

It was the last day of classes this past June, and I hadn’t felt this level of anxiety since my initial job interview at Moses Brown School 10 years ago. With my heart beating out of my chest, I nervously sipped water and mumbled to myself between repeated trips to the bathroom. I turned around to smile at my wife, who had left work early to attend the middle school talent show.

In February, in a fit of inspired bravado, I had emailed my teaching partner and fellow history nerd, Graham Holland, and our school’s drama teacher, Steve Kidd, about staging a surprise performance at the talent show. The three of us, it turned out, shared a mutual love for and deep obsession with the musical Hamilton, and I had suggested we try out the rap battle scenes. Graham and I both teach seventh-grade American history and had spent the whole year working Hamilton references into our classes and conversations. It felt like a fitting, thrilling way to end the school year.

It would also be the first time I’d ever performed a musical number outside of my car or the shower. I am not a comfortable performer even though I spend all day on a “stage,” and my nerves had been mounting all week. I was shaking with anxiety as the student performers offered their songs and dances. And then it was our turn.

Steve stood first, riffing on the fact that, in spite of its popularity, no songs from Hamilton had been performed at the talent show. Meanwhile, three of our colleagues set up their instruments. As the trio began laying down the recognizable beat of “Cabinet Battle #1,” Steve made his transition into George Washington, and Graham and I donned our Colonial-era coats and took the stage as Thomas Jefferson and Alexander Hamilton, respectively. Those students in the “Ham fam” realized what was about to happen, and those who didn’t know the musical teetered with uncertain excitement.

Graham (Jefferson), tall, stately and confident, dominated the stage, rhyming about the founding principles of our republic and the dangers of Hamilton’s financial plan with enviable ease. I thought my heart might fall out of my chest as Steve (Washington) handed me the floor. I took a deep breath, did some weird pivot dance move that I had never seen myself do and began rapping—loudly, aggressively, brashly—in front of a crowd of some 200 screaming students and adults. My chosen verses addressed the necessity of uniting the newly liberated Colonies around a plan to relieve the country’s debt, calling out the South’s reliance on slavery.

We worked our way through the two numbers, trading barbs and rapping excitedly about the dangers of too much capitalism and the perils of aiding the French in their post-revolutionary war with Britain. And then, just like that, it was over. The applause was raucous, especially as we punctuated our performance with a Cam Newton-inspired “dab.”

For me, it was a highlight of the year. This was a major stretch for me, and it was a reminder of how important it is to cultivate a culture of risk taking and boundary pushing in any learning environment. That anxious, heart-beating-out-of-my-chest feeling happens to our students all the time, and it was the encouragement of my peers and the thrill of trying something new that pushed me to rise up to the experience. For students, modeling that behavior can be inspiring. They need to see us pushing ourselves, embracing productive discomfort and exploring new activities.

Another aspect of this experience that I hadn’t expected was that we needed to practice! Everyone else in our ensemble is a seasoned performer and knew that we needed rehearsals to get our timing, staging and flow down. I thought it would be enough just to know the words, but the process of rehearsing (in secret) and fine-tuning reminded me of the importance of careful planning. I was ready to try this new experience because I had prepared, which is another great lesson for students.

Most important, however, was that in spite of my nerves and the rehearsing, it was fun. It was the kind of energetic fun often missing from school. Hamilton—with its incredible artistic, intellectual and story-telling qualities—is a great vehicle for students to learn about the past. And I know how important it is for our students to see us, as educators, enjoying ourselves, laughing with our colleagues and genuinely bringing our whole selves into our work. We get only so many chances to make a positive impression on our students; don’t throw away your shot!

Gold is a seventh- and eighth-grade history teacher at Moses Brown School in Providence, Rhode Island. You can reach him on Twitter @jonathansgold.