What Theatre Did for My Kid (And Why It Still Makes Me Cry a Little)

I've been sharing a lot lately about what theatre does for kids. And I mean a lot — because I've watched over 500 students come through my programs over the years, and I have seen things. I've seen the quiet kid who barely whispered their name in September belting out a solo by June. I've seen the kid who couldn't make eye contact become the one who commands the whole room. I've seen friendships form that I genuinely believe will last decades.

I know theatre works. I've lived it as a teacher. And I lived it as a kid.

But recently I've been thinking about the person whose journey I've watched the most closely of all. My son.

It Started With Me

Before I tell you about him, I need to tell you about me — because honestly, his story and my story are more connected than I even realized until I sat down to write this.

I was a kid who was big. Loud. Constantly on the go, full of energy, full of feelings, and not always sure where to put it all. I was the kid who bounced off walls in a way that didn't always go over well in traditional classroom settings. I needed somewhere that matched me — somewhere that said yes to all of it instead of asking me to turn it down.

Theatre was that place.

The stage didn't just tolerate my energy — it wanted it. I found an outlet that felt safe in a way not many things did. I got to become characters, explore emotions, make bold choices, and be completely, fully myself — and have people cheer for it. I found my people. Genuinely, some of my closest friendships are with people I met through theatre nearly 30 years ago. And I found joy in listening, in learning, in the craft of storytelling that I didn't even know I was capable of.

Theatre shaped who I am. And it planted a seed that eventually grew into CSK and everything I do today. So when I tell you theatre changes lives? I'm not saying it from a brochure. I'm saying it because I am the proof.

He Was Born For the Stage (Literally)

My son started in my programs when he was around three years old. Three! And right from the beginning, he was in. There's a moment I come back to all the time — we were doing "Hakuna Matata" as a class number, full little-kid chaos, and most of the three-year-olds did what three-year-olds do: looked at their shoes, picked their nose, forgot every single word.

But not him.

I was sining the Pumbaa part to the song to help the little performers, and he stepped right up and took on the Timon parts — singing every single lyric, committed, joyful, fully present. At three years old. I was standing there watching my tiny human just own a challenging role and honestly? I was done for.

That was who he was from the beginning — someone who saw a fun role, even if it was hard and leaned in instead of backing away. He took on a challenge and saw the fun in it.

When Things Got Hard

Around age seven, things got really difficult at school. He had those same big emotions I had as a kid — full of energy, full of feelings — and unfortunately, some kids were not kind to him. He was bullied. Badly enough that I was in the principal's office multiple times a week. The answer I kept getting was some version of "hopefully next year will be better."

It was a really hard time. For both of us, honestly.

But through all of it, he kept coming to theatre. He joined my full musical programs. He kept getting up on stage, becoming characters, playing and learning and figuring out who he was.

Theatre didn't fix what was happening at school. But it gave him something those hard years couldn't take away — a place where he belonged, where he was good, where he could be fully himself and it was celebrated.

That matters more than I can put into words. When every other part of your world feels unsure having one place that is solid and joyful and yours... it keeps you

going.

The Kid He Became

He eventually moved to a new school, and something shifted. The confidence he'd been building in rehearsal rooms started showing up everywhere else too. He stepped up in classroom presentations. He made real, genuine friendships. He became someone other kids looked up to when they saw him on stage.

And at the end of his first year at the new school, he stood up in front of the entire school at the talent show... and sang a solo.

The whole school cheered for him. Like clapping along cheered for him.

I'm not crying, you're crying. (Okay, I'm absolutely crying. 🥹)

Where He Is Now

That little three-year-old who stepped up to sing Timon while I played Pumbaa? He now helps me teach in my CSK classes. He's co-oping at a school. He's is working at an inclusive day camp. And he is one of the most empathetic, capable, genuinely good people I know.

Theatre didn't just give him a hobby. It gave him a foundation. The skills to listen, to connect, to be brave in front of people, and to show up for others. It gave him his people. And it gave him the confidence to walk into hard situations knowing he could handle them.

That's what I mean when I say theatre is life-changing. Not in a marketing way. In a my-kid-stood-up-on-stage-and-the-whole-school-cheered way.

Why I Do What I Do

Here's the thing — my son had me. He had access to theatre because I am theatre. But I think about all the kids out there who are just like him. Big energy. Big feelings. A little lost. Desperately needing a safe space to become who they're meant to be.

Not every kid lives near a program. Not every family has the time or budget for in-person classes. And that's exactly why I created programs that kids can do from anywhere — even from home. Because every single child deserves this opportunity. Every kid deserves a place where they belong, where their energy is celebrated, where they get to discover what they're capable of.

That kid who's bouncing off the walls? The one who doesn't quite fit in? The one who needs an outlet and just hasn't found it yet?

Theatre might be exactly what they've been waiting for. It was for me. It was for my son.

Maybe it's for yours too. 💛

The Compliment That Got Me

A few years ago, a parent stopped me after a show. Her two kids had been in my programs for years, but her son had recently moved on to other hobbies — which is totally okay, that's life! She came to the show with both her kids, and she looked at me and said simply: "Tell your son thank you."

Her son had watched mine up on that stage and was just… amazed. Amazed that he was still doing it. Still showing up. Still performing with everything he had.

That moment hit me harder than I expected.

Because my son isn't just a performer anymore — he's a mentor. Especially for young boys who might be on the fence about whether theatre is "for them." He is living proof that it is. That you can be a boy with big energy who loves sports and friends and all the things AND still belong on a stage. That theatre doesn't ask you to be anything other than exactly who you are.

And he shows up for the program in more ways than just teaching. There have been moments when a cast member was sick right before a show — and without missing a beat, he stepped in with the younger group to make sure the show went on. Fully committed. Every word, every move. Not unlike a certain three-year-old who once jumped in to sing all of Timon's parts without being asked.

Some things don't change.

If you're ready to bring that kind of joy into your home, I'd love to have your family join us! Check out our at-home and online programs at centrestagekids.ca — including the Homeschool Theatre Toolkit, designed for families who want to do something real, creative, and meaningful together, wherever you are.

P.S. Got a kid who's never tried theatre but has all the energy? That's exactly who I made these programs for. Come find us — we've been waiting for them.