With my flaming red hair, I thought I would be perfect for the part of Ariel in my fourth grade class's production of Disney's The Little Mermaid. I was introverted and had little confidence in my singing abilities, but I decided to try out anyway. That logic fell apart on audition day, after a girl got up and sang Ariel's song–"Part of Your World." When she finished, everyone applauded. Then I heard *him*.
"She sounded so stupid," the boy in front of me declared.
I gasped. How could I sing knowing he would be waiting with scathing commentary? I resigned myself to stage crew.
Flash forward. Six years later, my high school was putting on “Beauty and the Beast”. I wanted to work backstage again, so I went to the information meeting after school.
"I'd like everyone to introduce themselves," announced the director.
She went down the rows, asking each person his or her name. She came to me.
"Heather."
Everyone looked.
"Speak up, I can't hear you."
"My name is Heather."
Always quiet, I disliked the attention. Behind me, I heard something whispered about carrots. I slunk down in my chair.
The director talked about the play. There was not much to be said about stage crew, just that we had to start showing up to rehearsals a few weeks before opening night. Yawn.
But I surprised myself at the end of the meeting when I walked up and asked her about auditions. I could sing a song from any musical. An hour later, I had acquired some "Part of Your World" sheet music from the library and was heading home to practice.
Two weeks later, I stood onstage, filled with restless energy. The accompanist began the eight-measure introduction to the song. When she was done, I sang.
I got ensemble. My life is not really a Disney movie, and my voice did not land me the lead role or enchant nearby songbirds. But that is not the point.
The true challenges for me were my audition and my first times practicing in front of my peers, when my hands were shaking and I wanted to disappear. My final performance was only the end result of my taking a sledgehammer to my fear of using my voice.
"She sounded so stupid," the boy in front of me declared.
I gasped. How could I sing knowing he would be waiting with scathing commentary? I resigned myself to stage crew.
Flash forward. Six years later, my high school was putting on “Beauty and the Beast”. I wanted to work backstage again, so I went to the information meeting after school.
"I'd like everyone to introduce themselves," announced the director.
She went down the rows, asking each person his or her name. She came to me.
"Heather."
Everyone looked.
"Speak up, I can't hear you."
"My name is Heather."
Always quiet, I disliked the attention. Behind me, I heard something whispered about carrots. I slunk down in my chair.
The director talked about the play. There was not much to be said about stage crew, just that we had to start showing up to rehearsals a few weeks before opening night. Yawn.
But I surprised myself at the end of the meeting when I walked up and asked her about auditions. I could sing a song from any musical. An hour later, I had acquired some "Part of Your World" sheet music from the library and was heading home to practice.
Two weeks later, I stood onstage, filled with restless energy. The accompanist began the eight-measure introduction to the song. When she was done, I sang.
I got ensemble. My life is not really a Disney movie, and my voice did not land me the lead role or enchant nearby songbirds. But that is not the point.
The true challenges for me were my audition and my first times practicing in front of my peers, when my hands were shaking and I wanted to disappear. My final performance was only the end result of my taking a sledgehammer to my fear of using my voice.
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