Confessions of a (Former) Forward Slash Clea Sanders knows there are no small parts, only small actors. It was the spring of 2010. ‘Dynamite’ by Taio Cruz was on every kid’s iPod nano, lunchtime handball games were more competitive than most Olympic sports, and Smiggle electric sharpeners had just been banned at my school. There was a buzz in the air; partly because Healthy Harold had just visited and told us all what drugs were, and partly because our class was about to start rehearsals for our Year Six assembly item (AKA our Superbowl). I felt quietly confident about my chances of securing a role large enough to get me out of class for the next few weeks. Throughout my primary school career, I’d already amassed a
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series of acting credits that were impressive in their diversity, if little else. My resumé included Cinderella’s Fairy Godmother, Pirate #3, Endangered Animal Poacher, and Narrator (the role assigned by default to the students with the most advanced reading level and least advanced social skills). This assembly, however, was the big leagues. Our teacher informed us that we were going to perform an original piece, much more cerebral than the derivative fairytale adaptations of years past. Punctuation Smart would be a gritty, atmospheric deep-dive into the inner lives of punctuation marks (plus it all rhymed, so the lines would be easy for us to remember).
Lots of words rhyme with ‘slash’. My favourites: unabashed balderdash
