Personal Narrative: Alex Lacamoire

One day I was in class and a tornado erupted 17 miles away. Alex Ogle and William Burnett went outside with me and somebody came by and picked us up and dropped us off on an island. We were stranded on an island. We were safe until the tornado was over.

Lauren Rezac- My weekend did not really start off to exciting. Right after my Fast-Pitch game I was picked up by my dad in our 1962 jeep. When we got home we had supper and we all stayed up for a little bit and went to bed. On Saturday I had the house to myself, my dad was helping our neighbors while my mom and sister were in ST.Cloud.So When I was at home I was pretty bored so I did what most bored kids I know would do turn up the music and make a little mess, basically I made slime. When mom and Alexis came back my sister got a call from my dad to go help out so I went with her.I helped by steering the tractor when she got bored and she did the speed and stuff like that. On Sunday we gave mom her gifts then we got ready to trapshooting me

Professor Wolf is the author of Changed for Good: A Feminist History of the Broadway Musical (Oxford University Press, 2011), A Problem Like Maria: Gender and Sexuality in the American Musical (University of Michigan Press, 2002), and the co-editor of The Oxford Handbook of the American Musical (with Raymond Knapp and Mitchell Morris, 2011). She has published articles on theatre spectatorship, performance pedagogy, and musical theatre. Professor Wolf also oversees the Lewis Center’s Music Theater Lab and has experience as a director and dramaturg. Wolf holds a B.A. in English from Yale and an M.A. in Drama from the University of Virginia. She received her Ph.D. in Theatre from the University of Wisconsin-Madison. Recent publications include

Above all, I wouldn’t be where I am today without theatre. Without the chance to perform throughout my life, I would be disconnected from the wide array of communities and histories that’s been imbedded in my daily routine. Unfortunately, it’s speculated that the theatre is a dying art form, because of the expanding popularities of movies (“Is”), but I think that it’ll remain a well renowned part of expressing imagination and interpreting history as years pass; it only takes cooperation with school faculty and young students that go above and beyond to change their

At the age of eight, my mother took me on a trip to New York City. On it, I saw the Lin Manuel-Miranda show In the Heights. Unlike my eight-year-old self, my mother loved performing arts, and she occasionally played CD’s from musicals in the car, which I groaned about. Given this, it is not hard to imagine I was less excited than the average person to see a broadway show; however, when my mother mentioned, “Chad from High School Musical is in it,” I perked up. As I walked into the theatre, my attitude improved again from the astonishingly vast house, filled with endless rows of red, velvet chairs leading towards an expansive stage trimmed with gold. Nevertheless, I still did not appreciate the opportunity to witness a Tony Award-winning musical, as I would in three hours. When the lights dimmed, the whole theatre fell silent, yet still buzzed with anticipation.

As we dressed for the show, my thoughts were flooded with images and ideas. We descended the hotel stairs, hailed a taxi, and arrived at the theatre; while I remained in a pleasant daze. My first impression of the Nederlander met and exceeded all my expectations. I had envisioned an old theater, forgotten by the Broadway elite. As we walked to the door, we were able to see the wall signed by the cast and photos of the premier. The theater itself had a rundown feel to it and left you with the distinct impression that the magic was within the walls and on stage. As we entered the doors, I soaked in every thing. Our seats were located in the center, orchestra section, which gave us a perfect view of all the action.

Although I believe in my mom expressing her own opinions and respecting others ideas, I must let it be known that I strongly believe in Broadway. To me, the theatre is a safe space,

I never thought I would be labeled an outsider, a misfit even. As I trudged my way through the halls of my small town high school, I would endure the gazing pairs of eyes, that belonged to my peers, followed by whispering and often times some laughter. I always used zone out during those repetitive speeches and commercials about the effects of gossiping and rumors; never did I imagine that one day I would be on the receiving end of of the everyday potshot. Growing up I was always the center of attention, the one everyone yearned to be friends with, never was I the antisocial child in the corner with nowhere to turn… not until high school. They say high school changes you. They say high school accounts for some of the greatest years of

I left my castle without my wife and children. I regret not taking them, but it is too late to turn back now. I will have to depend on Ross. After all, he is my cousin by marriage, and my Lady’s cousin by blood. Surely, he will not let anything happen to them. Oh, how I miss them!

When I was young my Dad would always remind me of how important these years as a kid are. He would always say watch how you act as a kid, for it will set the stage for the rest of your life. So many people I know ruined their lives when they were kids. This small, yet so important statement runs through my mind everyday. I love how everyone says they don’t care what people think of them, but I wish they knew how important it is to have a good image. I am not perfect, but I would like to be close as possible. But as Salvador Dali said “Have no fear of perfection, you’ll never reach it. “ The problem I see is everyone wanting to be someone that they are not. Sure, we all have our idols that we look

Madame Defarge exited the tavern and made her way towards the Manette household. There were so many emotions going through her. Rage, panic, lust, and even a bit of fear.

On April 10th, 11th, and 12th, Anchorage Opera performed a modernized rendition of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s last opera; The Magic Flute (1791). The cast consisted of quite a few local performers as well as guest appearances from acclaimed artists such as Branch Fields and Michael Scarcelle. On the 11th, I attended the evening production accompanied by my music “hating” (her words, not mine) mother. She was such a good sport until we found ourselves in the balcony seating of the Discovery Theatre, in the front row, which was nauseating when you looked down (she’s not a fan of heights.) Albeit the discomfort, our seats provided us with a bird’s eye view of both the orchestra and stage.

Growing up with a father in the military, you move around a lot more than you would like to. I was born just east of St. Louis in a city called Shiloh in Illinois. When I was two years old my dad got the assignment to move to Hawaii. We spent seven great years in Hawaii, we had one of the greatest churches I have ever been to name New Hope. New Hope was a lot like Olivet's atmosphere, the people were always friendly and there always something to keep someone busy. I used to dance at church, I did hip-hop and interpretive dance, but you could never tell that from the way I look now.

The excited chatter of the audience lowers as the lights dim. Suddenly, you are enveloped in quiet anticipation.The red velvet wall in front of you parts and spotlights appear as you fly to Neverland or watch Hamilton and Aaron Burr duel. When the lights go up, thunderous clapping breaks the silence. You have been given a glimpse into a world that is not yours, however, the characters on the stage feel more like family than your aunt that comes for Thanksgiving dinner and you are almost euphoric that the villain got his comeuppance as the hero prevailed.

I stood behind the curtains that framed the auditorium’s stage like red velvet hair on a doll, and peeked around. The tall dim lit room brimming with red chairs, was beginning to fill up, so many people and faces, all here to see a dinky middle school play. But to me it wasn’t “a dinky middle school play”, it was my life, it was a project I had been working on for months and although every line was memorized, every motion set in stone, I felt ill prepared. The lights beaming onstage were so bright that from the sidelines I could feel their heat and my makeup had begun to smear. It wasn’t the lights alone although, I felt my own heat radiate from my body, another group of faces piled into the auditorium, my