In my sophomore year of high school, my friend and I auditioned for the school play as a joke. During my friend’s audition, she decided she didn’t want to be in the show, but I went to my callback.

I remember not knowing anyone there – I learned later that they all thought I was making fun of them by auditioning. Three days before opening night, I finally made a few friends.
I was Annie in “The One Act Play that Goes Wrong.” Playing her was my everything. I wanted this role to be perfect. I wanted to have fun.

That year, I was nominated for Best Comic Actress in a Contemporary Play. It felt good for my work to be recognized by a board of professionals. As a cast, we won Best Play. I felt so connected to this small group of people because our accomplishments were so big.
Later that year, the annual spring musical came around. I don’t sing and I don’t dance, so I joined the stage crew and loved it. I felt that I had a sense of control in the chaos.

I then worked with the school’s theater director over the summer for his company. I came back the following year as Mrs. White in “Clue,” and I stage managed “The SpongeBob Musical.” At that point, I was completely entrapped within the program.
Going into my senior year, I started to struggle with the director. He constantly told me to “stop being mean or I would never get a lead.” Despite his negative outlook on my personality, I still auditioned for Anne Frank in “The Diary of Anne Frank” and landed the role.

Anne Frank was, by far, the hardest character that I’ve played. She was a real person with a real story that I needed to do justice.

For that show, I wrote a press release for my director to share. I didn’t know exactly where he was going to send it, but I was proud of it. Yes, I quoted myself and wrote an article about an organization I was in, but I was also a high school student in a small program, and no one told me not to.

I grabbed the Republican-American paper one day, excited to see how my press release was used. Let’s just say, the article read like a middle schooler used ChatGPT for an assignment and changed a few words around. The structure, language, ideas and everything else was mine. I was devastated. I called the Republican-American a million times that week asking what happened and why no credit was given for something that was clearly plagiarized.
Instead of retribution, I was lectured on everything I did wrong – accusing a journalist of plagiarism, writing for an organization I was in, complaining about someone older and whatever else they could think of. My director told me to leave everything alone and focus on Anne Frank. My whole life was drama and journalism, and this criticism made me believe I would never do either.

I eventually moved on because the article was already in print and, at that point, the publication really could not do anything to rectify the situation. I performed as Anne Frank regardless and was nominated for Best Leading Actress in a Contemporary Play. I was on top of the world.

For my final show in my senior year, I was the stage manager for “Guys and Dolls.” One month into rehearsals, the director was forced to resign due to an internal personnel issue.
The superintendent cancelled rehearsals until further notice and started to discuss defunding the program.

The drama department rallied together and advocated for the assistant director to take over instead. I also proposed an idea that changed the dynamic of the whole production: sell advertisements in the playbill.

By selling advertisements and “bravo notes,” the drama department would be able to fund costuming, props and set design. This was a time consuming but rewarding solution to our funding problem. I repeatedly sent out reminders on Facebook to get the community involved. I designed advertisements for realtors, pharmacies and construction companies, and families sent in photos and words of encouragement.

We ended up making approximately $700 from this endeavor. The graphic design department was stressed, but I was able to help bring back funding to our small program, especially during this tough time.

As the stage manager for “Guys and Dolls,” I helped with prop design, acted, ushered, shot promotion footage and worked with marketing. How could they tell me I had to graduate and leave this program after all that?

Once I graduated, the school hired a new director and left the assistant director we advocated for behind. Although I was no longer in the program, I still texted the high schoolers every day to help with little things.

The day of their closing night the year after I graduated, the stage manager called me crying because the microphones were broken and they had no idea how to fix it. Did I know how to fix the problem? No. Did I rush to Connecticut to help? Yes.

I arrived at the school and the director kept making snide comments about how she’s heard so much about me and she hopes I can help them – I was so uncomfortable.

She ended up leaving after that show. One of the students told the director that she ruined the program we built back up – she definitely took a page from my book because I am not afraid of confrontation when it comes to that program.

The former assistant director came back and put things back into action; I called her right away and offered to help.

I sat in the audition room of “Legally Blonde” and decided to jump back into the marketing role. This, to me, is not an inconvenience because I’m building my portfolio while staying connected to those I love.

There’s honestly nowhere I’d rather be. I helped build the program up and it was devastating to see it fall. Even though I have now graduated, my high school drama department is still my home.