into respecting the intense and overwhelming pressures of the teaching profession in a manner you’re unlikely to forget in a hurry.
Written and performed by: Meg Coslett
Directed by: Phoebe Rowell John
Associate Producer: Amanda Hart
MISS plays at Lion and Unicorn Theatre until Saturday 9 August as part of Camden Fringe.