Student Blog: Why We Don't Wear Shoes in Acting School

On my first day of school at Tisch, I wandered through the white and red corridors of the Stella Adler Studio of Acting, darting past charming smiles and intimidating glares alike. The aristocratic gaze of Adler's portrait on my neck propelled me through the doors of our first class. As we settled in, quietly getting to know each other, we were greeted by our teacher with one basic request: Take off your shoes.

Easy enough, we thought, kicking off worn white Converse and striking new Nike's; we stood there, shoulder to shoulder, like toy soldiers ready for battle. Our individuality, shown only through the colors of our socks. But there was more:

Our exercise is going to be easier, without socks. It's up to you.

With awkward eyes, we processed this simple, yet unpleasantly foreign request. The strangers around me became a little more strange as we separately fought this childish, internal battle: leave them on or take them off.

There is something underratedly vulnerable about being barefoot in public. For many, we are only barefoot when comfortable; at home with family, in the shower, or headed to bed. It only made sense that we felt insecure as our task was to perform a personal act of comfort in a room of unfamiliarity.

I will admit, that first day I took off my socks purely with the intent of winning an ounce of respect, if that, from the lioness of a professor before me. The rest of my class followed suit and soon we were standing there, toes curled, patiently waiting for instructions. Little did we know, we had just completed the first challenge of our theatrical training.

"It was like having an audience for our feet" one of my friends (who chose to keep his socks on) noted a few months later. We unknowingly welcomed our first New York audience that day: each other.

Vulnerability is a requirement as an artist. It's terrifying to risk tripping over your laces when letting your imagination run wild. However, actors are trained to dive headfirst into the uncomfortable, to kick off our shoes and to try on new ones (that we already know are 3 sizes too big). We become eager to try on Mom's highest heels; ready to run in the cleats of the kids next door; hungry to dance in Cinderella's slippers before midnight, and powerful enough to step on fingers wearing Iago's boots.

Artistic training teaches us to relieve ourselves of judgement. We are pushed to be impulsive, creative, and most importantly, human. We strive to embrace our imaginations, and the imaginations of others, sharing ideas and accessing the untouched, expressive sides of ourselves that society is known to step on. It is the freedom from our own critical bounds that incites us to imagine what it's like to walk around as someone else.

I think about our first day now as we move around the room, stretching unclad feet, pointing and flexing as if our shoes had been holding us back all along. As our second semester looms in the distance, it's comforting to remember that the risks we take now, and in the future of our careers, started with that distant decision: leave them on or take them off.

What would you choose to do?

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