My family stopped caring

My family stopped caring.

My parents — who never missed an open house night, never overlooked a progress report, made sure to go to every piano recital and community theater show I ever had — they stopped caring about what I did in drama.

After a couple of years, they seemed to understand that the program was simply not going to be anything at all, and they checked out.

They weren't upset. They weren't demanding answers or wondering why I had nothing to share from school anymore. They just knew there was nothing to ask about. Jared wasn't pursuing a passion anymore, he was just taking a silly elective to round out an academic schedule. They moved on.

At the same time, my sister studied painting at a high school that valued and respected art. Every piece she made or show she was featured in was front-page news in our house, and rightfully so. My parents knew her teachers and classmates. They happily engaged in extracurricular activities, trips, and scholarship opportunities for her. It wasn't like they were checked out in general; they cared when it made sense to do so.

As a teenager, I didn't blame them. I was at an age when I preferred to be left alone and not interrogated about anything, least of all the embarrassment of my drama program. Now I look back on the whole thing with sadness.

The entire situation was also true for my grandparents. Growing up, they were my cheerleaders. My grandma in particular was so deeply interested in all of my hobbies and activities that she offered to pay for lessons or materials for me without my bringing it up. She asked about everything I was involved in, and when I slacked off, she noticed.

With Coral Reef Drama, she just... didn't. There was nothing obviously off about this, either. She saw our first couple of performances and, like my parents, just seemed to intrinsically understand that this was very unserious, and not worthy of her time. Instead, she would ask me about my writing or my piano playing, as if to subtly steer me toward those interests. Theater and acting were almost never brought up.

The rest of my family followed suit. They asked about academics, AP classes, friends, or dating, but never the magnet program for which I went to the school.

Of course, a skeptical reader might think that maybe I was the problem. My sister was and is an art prodigy, so of course her career would draw attention. Maybe I was just bad at theater, or average, or otherwise so uninterested or aloof that they knew better than to ask about it. To that I say... well, they wouldn't have known that, because there was never an occasion for them to find that out! I never had an example of a complete work by which to be judged — only showcases or other “joke” performances.

There were a multitude of reasons why I stopped wanting to be an actor over those four years, but my family's subtle turning away from the drama program was a deeply influential one. When it came to my grades, my homework, or my other interests, they stayed invested. With drama, they went silent. And that silence spoke volumes.  ❒

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