As a senior, there are many parts of my identity that have been cultivated by the courses I’ve taken at Midtown. While the adults in my life have told me to take in these “years that fly by,” I could not feel more different from the person I was when I was first introduced to performing in theater.
I vividly remember my first day of high school; my peers and I wore face masks, and my hair was parted a bit too aggressively to the side. I entered the Black Box theater for my first class, Theater Arts and Fundamentals, recognizing students I hadn’t seen since before the pandemic. I remember the fear of approaching others, and the discomfort I felt making new friends after having spent the second half of middle school in my living room.
This is when I was introduced to my theater teacher Jake Dreiling, who walked into the dimly-lit room after the bell rang and recited a first-day speech that I could tell he had rehearsed in previous years. He told us to spend just a few seconds “taking it all in.” As he spoke, I realized I had never allowed myself to sit in a moment before. I learned how to stop time, which is a skill that I would go on to develop for the next four years of my life, both on and off the stage.
When I first signed up for Theater Arts and Fundamentals as a freshman, I expected to stick to the technical aspects of theater, such as working with lights and building sets. I quickly discovered that the purpose of the class was to introduce new students to every side of theater. While I dreaded the idea of everyone’s eyes on me, I’ve never been one to turn down a low-effort graded assignment, so I selected a monologue to perform. I had no prior experience with acting, so I based my emotional performance on characters I had seen in movies and television. I expected the monologue assignment to be a one-and- done experience; something I completed for a grade and would not have to revisit. When I stepped into the spotlight, however, everyone in the audience disappeared.
I could no longer feel the mask on my face. I entered this world where none of my personal thoughts existed; it was that time-stopping feeling where I wasn’t aware of the past or the future, and I felt entirely in control of the present moment. The words just came out, and I recited the monologue as though it was the pledge of allegiance or my phone number; it was like second nature to me. When I sat back down, I felt this rush of adrenaline from performing something I could have easily messed up on in front of my peers. In this moment, I knew I couldn’t let go of acting onstage.
As the school year progressed, I gained more confidence with each performance, slowly learning tactics to incorporate into my acting. I auditioned for Senior One Acts, which allowed seniors to direct other seniors and underclassmen in original and student-selected scenes at the end of the year. I was immersed in the experience of participating in a high school production for the first time, and I appreciated the passion everyone had for putting the play together. This was only the beginning of my experience with theater, and I went on to be a part of musicals, such as “Chicago,” “Tuck Everlasting” and “Sweeney Todd,” as well as non-musical productions such as “Our Place,” “Trap” and “Twelfth Night.”
My first lead role was Mrs. Wormwood in “Matilda,” which was this year’s musical put on by the Musical Theater Production class. I got to dress in trashy costumes and belt a solo song for the first time, which was an unreal experience as someone who used to struggle with simply uttering a few words onstage. With each new character I portrayed, I unlocked a part of myself that I wasn’t familiar with, which encouraged me to embrace parts of my identity that I hadn’t given much thought to before I was cast for these roles.
For all my four years of high school, theater encouraged me to live in the present and take advantage of the choices I could make on a whim. In the spotlight, I had no way of reversing decisions I had already made, and being watched during each performance reminded me to take in every moment of these years that seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. Whether you participate in theater or not, I think everyone can benefit from pausing every once in a while to take in their surroundings. We may not be able to stop time, but we can choose to live in the present moment.
It’s surreal for me to call myself a senior when it feels like just yesterday I was sitting in that dim room learning how to stop time. As I leave behind the work I’ve put into theater throughout high school, I will always remember Dreiling’s advice to let myself pause and take in each moment. Although I could’ve never imagined that I would take this path, I appreciate the broader perspective theatrical performance has given me, and I will continue to take in every moment after graduation as if I’m still onstage.
