In Texas, public and public charter high school extracurriculars are headed by UIL. For sports, academics, and theater (One-Act Play), there are five conferences - 1A through 5A, categorized by the size of the school - and five possible levels of competition: Zone, District, Area, Regionals, and State. Competition is set up tournament style - for UIL One-Act Play, two schools out of the four to eight competing are chosen to go onto the next level of competition.

A few weeks ago, I posted that 'Alice in Wonderland: The Manhattan Project Version' was doing it's first two public performances. Those days have passed, as have two levels of competition. On April 5th, we took our play to District. One director, one bus driver, ten actors/actresses, five crew heads (myself included), three alternates, and a bus-full of multicolored furniture and costumes arrived at Mabank, TX. We're a little 2A school without our own stage, or light and sound equipment. We built our unit set pieces and costumes from scratch. And, even with a technical error that would've crippled us in later stages of competition*, we advanced on.

_{* The technical error was not on us. The school that had performed before us muted the sound board following their show, and did not tell the supervising technician what they'd done. When we went on, we didn't know that the sound was muted until Alice's highly choreographed 'fall' down the rabbit hole was unaccompanied by music. By the time they figured out what was wrong, the fall was over and there were a lot of very confused, upset people on and offstage. The supervising technician reported the incident to the contest manager, who told the judge, who was amazing enough to not count it against us. The school that did that to us ended up taking third place in District - they served as an alternate, but did not advance. I don't think they liked us very much anyway. Oh well. Hater's gon' hate.}

Yesterday, we went to our Area competition at Denison, and rocked it. We knew from the start that we were the underdogs, and the school we had to share a dressing/holding building with made sure that we felt it. Every time we walked through the doors, they'd give us either a dirty look or a condescending smile. Why? I don't know. We're one of the most friendly, affectionate, quirky theater departments in the state. We make friends everywhere we go. We even made a pact with the other advancing school in our district that we'd cheer each other on at Area, and that we'd win for each other. But still, we got the stares. Maybe it's because we're from the other side of the Metroplex. But whatever. The point is, we kicked butt. We advanced to Regionals, with the school that made a point of making us feel unwelcome. So y'all mad now?

So we're going to Stephenville next, and making history for our school's theatre department. Where I go to school, the Fine Arts get little to no respect, from anybody. Seriously. The golf team gets more recognition than we do. Golf. But it's whatever. Regionals is Regionals.

Anyway. I'd just like to take a moment to express how proud I am, of our entire One-Act group. We're the little charter school that could. I can honestly say we literally threw ourselves at this play. Every hour of table work, sketching, painting, sewing, making lists, and horribly painful yoga stretches was worth this. Why? Not just because we're making history. Not just because we're winning. But because we're a loud, obnoxious family of 19 (our director included, we gotta have a mama) and we're having tons of fun with what we do. Even if we don't advance to State, we can honestly say that we've done our best and that we've had fun doing it.

Now here comes the bittersweet part -  because our Light tech failed Spanish for a six weeks, he is ineligible to compete at Regionals. Our director has asked me to step in for him, despite my never having touched a light board in my life. One of the alternates, a Hair and Makeup stylist, is going to take over Props and Set and the general running of things backstage - she's never been backstage during a competition because alternates aren't allowed there by UIL rules. It's a frightening thought, knowing that we have less than a week to become experts in fields completely foreign to us, for a competition with such high stakes.

On top of that, our director mentioned something that really struck home with me yesterday. After our show, we returned to our dressing room and did our little huddle before the critiques and awards ceremony. During her little post-show motivation speech, she told us that levels of trust between all of us was incredible. None of us had ever noticed it before, but she's right - there is a complicated web of faith that keeps us functioning. The actors trust each other during their stunts and jumps and rolls. Us crew members trust each other to problem solve and keep the show going. The actors trust us to take care of them, and we trust them to do their very best out there. Thinking about it now, she's right - it really is incredible that we're willing to put so much faith in each other.

With that said, I've come to a bit of an epiphany about my situation. I trust my director's judgement. I trust the Stage Manager to keep her cool. I trust the alternate to take care of business backstage, to help the actors and our Costume head. I trust the Costume head to be patient with the alternate and help her out, just as she did with me during my first show. But trust is a two-way thing. Our Light tech is going to remain attached to my side right until we're called to the stage, telling me what I need to know and instructing me. He's the best lights guy I know, and he's trusting me to take over for now. My director and our Stage Manager both trust me to put in the effort to know the light board and do my best in the booth on competition day. Our alternate is trusting me to teach her everything she needs to know.

As for the cast? They trust me as their set designer, prop handler, and their running crew backstage. If there's something wrong with a set piece or with the stage dimensions, my name is the first one called to come fix things. I make sure their clothes are laid out and ready for quick changes while Costumes is tied up on Stage Left. I preset their props, direct the set-up and strike periods, keep things clean backstage, and I'm on constant standby with a head lamp, safety pins, bobby pins, tape, a level head, and a word of reassurance. When the competition day comes, I want them to be able to trust our alternate to do the same.

I want them to be able to trust me in the booth, too. I don't expect to be the level-headed lighting genius that our current tech is, but I want to do things right. I don't want to disappoint my director, my crew, my cast and alternates. Right now, I wouldn't trust me, either. I personally don't trust me as a Lights tech. But I want to change that. I've listened to hundreds of motivational speeches, but nothing will motivate me more than the need to support my friends and family. In this case, they're both. I will not disappoint them.

Okay, I'm done venting. Mocha love, guys. Pray for us.