The theater is a wooden stage where people appear. No, people come to interpret a play that they feel, something they want to depict, for example, friendship. In the end, people applaud, but they applaud two things: the sacrifice made by the artists to perform it well and the work of the person who wrote and created it.

Thus, a nine-year-old girl expressed it in 1976, one of my first theater students when I began teaching. If I asked one of my students today, I wouldn’t stray far from that definition. Another ten-year-old girl wrote: “A drama teacher is easily distinguished from other teachers because he is gentle and his lessons are very enjoyable. Also, he doesn’t assign many homework tasks, although he assigns a little. The class he gives us doesn’t feel like a lesson because it is very short.”

Before starting these first theater classes with children, I had a series of questions, to which I still seek answers today. These are questions that every professional (or not) in children’s and youth theater should periodically ask themselves, so as not to lose the essence of what they do.