Tribe of Fools presents 'School Play'

Brennan plays his fourth-grade self in a classroom defined by a child-size school chair with attached desk. He performs in St. Peter's cheerful open theater space but away from the stage, making us part of his world. The 30-seat space later transforms into the school cafeteria and, finally, detention.

Charlie Brown's hyper cousin

Charles Schulz could have fit Brennan into his Peanuts gang. The character is smart beyond his years, like Charlie Brown's friends, and hapless, like C.B. himself, wide-eyed with wonder at a perplexing world. His teacher, like Charlie's, isn't seen; we learn what Miss Jackson says from Brennan's replies, while sound designer Kyle Yackoski provides the sound of chalk on blackboard, as if she's lecturing and writing nonstop.

Brennan, however, can't force his mind or body into the required passive learning style. Dressed in red high-tops, red-and-white striped socks, tan shorts, red hoodie, and a backward red Phillies cap, he looks like an overgrown kid. We can see thoughts racing through his head despite his efforts to "keep it inside," "stop asking silly questions," and "settle down." Every few seconds, his hand shoots up so high he grunts from the strain of needing attention and answers.

As befits Tribe of Fools, Brennan's fourth-grader is especially physical. Presenting a history report about parkour, he demonstrates the French sport of running and jumping. We hear his whispered conversations with nemesis Norman and crush Emily. We feel the suspense of his stealthy effort to retrieve a pencil that's flown across the room, vaulted by his twitchy fingers. We remember the squirming maneuvers required to sit comfortably in a hard chair for long periods and having seemingly great ideas such as juggling garbage. Then there's his boldest move: balancing on the back legs of his chair, arms and legs extended, without falling backward. Can he do it? Will he get caught?

More than nostalgia

While chuckling along to shared child memories could provide an hour's entertainment, School Play aspires to more. Brennan has an active, curious mind. He wants to learn, but his unchecked spontaneity disrupts the relatively compliant class. A fortune-teller — those wonderful, child-made interactive origami inventions — serves as society's judgmental voice. "Your body learns the wrong way," it tells him. "How will you ever get into college?" Each day pounds Brennan's joyful curiosity into sullen submission.

That this fourth-grader, though on a collision course with mainstream education, grows up to be dynamic actor and artistic director Terry Brennan is a happy ending in itself. The play's last moment, however, feels more foreboding. Without directly commenting on standard American education, School Play reveals the system's tragic shortcomings.