“Where’s the journal?” “Has anyone seen my shoes for act two?” “The door keeps sticking. Do we have time to fix it?”

A cacophony of chaos surrounds me as I make my rounds backstage. Actors and technicians rushing back and forth preparing for the start of the show. I give a small smile. Opening night is always stressful, but I couldn’t be more excited. After months of work, blocking the show, teaching it, and practicing over and over again, we were going to perform it. In front of an audience that was growing larger as they lined up outside the auditorium doors.

“The journal is on the prop table, check under the letters. The shoes are in the girl’s dressing room by the mirrors. As for the door,” I give the door a firm push. It swings open like a knife through butter. “The door just needs a good push.” They all thank me and hurry off to finish their tasks. I glance up at the clock. Its green luminescent glow shines down giving me the time. The bold letters read 5:55. Already! I double checked my watch and sure enough it was 5:55. “Five minutes to places!” I yell, pausing the chaos for a millisecond. “Thank you five!” Echoes back to me from all sides.

A serious air descends as the assistant stage manager does a final check, making sure everyone is in place. I exit the main backstage and ascend the steep, sloping stairs to arrive at my battle station. The light booth. I dawn my amour. My headset, my weapon. My script, my battle plan. Every line of dialogue. Every movement the actors make. Every sound effect and lighting change mapped out and ready to be called to action. I sit down on my stool. Ready to command my troops into action. I look over at my comrades in arms. My brilliant lighting technicians. They both give me a smile and a thumbs up. They’re just as ready for action as I am. I glance once again at my watch. The digital face now reads 5:58. We’re right on schedule. I lower the microphone of my headset to my mouth, delivering my first order.

“Places top of the show.” I say with confidence. I check in with each department, making sure everyone is ready. “Sound ready?” “Ready!” “Lights ready?” “Ready!” “Backstage ready?” A pause. “Ready!”

The lights of the auditorium flash in a steady rhythm. One, two, three. Signaling the audience to take their seats. The show is about to start. I look down at the sea of people all scurrying like ants to take their seats. The room I’m looking over darkens and a hush falls over the audience. “Spot light go. LQ 3 ready.” I call over my headset. The pitch black gives way to a beam of light projecting to the center of the stage. Let the show begin, I think to myself and so it does. Cue after cue is called. I’m in my element. I’m a conductor of this chaotic march. The energy in the air is electric. The audience laughs in all the right places. Everything goes wrong in just the right way. I swell with pride as the actors I’ve worked with and instructed over the past few months bring their characters to life.

I realize how much I’ve accomplished in such a short amount of time. I get to say I not only did theater in high school, but I directed an entire show. When I first took on this task it was daunting. I’ve been doing theater for years, but never on this scale. There were lots of challenges, but I met each one head on and I worked with those around me to find a solution. Being in theater has given me wonderful opportunities and allowed me to meet people I’ll never forget. In America, everyone faces challenges, but it is part of our experience to overcome them.

© Amelia. All rights reserved. If you are interested in quoting this story, contact the national team and we can put you in touch with the author’s teacher.