by Sean Gregory

Show posters for A Christmas Carol and Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.

When I first walked into drama auditions this past fall, I wore my hat low and didn’t say much. Forensics had taught me well, so I figured I would try my luck on the stage. I knew what role I wanted in the upcoming production of A Christmas Carol, but I didn’t want anyone else to know.

Auditions always seemed odd to me, as it was only the actor, the stage, and the director. Gripping the audition paper tightly in one hand with the other hand dangling at my side, I walked out, gave my name and recited the applicable piece of the script. Silence followed. Then the director inquired, “Just a thought; Why weren’t you in drama last year?” Truthfully, I didn’t know.

Freshman year had been just a flurry of fitting in and finding my own niche. “I was just too busy I suppose,” I replied. So I walked off the stage, with a gratifying feeling of accomplishment resonating through me.

“Just a thought; Why weren’t you in drama last year?” Truthfully, I didn’t know.

I almost assumed that I had landed the role of the Ghost of Christmas Present, taking into account my stature and overall stage presence. Nonetheless, butterflies still graced my stomach until the day that roles were posted.

Ghost of Christmas Present – Sean Gregory

Jackpot.

The following 2 months of my life consisted of late nights, failed attempts at memorizing scripts, and a lot of sugar-ridden hot tea to maintain my voice and keep me awake long enough to struggle through homework.  Production week, or, as coined in the theatrical business, Hell Week, came. It was 4-9:30, every night, for one week. Hot, stuffy costumes and skin-killing make-up were worn by everyone for these seven days of hard-pressed acting.

Through all of this, I noticed something. People were happy; they were having the time of their lives.  In some way, I was too.

Opening night came, followed by the Friday evening performance, and before I knew it, the curtain drew on the club’s last portrayal of Dickson’s classic on Sunday afternoon. I knew I had gained a lot of friends, and even more memories of my first tangle with theatrics. Little did I know that it wouldn’t be my last.

January rolled around, with drama safely tucked in the back of my mind. Then, the postings hit the board for auditions, a meeting was held, and it was off to the races once again. This time however, a new obstacle, singing, presented itself.

Being the back-seat American Idol star that I am, singing in front of people never seemed like too big of a deal.   I just had to open my mouth and sing the tune, right? The problem was that I had never gotten out of my comfortable range.  More to the point, I had never sung in front of people on a stage with all the lights on me.

Grandpa Joe seemed to be a desirable character for me to portray in the upcoming Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.  He was a fun, likable character involved in most of the production. However, along with a big role, came A LOT of singing. So, auditions arrived. Well. They arrived, and I left that evening not having any idea if it had gone well, or if the blood was still running down their ears.

Grandpa Joe – Sean Gregory

Well. Here goes nothing.

February passed, as did March, and to my surprise, I had little that needed to be improved. Then April came, and so did a lot of long, tiring nights, and stressed out voices. Mine, however, stayed intact all the way through that time and into production week. However, a problem began to arise as opening night came closer and closer, and there were still scripts for us backstage.

Things weren’t looking too bright at this point. Locations for set pieces were still under discussion, lines weren’t fully complete, and singing was slipping at spots. I thought to myself, how can a group of disorderly students possibly pull all this together.

The Wednesday before opening night came, and we were hit hard. The administration came down to inspect all of the different aspects of what we were doing.  They came to the conclusion that nothing could be suspended from the stage.  Most prominently, Charlie (Kiera Bohan) and I could not be suspended during the Fizzy Lifting Drink scene. Granted, blame can be placed on both sides of the equation, but, my favorite part of the show now became my most despised stage appearance.

Opening night went off without a hitch, with Charlie and I merely stepping up a ramp onto a box, while singing my most challenging song, “Flying”. When I went out to meet the audience, however, all my friends and relatives couldn’t believe that I could actually sing.

“I had no idea that you could sing!” said most if not all of my very supportive fans.

Before I knew it, senior night came and went, the cast party took a toll on my sleeping to this very day, and it was all over. I had made it through the first year of drama relatively unscathed.

I’ve made a lot of friends over the course of the past year in Drama Club, who I won’t soon forget. I have high expectations for myself over the next two years, and four more edifying productions. My singing may leave something to be desired, but, through all of it, I had fun. I also learned a lot about so many kids and their abilities, and even some things about myself. I realized that not only can 90 kids with 90 different points of view stand each other for hours on end, but that they can collaborate and create a stunning theatrical production.