(Enter a cafeteria in Hastings Elementary School, where lines of nervous children amble into the space. Coming in to watch, ELIZA sits on a lunch table and addresses the audience.) ELIZA When I first started doing theater I was in fifth grade, auditioning for Mary Poppins Jr. in a grimy cafeteria. To make us less nervous, the teachers had put a large whiteboard in the center of the room, so that the person auditioning wouldn't need to perform in front of a crowd. Instead, they would stand behind the whiteboard, singing directly in front of Ms. Jacques The Music Teacher, who claimed she would retire every year but never did. I remember thinking, “Why is this whiteboard here? It’s not like there will be a whiteboard between us and the audience during the actual performance. I mean, I hope not.” (ELIZA leaves the cafeteria.) ELIZA As I continued performing, I realized why that whiteboard bothered me so much. It was because the whole point of theater is to put yourself out of your comfort zone, to eventually be able to create a performance that makes audiences cry, or gasp, or laugh. Yet going through middle school, I never really internalized that I wanted to go into theater. Tense feelings about making a living off of such an unstable career lingered in the air, and I couldn’t escape. TENSE FEELING 1 You can never really do this, Eliza. TENSE FEELING 2 Enjoy it while it lasts. What are you gonna do for your real job? TENSE FEELING 3 I’ll bet she’ll be a chemist. Hey Eliza! Why don’t you tell me the atomic number of Zinc? ELIZA It was not until high school that I began developing a more cohesive vision for my work. (Enter a Black Box Theater. A class sits in a circle, typing rhythmically on their computers. ELIZA enters silently.) ELIZA Welcome to my first day of Playwriting and Directing. Little did I know that in that Black Box I would discover my intense love for playwriting, especially how I could transform something in my head into something bigger. By the next year I was directing my original play Long Kitty, where a stuffed animal cat tries to take over a summer camp. After seeing actors bring new life to the characters I had thought up late at night, I was forever in love with the transition from writing to the stage. As a playwright, I understand that my job is to get rid of the whiteboards. To remove any gap between audience and artist so that audiences can feel inspired by the work I have made. To let audiences experience something without needing to hold back any emotion, whether it be joy, laughter, or even nervousness. MS. JACQUES (entering) It was my idea, okay? Can you lay off the whiteboard metaphor? ELIZA What if I don't want to? MS. JACQUES Listen to your elders, girl. ELIZA Bother someone else. I'm busy explaining why I want to pursue theater to a scholarship panel. MS. JACQUES Why do you? ELIZA (stepping into a spotlight) Because of that feeling when you're typing on your keyboard. You witness these words filling the screen, and suddenly you can see them filling a theater. The words transform into characters, into set designs, into an entirely new reality. It takes my breath away. MS. JACQUES You're not going to make any money, you know. ELIZA That's why I'm applying for the scholarship. MS. JACQUES Might as well buy a lottery ticket. ELIZA How’d you even get here, anyway? MS. JACQUES I retired. (Blackout.)

Tucked away in my grandparents’ APARTMENT in New York City, I eyed a bookshelf that was coated with incomprehensible layers of dust across the BEDROOM. Rubbing my tired morning eyes, I slunk out of bed and practically CRAWLED my way over. I knew not to expect much, since my grandparents were keen to poring over books about law that were riddled with DULL, long words. “The Know It All.” I EYED the FADED title on the spine and smiled. The book sounded GREATLY narcissistic. But I knew that wouldn’t be the case. It HAD to be on someone who just knew a lot about law. Or INVESTMENTS. Or boredom. Right? Wrong. The Know-It-All, I found, would become one of the most JARRINGLY funny books I have ever read. The reader is thrown into A.J. Jacob’s quest to read the entire Encyclopedia Britannica, from “a-ak” to “zywiec”. His goal? To KNOW everything. To become the smartest person in the world. And, most importantly, to show off what he LEARNED at every opportunity. I found MYSELF drawn to The Know-It-All because it is hilarious for a purpose. In high school, expectations can be NAUSEATINGLY high. In Lexington Public Schools, a B is a failing grade, an A- is far from OKAY, and an A is average. In this environment that expects PERFECTION, we somehow confuse grades with intelligence. "I got a bad grade", we say, "I’m not smart". But with his ridiculous QUEST, A.J. Jacobs teaches readers that REAL intelligence is about love for knowledge. While his motivations may seem SELF-ABSORBED, we come to understand that knowledge is THRILLING for Jacobs. He simply cannot help sharing that a text UNDER 49 pages does not qualify as a book, and that Arabian horses have twenty-three VERTEBRAE. WHEN we apply to scholarships, we often try to prove ourselves to be “the smartest”, flaunting our GPAs, SAT scores, and whatever else we can find in our XEROXED resumes. But in the end, it’s all pretty trivial. We’re all know-it-alls in our own ways, with our unique passions, academic strengths, and YOUTHFUL determination. What really matters is if we are laughing along the way. That is why I believe everyone in the world should read "The Know-It-All". To realize that even encyclopedias with a ZILLION dull terms have to potential to be hilarious.

(Enter a cafeteria in Hastings Elementary School, where lines of nervous children amble into the space. Coming in to watch, ELIZA sits on a lunch table and addresses the audience.) ELIZA When I first started doing theater I was in fifth grade, auditioning for Mary Poppins Jr. in a grimy cafeteria. To make us less nervous, the teachers had put a large whiteboard in the center of the room, so that the person auditioning wouldn't need to perform in front of a crowd. Instead, they would stand behind the whiteboard, singing directly in front of Ms. Jacques The Music Teacher, who claimed she would retire every year but never did. I remember thinking, “Why is this whiteboard here? It’s not like there will be a whiteboard between us and the audience during the actual performance. I mean, I hope not.” (ELIZA leaves the cafeteria.) ELIZA As I continued performing, I’ve realized why that whiteboard bothered me so much. It was because the whole point of theater is to put yourself out of your comfort zone, to eventually be able to create a performance that makes audiences cry, or gasp, or laugh. Yet going through middle school, I never really internalized that I wanted to go into theater. Tense feelings about making a living off of such an unstable career lingered in the air, and I couldn’t escape. TENSE FEELING 1 You can never really do this, Eliza. TENSE FEELING 2 Enjoy it while it lasts. What’re you going to do for your real job? TENSE FEELING 3 I’ll bet she’ll be a chemist. Hey Eliza! Why don’t you tell me the atomic number of Zinc? ELIZA It was not until high school that I began developing a more cohesive vision for my work. (Enter a Black Box Theater. A class sits in a circle, typing rhythmically on their computers. ELIZA enters silently.) ELIZA Welcome to my first day of Playwriting and Directing. Little did I know that in that Black Box I would discover my intense love for playwriting, especially how I could transform something in my head into something bigger. By the next year I was directing my original play Long Kitty, where a stuffed animal cat tries to take over a summer camp. After seeing actors bring new life to the characters I had thought up late at night, I was forever in love with the transition from writing to the stage. As a playwright, I understand that my job is to get rid of the whiteboards. To remove any gap between audience and artist so that audiences can feel inspired by the work I have made. To let them experience something without needing to hold back any emotion, whether it be joy, laughter, or even nervousness. MS. JACQUES (entering) It was my idea, okay? I’m sorry! Can you lay off the whiteboard metaphor now? ELIZA How did you get here?! MS. JACQUES I retired. (Blackout.)