I’m currently sitting in a rehearsal for our high school musical, and I realize there’s no place I would rather be.
When advocating theatrical and performing arts programs in schools, many experts turn towards the science behind benefits of music and theatrics (“receiving constructive feedback”, “accountability”, “focus”, etc). Undeniably, the list of how musicals scientifically benefit adolescents, and people as a whole, goes on and on.
But all that aside- I realize throughout my past years of school-sponsored theater programs, being on stage has cultivated friendships and passions I wouldn’t have had otherwise. These 45-increments of my seven hour school days, or three hour rehearsals in place of a sports practice, have bettered me beyond the stiff statistic-backed facts a presenter would propose to a board meeting.
My sixth-grade drama class became an outlet for expression. The sixth grade school musical did more than teach me “time management”- it became an antidote for the anxiety disorder I had at the time. Middle school musicals began harvesting my love for something greater than the obsessions my OCD had created. I met other kids with a shared love for performing, and formed friendships through our bonds over whatever was showing on Broadway. Three years- notoriously known as some of the hardest years of a child’s life- were automatically made easier, and my worries slipped away as a result.
But not even my unique middle school theater experience would prepare me for what my eyes were about to be opened to in high school.
Like many students, my transition into freshman year was a bit rough around the edges. And, like many adolescent thespians, the school musical became my saving grace.
Not all kids fit into the “boxes” that stock the school halls. Not every child likes to play the sports the school body often fawns over. Yet, those same kids aren’t automatically the “nerds” others may accuse them to be. Some don’t consider themselves to be “artsy” or an all-A student, and not everybody wants to run for class president. For many teens, school is a place where one feels like they can’t exactly find where they belong. But, at least in my personal experiences, I’ve found that the people at the after-school rehearsals are all pretty much in the same boat- and extremely accepting. Theater is our football. And sharing a stage and making a show come alive in a spectacular way relies on all castmates appreciating what each person brings forward. It relies on our strengths, and forces us to focus on building our group up. We recognize that each person has individual talents- and we discover our own.
We learn that we might not be as bad at dancing as we thought. Or maybe singing in front of a packed theater isn’t that awful, once we get used to it. Maybe we find that delivering lines or dying on stage is something we actually enjoy doing. Or that the overture on opening night will give us the best kind of chills, and a closing bow will feel liberating. But it wasn’t until closing night of my first high school show, Shrek the Musical, that I realized what would walk away with me from the theater once my makeup was packed up for the last time.
The school theater program I am a part of has an interesting experience where we can openly reminisce on our time with each other when we become a senior. All 12th-graders ceremoniously sit on stage, with their feet in the pit, and deliver a small speech on what the program has meant to them, and they lock up the past years as they toss their written speech into our special beat-up ukulele case.
These sessions get deep. We quickly realize that some are pouring out things that they wouldn’t even tell a therapist or counselor. Kids recount dark times in their lives, the loss of a loved one, an injury one overcame, betrayal due to their sexuality, and other horrors. And many end their speeches in the same way- “If it wasn’t for you all- if it wasn’t for this- I don’t know where I’d be. Because even the bad days were made happier here.”
In these moments, I knew my friends were more like my family. And the school’s theater would always be my home-away-from-home.
I feel fortunate to have a high school theater program to take part in, as I know many schools lack funding or interest for performing arts programs. I hope and wish that each and every child will, one day, have the opportunity to be in a show if they so choose. If I had won the 1.3 Billion Powerball lottery, you can bet that I would have donated performing arts funding to schools who lack it.
Theater has created bonds and confidence, I believe, no other school program would have brought me in the same way. Not only will I receive my diploma next year with better “problem-solving skills” and impeccable diction, but I will walk away with more confidence in my individualism, more friendships, and, overall- more happiness.