In Darryl Stamp’s Dumbed Down, Isaiah (played by Chad Brown) cares little for literature, especially by white authors. However, he says, “I did kinda liked that Poe dude, because he wrote some dark stuff. I mean that eyeball did sound nasty looking in that one story, but dude snitched on hisself! That was so stupid! And when they accused that brotha with the shriveled-up arm of raping that white girl, I was like, wow, that shit is messed up. I was all like, ‘Bro! Don’t be goin up in there messin with that white girl!’ That story grabbed my attention for real before I got mad.”
But Isaiah can effortlessly lift a character or a quote from a film to express a relevant meaning: for instance, Mr. Miyagi from The Karate Kid, Travis Bickle from Taxi Driver, Frank Lucas from American Gangster or Fredo Corleone in The Godfather II.
Isaiah justifiably feels that Woodrow Wilson High School has abandoned him. “I stopped goin’ after they tried hanging that I.E.P. behavior tag on me,” he says. “They said that I couldn’t focus. I can focus! I just didn’t want to for dumb shit. I would have read more if it was interesting, but I make more money out here.” He attempts his best impression of Jaime Escalante Gutierrez, the math teacher who was the subject of Stand and Deliver: “They’re not stupid, they just don’t know anything.”
Directed by Jerry Rapier, Dumbed Down’s world premiere at Plan-B Theatre is exceptionally good. Regarding this perennially gutsy independent theater company, original plays written by Utahns have always pitched and raised the bar of artistic excellence. Not since Carleton Bluford’s The Clean-Up Project (which was honored by The Utah Review as the top moment of the Utah Enlightenment for 2022) has a new Plan-B Theatre play such as Dumbed Down hit an audience member’s soul and conscience with this magnitude of unforgettable impact.
As detailed in the recent preview published at The Utah Review, Stamp’s heart and soul from his experiences as a high school teacher found their way into his script for Dumbed Down, unequivocally his best work to date. Tightly written and paced, the play ensures we have no time to prejudge any element.
The actors across the board make for a stellar chamber theater ensemble: Danor Gerald as Kevin Simon, Jacob Barnes as Malcolm Thomas (and smaller roles as the principal and a correctional officer), Alex Smith as Craig Wilson and Chad Brown as Isaiah Rogers. Running just a shade over an hour, the play doesn’t overwhelm an audience’s senses. Meanwhile, Stamp is eminently concise that he never lets sentimentality overshadow the hardened stakes underlying the story arcs in the characters of the teacher and three students.
Kevin Simon, an African-American English teacher at Woodrow Wilson High School, knows first-hand the systemic challenges his students (Malcolm and Craig) face and the potential with a mentor who understands them and knows how to open the doors to knowledge. There also is Isaiah, a former student who is a few years older than Malcolm and Craig. Finally, a beleaguered school principal acknowledges Simon’s mission calling for relevant educational experiences, not discipline or testing, to be emphasized and prioritized.
Near the end of the play, Craig and Isaiah are in the same prison cell, sharing stories about Simon. Craig says, “You don’t see too many brothas that teach, especially English teacher brothas.” Isaiah replies, “For real, that’s like seeing a Black unicorn.” Craig answers back, “I know right? Dude was trying to tell us what’s up.” Isaiah adds, “But as soon as you get used to one of them, here comes another one. It’s like foster care in reverse.”
As Stamp recalled in his interview with The Utah Review, he was tempted to walk away at one point from teaching. The parallel of his epiphany he draws to Simon in the play comes through clear as day in Gerald’s performance. Of course, Craig, Isaiah and Malcolm know all too well the promise of school as society’s great equalizer is unattainable, particularly when they do not see themselves reflected in the teacher standing in front of them. They can sense Simon’s powerful and brilliant presence.
There is a striking meta dynamic operating here in the play and the facts of its provenance. The mantra proclaiming, “representation matters,” cannot be just symbolic. Like Stamp, Simon takes the obligation seriously to give back and become what his most impactful teachers had become for him.
Undaunted, Simon actually achieves small victories with Malcolm, Craig and Isaiah, who despite their resistance glimpse the realities that literacy and a love of reading can be acts of liberation. Simon is not just teaching his students for grades or standardized test scores. His mere presence animates the historical importance of a resistance borne from the fact that generations of their families and ancestors were persistently denied access to read and learn. Aware of the significance for impact, Simon knows that he likely is the first (and perhaps only) Black male teacher his students have seen or will ever see. The performances of the Dumbed Down cast elucidate all of these elements.
Yet, as his students might be drawn to him, their skepticism is never far away. How can they be sure that he really understands their circumstances? Dumbed Down instinctively acknowledges this.
This week, as many reflect upon the life of Rev. Jesse Jackson who died at the age of 84, it is worth remembering Jackson’s speech at the 1998 Democratic Party national convention— among the best political speeches delivered within the last 40 years. Jackson said, “I understand. You see me on TV, but you don’t know the me that makes me, me. They wonder, ‘Why does Jesse run?’ because they see me running for the White House. They don’t see the house I’m running from.”
As he recounts his own formative story, Jackson says, “I understand. I know abandonment, and people being mean to you, and saying you’re nothing and nobody and can never be anything.” In Dumbed Down, there are hopeful signs that the students feel that they can trust Simon because they can identify with him. His teaching style invites the affirming vibe of belonging culturally in the classroom. Despite the grim setbacks along with others who already have written off these young men, Simon’s hopeful belief is steadfast. He refuses to underestimate their potential. The fundamental challenge Jackson spoke of in 1988 has grown more turbulent today. Perfectly timed as with so many other Plan-B plays, Dumbed Down shows us that a classroom is an ideal space for resistance, affirmation, transformation and liberation.
Performances continue through March 1 in the Studio Theatre at the Rose Wagner Center for Performing Arts. For tickets and more information, see the Plan-B Theatre website.