What Happens When Boys Say No to Theater (And Then Change Their Minds)
Theater Comes to Life in Virginia’s Residential School for Young Men
Caroline Doyle came to Boys Home of Virginia to teach math and build something: a theater program for a school where the culture revolves around sports, video games, and a healthy skepticism of anything that feels unfamiliar.
She knew going in that it wasn’t going to be easy.
“They’re all really funny,” she says. “They all try to be the funny one in the math classroom. I figured I could use that to my benefit.”
That instinct — meet students where they already are, not where you wish they were — became the foundation for a week-long theater workshop that Caroline developed as part of her master’s research at Randolph College in Lynchburg, Virginia, under the guidance of her advisor and program director, Margaret Schindler.
What happened during that week was more than she expected, and it ended up changing how a lot of students at Boys Home think about what they’re capable of.
Starting with Seven
Boys Home operates on a Mini Master schedule twice a year, a week-long pause from regular academic classes where students participate in alternative morning activities, including debate, podcasts, or, in this case, theater. Caroline recruited about seven students for the fall workshop, which she describes as a pretty strong number given the size of the student population.
She started with physical warm-ups, getting students comfortable just existing in their bodies without performing or being evaluated.
One daily exercise had students walking through the space as if it were filled with peanut butter. Loose, a little silly, and low-stakes enough that nobody felt exposed. The goal was simple: make it safe to look a little foolish before anything else could happen.
Then came the improv games.
The “bus stop game” was the turning point. Two students at a time, one trying to convince the other to leave the bus stop without a script, no safety net. One student got up, committed completely, and the room lost it. Everybody laughed. And as soon as that happened, everybody else wanted a turn.
“When they saw they could make people laugh,” Caroline says, “everything shifted.”
Making it About Them
After the warm-ups and improv, Caroline asked students to write a short scene about a real problem in their lives. She gave them space to talk among themselves and deliberately stepped back, not wanting to hover or make the exercise feel like an assignment being monitored.
What came out of those conversations surprised her. Students started opening up about their actual experiences living at Boys Home. What felt hard, who felt safe, and how they related to each other. Caroline describes the room going somewhere she hadn’t planned for and being relieved when, instead of shutting down, the students leaned into it with real curiosity and honesty.
The scene they ultimately wrote was about something that happens every open gym: the volleyball players getting crowded out by the basketball players. It sounds simple, but for the students, it meant something. It was their world, their frustration, told in their own words.
“It was easier to talk through a label,” Caroline says, “instead of talking at labels.”
The Performance
By the end of the week, the workshop had grown beyond its original scope. The scenes got good enough that Caroline added open scenes — two-person scripts with no context, where students had to invent the backstory — and invited the whole campus to watch the final performance on Friday.
Three variations of the same open script. Their original volleyball-and-basketball scene. And an audience that laughed and clapped like a real crowd.
The students who went first came backstage after their scene and said they wanted to keep going.
Research on theater education backs up what Caroline observed. Studies consistently show that drama participation builds confidence, improves communication skills, and helps young people develop empathy and emotional regulation. For students who arrive at Boys Home carrying complicated histories and a lot of protective walls, having a space to practice being seen — and being safe while doing it — turns out to matter a great deal.
What Came After
A month after the Mini Master workshop, Caroline took the group to a regional theater production of The Play That Goes Wrong, a comedy. Before the show, the actors were out in the lobby doing improv with the audience — and the Boys Home students jumped right in. One student asked an actor if they knew the bus stop game.
That’s when Caroline knew something had actually stuck.
She’s been running a theater club in the spring, with student numbers that fluctuate but never quite disappear. Boys stop by every few weeks to ask when they’re going to do an actual play. The answer is: soon, hopefully. Caroline wants to continue the Mini Master workshops, build toward a full production, and — in a detail that feels very Boys Home — eventually partner with the Trades Program to have students design and build the sets.
The program is still young, and there’s more work ahead. But the shift in how these students see themselves — and what they’re willing to try — is already real.
If you’re curious about how Boys Home of Virginia supports the whole person through education, the arts, and hands-on programming, reach out to us today and learn more about life at our residential school in Covington, VA.