All the World's a Stage

An enigmatic smile forms from my lips every time I think about it. The non-existent rules of the Green Room, the late night practices, and Ms. Day’s constant urging for us to “Raise the bar, people!” have blended together into a sort of spin art. It is the cycle of creating an unforgettable performance that starts with flexible scheduling. Splashes of stress and forgotten lines are added in as the wheel hastens. Coffee and energy drinks are quickly consumed in astronomical amounts. “Is your microphone on? I totally missed my mark!” It is a whirlwind that will continue until the last performance when we run outside of the Santini Center to congratulate each other, not only for a job well done, but for surviving. In the end, we are left with another abstract and equally beautiful masterpiece. From the outside, it is viewed only as a blank canvas with odd shapes and colors. But for those who have taken part; who have felt their adrenaline pumping (when the musty, dark green curtains open) and have seen the curious eyes from the unsuspecting audience, they know it is something wonderful that can’t be explained and analyzed like a science book. No, it is not just some high school kids playing around on stage. It is theatre- a microcosm of an interdependent nation of thespians.

For the past four years, these thespians have become my family and I will certainly miss those who have grown with me and helped me develop my own identity. A few years ago, I was an innocent freshman with no clue of what Ms. Day was capable of doing, and before I knew it, I was thrown into a world of blocking, scripts, and peculiar smelling dressing rooms. As the stage transformed into the Garden of Eden, a construction site, and even a tropical island, I too transformed in all aspects- physically, mentally, and emotionally. You see, Ms. Day does not pick the cookie-cutter play such as “The Music Man” or “Annie” that solely requires those with certain physical attributes. Instead, the plays we perform can sometimes come across as controversial, especially for a Catholic high school in Suburbia. I can distinctly remember, much to our dismay, scenes and songs like “Brother Trucker” bowdlerized for questionable content. Death, racism, and sex are inevitable subjects in many of the plays, but they are more realistic than any perfectly choreographed song and dance sequence. The stories we perform and the characters we become are real, and they parallel the world around us. This can also be the challenging part. I had to step out of my confined box many times and research who I was portraying: I became a migrant worker yearning for a better life, an eccentric wife bent on burning down the farm house, a cleaning woman dreaming of a better life for her daughter, and a peasant girl eager to tell the story filled with family.

Though the costumes and props are stored away and the stage is splintered and taped, the memories are ever present- unflawed and clear. On stage I met my best friend, shared a glance with a secret admirer, bowed and said goodbye to former family members. Soon, I must also face the spotlight as part of the class of 2009. I will create my own set and write my own script. Ms Day and my family may not always be there to help me with my lines, but I can take with me more than I ever expected. With me I will take relationships which will not be broken, shared struggles to reach a high note, celebrated accomplishments, and numerous tears. I cannot help but quote the all too cliché “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players; they have their exits and their entrances; and one man [or woman] in his [or her] time plays many parts…” In this case, Shakespeare was right. We don’t just act; we live.