When I was in the third grade, I played a foot in our school play. Like, a literal foot. And I have a lot of questions about this.
Mainly, what was this play even about? What was the plot? Was it suspenseful or comedic? I genuinely can’t remember, and I hate myself for it. It was written by one of the (more eccentric) third grade teachers, but I wasn’t smart enough to save the script with my lines in it that I had to memorize. Yes, that’s right. I HAD LINES. As a FOOT. And not even just one line, but way too many. We spent weeks preparing for this play, and I can just imagine myself standing in front of the mirror at home practicing what could only have been very deep, reflective dialogue that I would later say in front of confused-looking parents as I wore a giant painted foam foot on top of my head.
Maybe you’re wondering which “characters” the other students played. Was it just a collection of feet children onstage? Were all of the other appendages present? And I really wish I could tell you. I know there was a hand and an ear, but that’s all I’ve got. Which brings me to another important question: did I try out for the role of “Foot”? Like, was this something I was striving for? Did I go home and tell my mother, “I hope I get to play the foot! What a dream that would be!” Or did my teacher just decide, “you know, I think Emily would make a perfect Foot” and that was that. I don’t know which is worse.
I blame my family for this lapse in foot memories. They must have known I’d want to remember this when I was older. Watch a video of myself speaking, all foot-like. Probably even reenact it at home. But no, all I have is one picture, taken next to the men’s restroom.
While I’m still not sure whether this was a net positive or negative for me, it did provide me with an Instagram caption I’m quite proud of.
I hope my children ask me how my third grade acting career went so I can tell them it started off on the wrong foot.
Memoirable Moments 