When I applied to be a counselor at theatre camp, my friends warned: You’ll be listening to Italian brainrot the whole summer! They’re iPad kids! Do you know what you’re getting yourself into!? They had a point– I never expected to work with kids so worldly, empathetic, and brilliant. At camp, I was committed to making sure no camper felt othered. I researched their interests like therianthropy, Revolutionary War battles, and My Singing Monsters in my free time– and saw them light up when I asked them questions. I complimented kids’ wolf howls, monster impressions, and expertise about who really carried on Paul Revere’s message. The greatest part of that summer was watching those same kids gain the confidence to make friends. Seeing them so self-assured and independent told me how much you can empower a student by taking an active interest in who they are outside of the curriculum. That summer at theatre camp drew me closer to theatre, and made me realize the impact I want to achieve as I study to become a theatre educator. I believe that the transformative power of art allows students to truly break out of their shells. Theatre is a world in which mistakes, silliness, and authenticity are valued. Theatre gives students the confidence to be their authentic selves. The greatest benefit of theatre, though, in my opinion, is the connection and support that it provides. Making a show is a challenge that pushes students to work together— and the payoff, as they learn, is enormous. I’ve found that students make friends in their cast or production team that they may have never talked to otherwise. Even if a kid has an interest in theatre just for a moment, they still learn crucial skills, make friends, build confidence, and have fun while doing it. As a biracial transgender person, theatre, for me, was an isolating experience— like doing what I thought I loved was an uphill battle, while my peers thrived and found community. I was pushed to change myself to be seen as “castable”--- straightening my hair, closeting myself, and all the while getting zero traction. It was the ostracization I faced in the past, combined with my love for education, that has instead pushed me to make the stage a place of joy, rather than a place someone has to hide away. As I teach, I want to eliminate biases in theatre to turn into what art should be— a tool of liberation. It’s that empowerment that I seek to extend to my students. I want to become a theatre educator because, most of all, I love to see students uplifted by art. The Kay Sykes Scholarship would allow me to build connections in the community through its future— students. Ultimately, my goal as I teach is to inspire students to try what they didn’t think was possible— to allow them to discover the joy of storytelling, and help them find themselves along the way.

It occurred to me, after scrolling through the 30th production of Grease in a row with a leather-clad Olivia Newton-John lookalike in the thumbnail, that few directors are able to create a successful revival. In trying to unpack the misogyny of the 1978 movie that was turned into a libretto and subsequently copied by high schools for decades in a bad game of Telephone, I found the origin of the musical— a parody of 1950s moral PSAs with a rock n’ roll twist, first performed in a trolley barn in 1971. What is now criticized for its misogyny actually started as a subversion of a popular trope— in which a rebel changes for a good-hearted leading lady, which is flipped on its head in Grease as Sandy, rather than Danny, is transformed. As a historian and dramaturg, I had to wonder— where did we lose the plot? How did the bold, raunchy 1972 ensemble of teenagers living in Chicago, many of them second-generation Polish immigrants (see: leading lady Sandy Dumbrowski, class nerd Eugene Florczyk) degrade into a sorry imitation of 1950s adolescence portrayed by 30-year-olds? The tragedy that is our modern perception of Grease is a product of looking at a piece of theatre through only one lense. Seeing this art from an actor, technician, musician, or writer’s point of view alone is what drags it into transcience— it staying in one point in time, and only having the ability to connect for one kind of audience. This is why I believe that theatre students benefit from a well-rounded liberal arts education more than anyone. As a director, I want a cast who is able to think beyond the text and off the stage— I want not just actors, but historians, instrumentalists, visual artists, and playwrights— people who are able to understand a piece of theatre on all fronts. Live theatre has the gift of having all facets of creativity— writing, music, and visual art. When these are paired with an awareness of the true message and relevancy of the show— which always requires some historical research— a team of theatremakers are able to create something that captivates and inspires an audience. In a few minutes browsing through a museum website for some historical context, a costume or set design choice may become richer and more intentional— which gets the audience invested, too. Theatre is a joint effort between a production team, actors, technicians, and an audience to create art that means something, whatever that meaning may be. Something that is key to creating theatre is the idea that nothing is safe from a renewal or a revival— like the Amendments, the context a work is in can shift by the day— and should be able to adapt to what an audience needs to take away from a piece. A good piece of theatre extends its reach from the stage to the hearts and minds of the audience. It should evoke deep emotions, and a call to action— which is only possible with the work of the arts and humanities in tandem to pack that kind of punch. As someone also committed to the studies of anthropology, creative writing, and literature, these other disciplines allow me to better understand the idea that theatre is the true study of humans— how the way we move and tell stories helps us connect with each other. As an aspiring designer and director, I want to reach an audience’s soul— and having a full-bodied education is what supports that.