The Importance of Training as an Actor: Cultivating Skills, Taking Risks, and Creating Opportunities

  Teaching at the Highest Level? Let’s Talk About It. By KP Phagnasay There’s been some recent conversation around the idea of me teaching acting at the university or conservatory level. Honestly, just being mentioned in that space is humbling. I have a deep respect for educators and for institutions that train the next generation of artists. But there’s a reality behind that opportunity—one that many outside the system may not fully understand. The Academic Path vs. The Industry Path In most cases, to qualify for a teaching position at that level, you need a Master’s or MFA in the subject you’re teaching. It’s part of the structure of higher education. I understand and respect that process. For the record, I attended two years of graduate school. I was well on my way to finishing, but due to life circumstances—both personal and professional—I had to step away before completing the degree. That decision wasn’t easy, but it was necessary at the time. Still, the experience, trai...

There’s a story I’ve carried with me my whole life. It started in the quiet of a temple in Laos, beneath a sky that knew too much fear. I was just a boy, holding my sister’s hand, not fully understanding why we were leaving or what came next—only that we were running toward something called freedom. We crossed borders, slept in detention centers, filled out endless paperwork. We waited for a new beginning. We landed in America. But the arrival was only the start of a different kind of survival. We were the only few Lao family in the community. I was a kid who didn’t quite belong. My lunch smelled different. My name was mispronounced. I was mistaken for every Asian but my own. And yet—inside, something was stirring. On weekends, I watched "Black Belt Theater", gripping my seat as Bruce Lee fought not just men, but stereotypes. He was the only reflection I saw on screen, even if he wasn’t Lao. It didn’t matter. He was a symbol that maybe, just maybe, I could belong somew...

My Refugee Journey: A Legal Path to America My dad, family helper, older siter, mom, and me.My only baby picture of me as a baby being held by my mother.  When we escaped Laos, I was only 6-7 years old—but the journey that followed is etched into my memory. It wasn’t just a journey across borders; it was a long, deliberate process that required legal steps, documentation, and an unwavering commitment to doing everything the right way. Our journey began at a temple, where we spent the night before being escorted to a local Thai police station. There, we were questioned, searched, and asked to complete various paperwork. From there, we were transported to another local authority post. Men were separated from women and children, and again we faced several days of interviews and processing. Eventually, we were cleared to move to the next stage of our journey. We were sent to a detention center where we underwent further paperwork and questioning—each step carefully documented. After ...