Editor’s Note

For an overachieving, yet shy, kid, there are few things scarier than 1) being bad at something and 2) having to do said something in front of other people. So, given that I was one of those aforementioned kids, it’s probably not surprising that I never really got into acting.

Around elementary school age, I did dip my toes a few times into the world of theatre, encouraged and/or facilitated by my parents. Audiences in my hometown were treated to performances of the play “The Wind in the Willows” and the musical “Dear Edwina Jr.,” both of which featured me in some bottom-of-the-cast-list role, and neither of which particularly ignited a love of theatre in me. Don’t get me wrong — there’s nothing wrong with roles with less dialogue or stage time. Ten-year-old me just didn’t know that.

So, for the next roughly nine years of my life, I didn’t give much thought to acting or theatre, really. I had decided it wasn’t for me, something I wasn’t good at and would never be confident enough to do. There were other things I was better at anyways.

So if you’d told six-year-old me that I would end up auditioning for the Dartmouth Department of Theater’s MainStage play, I probably would have been quite confused.

How did I get here?

In my senior year of high school, I auditioned for my school’s production of “Mamma Mia!” I loved the music, I loved singing and thought it would be nice to try something new my last semester of high school, and it was — I had a blast in the ensemble. At this point, though, I loved musical theatre for the music much more than the theatre, so really, I did it for ABBA. 

Fast forward to Dartmouth, where I started performing in and accompanying for musical theatre cabarets, music directing, playwriting and taking theatre classes. Somewhere along the way, I fell in love with theatre itself — the art of telling stories live, where magic is not just allowed, it’s almost expected.

When I found out audition sign-ups were open for the department’s fall production of “The Cherry Orchard,” a play by Anton Chekhov and adapted by Benedict Andrews, I immediately considered doing it, for various reasons: I loved the community aspect of working on a show, I knew I would benefit immensely as a musical theatre writer from the experience of acting and I thought I had learned enough about acting from watching and working with actors the last few years to do somewhat of a good job and to know that I would enjoy it.

But perhaps most importantly, it is my last year at Dartmouth. If I didn’t at least give it a shot now, when else would I get the chance to work on a show led by theatre professionals of the highest caliber?

So I auditioned, and on Sunday morning, I woke up to a delightful surprise: a cast list with my name on it, and with that, proof that I was at least somewhat good enough at something I thought could never be for me.

During our first read-through on Monday night, however, I felt a little imposter syndrome, looking around at all the other actors — most, if not all, of whom were highly experienced in acting. I may have acquired some skills by watching others do it, but I had little to no experience myself, and was nowhere near great at it yet. Acting also happens to be a particularly scary thing to be not great at, considering the whole point is that people are watching you do it.

But I’m so glad I’ve reached a point where I’m not only okay with not being great at something, but I’m okay with not being great in front of other people, because it’s worth it. I now get the chance to work with and learn from an incredible cast and creative team, to get my costume professionally tailored to fit me, to study my character and know them inside and out. I get the chance to learn, to get better.

As a senior, nearly everything I do now is something I have considerable experience and skill in, whether I’m TA-ing for a music theory class for the second time or editing for this wonderful section of The Dartmouth. To get to be a beginner again is more thrilling than I thought it would be, and I don’t want to ever stop seeking out the opportunity to do so.

This week in Mirror, one writer spotlights a fixture of Dartmouth’s campus that most students pass by at least once a day, but few know the inner workings of: the information booth on the Green. Our “Freak of the Week” relationship columnists make their return, weighing in on whether asking a past romantic interest’s friend out is “homie hopping” or not.

Happy Week 2, Mirror! May you all embrace your own beginnings this term, whatever form they take.