Charlotte’s Web by Joseph Robinette marked my directorial debut, produced as the annual youth production at High Springs Playhouse during their 25th anniversary season. To celebrate the milestone, the company revived beloved shows from previous years, including a remount of Charlotte’s Web from their 2009 season.

From the moment I read the script, I became fascinated by its potential for physical storytelling. The pacing and whimsy of the show lent themselves to constant movement, and I was excited to explore how we could elevate the text through the human body. With the support of my co-director, Taylor, we approached rehearsals collaboratively: Taylor would take the “humans” through text work, improv games like “Walk as if,” and a large dance sequence she choreographed, while I worked with the “animals” on physical embodiment.

Without planning to, I fell into Animal Work. I asked the young actors to research the creatures they portrayed and take a moment to fully embody them—considering weight, tempo, and flow—before slowly rising to a standing position. I encouraged them to experiment with exaggerated cartoon voices, promising that Taylor and I would help rein them in if needed. To my delight, this freedom sparked incredible creativity. The actors began to ask if they could add little bits of physical comedy or musical flair to enhance their scenes. We said yes—so Wilbur began doing a full cheer routine during his escape scene, Charlotte performed a little dance each time she spun a word into the web, and the Gander? He rapped.

As a director, especially in youth theatre, I strive to create a rehearsal room where bold choices and joyful play are celebrated. I meet young actors with humor and curiosity, encouraging them to take ownership of their characters and the world we’re building together. This group took that to heart: they spent countless hours researching, fundraising, rehearsing, and developing their characters with real pride. So on opening night, instead of wearing the elegant dresses we had envisioned, Taylor and I surprised the cast by showing up in animal onesies. To this day, the kids still talk about how special that made them feel.

Even with a large cast, I made individualized attention a priority, often splitting into smaller groups to give everyone time and space to grow. That show taught me that joy and rigor are not opposites in the rehearsal room—they're partners. And that’s the kind of room I will always strive to create.