Who's who now?

We created a new student group to lead and support the technical and support areas of our little theatre program.

We called it the Committee of Seven for no reason in particular. I guess we just thought it was funny. And it sounded kind of secretive and ominous. We are creating a logo with the help of the art department. I had drafted a simple idea with the letter /c/ and the number /7/ intertwined in such a way that it looks rather like the letter /G/. I thought it seemed a little cryptic and played into our initial concept of the organization. My colleague immediately said, "Oh, just like the Fantastic Four logo." my heart sunk a little. I had to concede his point, of course, but asked him to make sure it wasn't too much like this other copyrighted material.

We joke about the Committee of Seven being our secret theatre society. The first rule of the Committee of Seven is that no one talks about the Committee of Seven, we sometimes joke aloud. We have announced meetings by saying that there is NOT a meeting on this time and NOT on this day. The announcement works because more people ask about it and we always tell them the whole story. Our bylaws of course strictly forbid secrecy and require that all our meetings and decisions are public and open to any interested person. The whole point of the committee is to give students a more active role (and voice) in the process of creating theatre. And to recruit more and new students to our activities. It's not a secret . . . it's just not very well known. Yet.

Or is it?

I was told today that we are not alone. Apparently there is some book out there in which a private boarding school is secretly run by a small group of students who call themselves . . . wait for it . . . yes, that's right . . . the Committee of Seven! Maybe they have a better reason for naming themselves this -- or any reason at all, perhaps. To me, sharing this name is funny and disapointing all at the same time. I laughed a long time about it and then sighed. Dang. I guess we'll just have to share our name, if not our mission, with these fictional students in a book I've never heard of.

In the meantime, we elected officers, planned our first meeting with the stage crew, and brinstormed ways to recruit designers and crews. You might hear about us later . . . . but it won't be for secretly running the school.