Breaking the Mold (from Chicken Soup for the College Soul)
by Zan Gaudioso
There I stood, in the middle of a campus that more
resembled a city than a school. What was I doing there? I
felt so out of place, insignificant and small. I had graduated
high school early, left all my peers behind and now I was
facing a whole new world seemingly alone. Besides that, I
was painfully shy and reaching out for help, or even
companionship for that matter, seemed like a daunting
task. I was not the first one to ever go to college, but it
sure felt that way. Maybe I just wasn't cut out for it.
It was my first day, of my first semester, of my first year in
college and all I wanted to do was to go back to high
school - and so I did. I made an appointment with my old
academic counselor. I felt sure that she would have some
answers for me. When she suggested I see a career
counselor on campus, I thought I would cry. How could
that help? She assured me that a counselor would help
soothe my transition, as well as be able to help me with my
curriculum. I sat there while she called and arranged an
appointment for me, then I walked out of her office feeling
like that baby bird that was being given the proverbial
boot.
The next day I sat in a hall with a hoard of milling students.
They seemed so confident and directed and so much
older than me. I was hoping that no one noticed me sitting
there alone with my lunch sack. Finally, I was called into
the counselor's office. She turned out to be a wealth of
information, but what about these feelings of insecurity?
"Would you suggest therapy?" I asked.
Her answer surprised me. She suggested that I
immediately enroll in a drama class. She noticed my
obvious apprehension, but she was adamant about this
particular suggestion - so much so, that she marched me
over to the drama department and introduced me to the
acting teacher. Before I knew it, I was in.
That first week of classes, I pretty much kept to myself. I
took part in all those obligatory exercises in drama class
that seemed so silly. Be a tree, feel how it feels ... I didn't
understand how this was going to help, but I persevered. I
would still escape from campus when I had a break and go
over to my old high school. Even if it was just to sit in the
parking lot and eat lunch, it would make me feel better.
Sometimes I would see some of my old friends. While
they were getting ready for all the fun and excitement that
their senior year had to offer, I was trying to fit into a
strange new world. Maybe I had made a mistake
graduating early. I was missing out on all the senior
activities. If I had just waited I wouldn't have to do it alone,
I would have been with some of my friends.
I couldn't figure out how such a disjointed kind of school
experience could lend itself to making friends or creating
bonds. Each hour I went to a classroom, miles away from
the last one, with different people. Who came up with this
system anyway?
Finally, I began to find some solace in my drama class. It
was becoming a safe little world in an otherwise austere
place. I grew more involved with the scenes we were now
doing, and I was assigned a partner, which gave me an
excuse to get to know someone. Besides that, I noticed
that the teacher was giving me roles so opposite of my
own personality, that it gave me an excuse to come out of
my shell. I started to look forward to this one hour a week,
Monday, Wednesday and Friday.
The professor believed that the key to playing a character
well was knowing yourself. Introspection became the goal
over the next couple of weeks. We would lie on the stage
in a large circle, with our heads toward the center, eyes
closed. There we would explore our childhood, dialogue
with our parents, our siblings ... How did it make you feel?
How do you feel now? People were actually crying.
Then we would sit and talk about it. "What happened just
then?" the professor would say. "Bookmark that
experience for retrieval when one of your characters is
crying out for it." Little did I know it, but I was shedding the
layers of my own personal shyness by uncovering past
experiences.
When Jon Voight came to campus to do Hamlet, the
entire drama department became involved. Everyone
knew that he was bringing actors with him, but he would
also be holding some roles open on the off chance of
finding talent at the University. Auditions would be held the
following week, open to all. My drama teacher encouraged
me to try out. I was terrified but I thought, if I could just
push through this experience, I could do anything...maybe
even finish college.
The monologues flew, rehearsals were rampant. Everyone
was helping everyone else, the excitement was palpable.
This felt better than a high school dance. I was spending
less time parked in my high school's parking lot, and more
time in the drama department. Auditions were held, and
while sets were being built, people held their breaths.
The following week, call back sheets were posted. When I
walked into the drama department there was such a sea of
people around the notice, I could barely make my way
through. As people started to notice that I was standing
there, it was like the way parted for me. I stepped up to
the call back sheet and there it was as big as day - my
name for the character of Ophelia. I was the only girl in the
whole school to be called back for that role. Then from
behind me I heard the voice of my drama professor in my
ear, "Seems like we have ourselves a star."
And that's what I felt like. My counselor was right. I did
need that drama class. The exercises gave me the
courage to face myself and Hamlet made me feel like I
could do anything. I had become my own star.
