What I Learned at Reality TV School

What I Learned at Reality TV School

New York school teaches wannabe reality stars how to be better versions of themselves

By Kate Mulcrone
Special to MSN Entertainment

If spring is a time of renewal then let's go ahead and call summer a time of reality -- reality television, that is. Reality shows have become such a dominant force in our culture that almost anyone can become a celebrity by convincing a producer or two that they're worth watching. Even though the idea is to be "real," it turns out you can learn how to be an arguably better version of yourself and increase your odds of getting cast on a reality show. How? By going to school.

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Even though I'd rather perform surgery on myself than go on TV, I took part in a one-day workshop at the New York Reality TV School so that you could all benefit from my ... embarrassment. Admittedly, I was curious to see what the other students would be like. You have to be pretty serious about reality TV to shell out $139 and give up a Saturday, right? Like the woman I chatted with before class who told me she'd like to be on "America's Next Top Model." She was about 5 feet 5 inches tall, so I'm not sure it's in the cards for her.

Our instructor was Robert Galinsky, the school's founder, who, according to his IMDb page, played Fanatic Hassidic Jew in the 2001 film "Brooklyn Babylon." Other instructors included Robert Russell, who lent his expertise in the area of casting. He has cast shows like "Big Brother" and "The Bachelor." Jorge Bendersky and Dave Martin -- two former reality show cast members (Jorge was on "Groomer Has It" and Dave was a contestant on "Top Chef") -- were also on hand, to cover the whole "been there, done that" angle. Clearly, I was in the company of experts. Here's what I learned:

D o you want to be the person who consoles the crier or the one who bags on her? Do whatever you want, just make sure you seize the moment and turn someone else's tantrum into some camera time for yourself.

Reality TV School Is Kinda Like Preschool
Reality TV School started bright and early -- OK, slightly before noon -- on a Saturday morning. Most of the other people there looked like they'd gotten a good night's sleep instead of staying out at the bar until pretty late. Ahem. The first thing we had to do was stand around in a circle and introduce ourselves. Let's call it show and tell, grown-up version. Most people were actors. One guy was a contestant on "Deal or No Deal." Another woman was about to shoot a pilot for a reality show based on her dating life. After that we did some stretching to loosen up. Then we played a bizarro game of Simon Says. Looking back, that was the easy part. I felt a little silly, sure, but it would get worse before it got better.

Reality TV School Is Kinda Like High School
Remember high school? Remember feeling self-conscious all the time? Well at Reality TV School there were cameras everywhere. The smarter classmates seemed blissfully unaware of them, but I felt myself freezing up every time my image was put up on the video monitor. The dress I was wearing? Obviously too big now. Oops. The cut on my arm from doing yoga outside -- don't ask -- well, it seems like it might be turning into a scar. After Simon Says we had to dance around and introduce ourselves to people. I don't think I've tried to dance sober since I was about 13 years old. It was hard. I gave myself an E for effort and retreated from the "dance floor" as soon as I was allowed. Some people loved the camera, or maybe the camera loved them. The secret seems to be an awareness of the camera and an accompanying ability to ignore it. Some people were naturals: They danced around like nobody was watching. The rest of us? Well, we probably won't be trying out for "So You Think You Can Dance" anytime soon.

Don't Worry About Things Flying at Your Head
After our instructor cleared the dance floor, he had volunteers stand in the middle of the room and talk to the cameras while the rest of us stood around and listened. After about 30 seconds, the instructor had us bounce a tennis ball around the room. It was OK at first, but once we were up to three tennis balls I completely lost the thread of what our volunteer was saying. Bouncing balls are distracting! I guess the lesson here is to ignore them, but that could quite literally be painful. Some people seemed to be able to listen and catch and throw at the same time, and I think this is what the rest of us were supposed to learn to do. It makes sense: A reality show might look intimate at home, but there are probably a minimum of five people with cameras or clipboards standing just out of sight.

From there we moved from camera confessionals to casting calls. A dapper but unnervingly direct guy named Phil read out various casting notices from reality shows and people jumped in front of the cameras to "try out." We had two wannabe scream queens. The guy from "Deal or No Deal" talked about being in debt and seemed vaguely proud of it. Another woman talked about how a loan to her sister turned into a gift because, hey, sometimes that's life. Would these people have made the cut? I have no idea, but at least none of them got hit by tennis balls.

Sometimes Real Isn't Real
The fake casting calls hit a hiccup when one woman stubbornly refused to look into the camera in front of her. Phil yelled at her and she crumpled up the sheet of paper she was holding and left the room. A minute later she was back for a second take. That one ended in actual tears -- big, fake, crocodile tears. I don't know, I've always been able to spot a fake crier. Trust me, it was my one shining moment of the day. Most of the other people took the tears at face value, and one woman even rushed to console the crying woman. A minute later, ol' Crocodile Tears confessed that she'd been hired by the school to fake a tantrum. We discussed it. How did it make us feel? A couple people admitted to being annoyed. The fake tantrum was a lesson, though. Do you want to be the person who consoles the crier or the one who bags on her? Do whatever you want, just make sure you seize the moment and turn someone else's tantrum into some ca mera time for yourself.

Seriously, Reality TV School Is Kinda Like Preschool
After the casting calls, we all settled back into our seats for a little question and answer session. The big idea here? Be yourself. See, just like preschool! Robert Russell said his biggest deal breaker when casting shows is shyness, followed closely by lack of personality. He told us that confidence is key and that it's crucial to make a strong impression on the producers. Jorge Bendersky talked about how his Argentinean accent was a liability on "Groomer Has It" until he made it work for him. "My accent means you can't be on your computer or talking to someone else, you have to look at me," he said. Fair enough. "Being on a reality show is like being the best version of yourself for six weeks," he added.

I suspect that some of the "naturals" in the class will be returning to the New York Reality TV School for the more advanced workshop. I won't be one of them. Even so, I learned a lot at Reality TV School: I'm just as unsuited for reality TV as I figured I was. I don't have a "big personality." I'm easily distracted by cameras ... and tennis balls. I don't bust out with personal information just because there's a camera in front of me. So, yeah, don't look for me on the next installment of "The Next Food Network Star" or "The Bachelor." I'm much more comfortable "being myself" in front of a keyboard than in front of a camera.