I quietly, patiently sat on a bench inside the school’s main office waiting for my daughter. I was there for early school pick-up, as my daughter was expected to be at play rehearsal at approximately 4:30 pm. And thus, this was daily life as we rocketed with nervous excitement toward the Wizard of Oz showtime that weekend. This was the final week for rehearsals. School dismissal is at 3:30 pm, so I needed to secure my daughter before a log jam of vehicles impeded both entry and exit to the school. I could not help but silently chuckle as I overheard another parent lamenting the same hectic, accelerated time schedule for her child.
Time management was extremely critical. And thankfully some of my mother’s customs are stubbornly engrained in me – time management being one of them. Trying to pass that skill along to your child is a story on its own. Rehearsals needed to move like clockwork. Therefore, I picked my daughter up from school, got her home to plate her dinner, her mother would feverishly apply her makeup shortly thereafter, and then I would whisk her off to a nearby high school (where the play would be ultimately performed) for rehearsal.
During previous weeks, rehearsals ranged from 5:30 pm to 7:45 pm, and at least they were not every day. In between drop-off and pick-up in the evening, I would try to squeeze in a workout at Planet Fitness. If I wanted to treat myself, I took a power nap in my car for much-needed revitalization. It was then off for pickup so I could get her home for a shower and bedtime. It was not unusual to observe my daughter walking with a slight limp from rehearsal. Aside from a speaking role, she was also cast in multiple choreographed dance sequences. To be sure, it was intense. Now, apologies to the audience, I am getting slightly ahead of myself.
Allow me to take a few much-needed steps back in time. This fantastic voyage to the stage begins back in the winter of 2024. Now, my child is a product of Disney Junior programming. Dating as far back as Doc McStuffins to current favorite Bluey; my daughter’s preferred (and parental approved) channel of choice has always been Disney. Woven within the animated fabric of general television series were fantasy musicals released on the channel. Fantasy musicals such as Descendants and Zombies were a healthy contributor to my daughter’s flair for the theatrical. And since Disney Junior were not above shamelessly broadcasting reruns ad nauseam, my daughter would eagerly capture every scripted line and nuance of her favorite characters. Her memorization was amazing.
Fortuitously, an opportunity arose for her to utilize those theatrical superpowers for other than jitterbugging on her parents’ next to last nerve. That opportunity arrived in the form of a stage play being produced at her school. The opportunity flew under the radar until urgent e-mails were dispatched from the school to elicit student interest. The Disney Junior acting chops received the chance as Ava was cast in an ensemble role as a Lady-in-Waiting for the play Once Upon a Mattress.
The play is a musical comedy that reimagines the fairy tale “The Princess and the Pea”. Although my daughter did not have any speaking roles, she projected detailed facial expressions and mannerisms that gave life to her ensemble part. A robotic, lifeless ensemble cast can make for a dull experience; it is all the more I was proud of my girl performing. Once Upon a Mattress was a three-day affair, and every performance I sat front row to clap and cheer. A host of family and friends came out to support her. We were so very proud.
The next opportunity was a 2025 summer program offered by the Detroit Opera. My wife enrolled our daughter in the performing arts program Create & Perform. The program allows participants to write their own script, compose songs, and then act in their own original creation. Participants had approximately one week to write and compose their work, followed by one week of rehearsal. The result: The Magical Fishes and Their Frivolous Wishes.
This time my star had a speaking role; she played a magical fish in the ocean that granted wishes. Her performance did not disappoint. With a booming voice and tons of magical sassiness, she danced and sang across the stage waving her colorful sash to and fro. And armed with a magical bubble gun, she frolicked amongst the audience and stage granting wishes with reckless abandon. A woman sitting next to probably noticed my exuberance for this one particular performer. She leaned over and whispered, “Is that your daughter?” Brimming with internal pride, I replied, “Yes.” “She’s really good”, the lady replied. The edges of my mouth curled into a smile.
Fast-forward to fall/winter 2025 and the casting call for The Wizard of Oz was dispatched near and far to all the parents. The children had an opportunity to select two characters of choice for their audition. My daughter decided to read for the roles of Glinda the Good Witch and the Wicked Witch of the West. Now, allow me to tell you about this audition timeline. An e-mail was distributed on October 26th (Sunday). An e-mail was then distributed October 31st (Friday) for signup.
Auditions were then held November 3 (Monday) with callbacks on November 5th (Wednesday). Talk about a, ahem, wicked timeframe. Both sessions were approximately 2.5-3 hours – after school! Even for an adult, that is an extremely long day. We had no idea we were just getting started with the marathon. And so, we spent the weekend reading lines and watching the Wizard of Oz. I pulled up tutorials on cackling like a witch. Who knew there was such a thing?
Monday auditions went well; my daughter was confident she had nailed either role. Her memory is so sharp, as we were practicing, she had memorized the dialogue of both characters and would seamlessly transition between the two. My hopes were high. After the audition, she told me she received applause from the other students. My hopes rose even higher. I anxiously waited for the e-mail regarding a callback. Finally, she got the callback for Wednesday evening. I arrived at the school for parent orientation as the final audition took place down the hallway in the cafeteria.
Play fees, attendance policy, rehearsal schedules, and volunteer expectations were discussed – however – my mind was nervously drifting intently down the hallway. So, upon dismissal, I immediately Usain Bolted straight toward the cafeteria. The children were slowly filing out. My eyes erratically scanned the crowd searching for my daughter. Finally, she emerged through the double doors. Her face projected indifference. She was not chosen for either role. My tense heart hopelessly sank like an anchor; fatherly anger began to flame broil my insides.
Nevertheless, outwardly, I needed to project an aura of calm and extend unyielding support. As a father, you thoughtfully search for linings composed of silver to communicate hope. All was not lost. She was indeed selected for a speaking role. After receiving the deflating news, I curiously asked, “Well, what role did you get?” And with a slightly confused tone, my daughter replied, “Zeke.” I cannot lie; I did not know who Zeke was either. After a brief consultation with my trusted source, Google, I was duly informed that Zeke was the human counterpart to the Cowardly Lion who worked as a farmhand. So, during the drive back home, I explained that despite the fleeting disappointment, this was an excellent opportunity to have a speaking role, albeit a minor one. We would later learn that Ava would be tasked with 4 ensemble roles in addition to Zeke. The next 2 1/2 months were going to be exciting and challenging.
That following weekend, we proceeded to rehearse lines and watch more Wizard of Oz clips on YouTube. Of course, we intently focused on the farmhand Zeke to glean inspiration for Ava’s interpretation. Now, bless her little growing thespian heart, my child is truly suburban, and teaching her to speak with a farm belt accent was agonizingly hilarious. She would start with a farm-flavored twang of the tongue before hopelessly falling back into her normal, proper diction. Eventually, that plan of action was abandoned, and simply memorizing lines became the first priority. The school rehearsals were intense. The evening rehearsals ranged from 2-3 times a week and lasted 2 hours or more. And outside of school rehearsals, students were expected to practice daily for a minimum of 15-20 minutes at home. The results: abbreviated nights of sleep, sore feet, and aching ankles. Soon, however, the hard work would be well worth the effort.
Now, for the past few years, winters have been extremely mild here in Michigan. The requirement of snow removal had become almost nonexistent. So, I feel we were perhaps owed a past-due balance of blustery temperatures and copious amounts of snow. The inevitable school cancellations led to rehearsals being rescheduled with extended practices. Commutes became a little more adventurous, as Michigan drivers will blow a stop sign on icy pavement and won’t even blink. Still, the time was drawing near. And then, Polar Vortex 2026 was forecast to hit us on Friday. And what followed was yet another school cancellation, which coincidentally occurred on the same day as opening night. A furious flurry of e-mails and text messages started flying. A pivot was incoming.
The Friday evening show was cancelled and moved to Saturday. Wait, but there was already a Saturday show scheduled. Well, that only meant a morning show AND an afternoon show were to be performed. As I picked Ava up from the final rehearsal, I could hear the student grumblings in the chilled air. A very, very long day awaited the performers. A double performance. An entire day of acting, dancing, and singing. It would be a musical marathon of Munchkin madness. The night before, Ava attempted to secure a good night of rest. Nonetheless, I could hear her tossing and turning throughout the night in the adjacent bedroom. Heck, I was restless as well. The morning soon arrived. I served up wheat toast with sunflower seed butter, sausage links, and sliced apples for a power breakfast. After breakfast, she vaulted upstairs for her makeup session with my wife. I gathered snacks and loaded her performance gear in the car, and off into the Polar Vortex we went.
I dropped off the girl and then drove home to pick up the rest of the family. Arriving at the high school again, we filed into the auditorium and found our seats – second row, right in front of the stage. We spotted family and friends dispersed throughout the crowd. Many friends and family braved the frigid cold and snow to show support. Grandparents, aunts, great-aunts, Godmother, cousins, neighbors, and sorority sisters (Alpha Kappa Alpha) of my wife came out to show love. Soon it was showtime. A live, slow instrumental to Over the Rainbow began to permeate the auditorium. In the darkened auditorium, the student portraying Dorothy soon was spotlighted alongside the aisle as she walked slowly toward the stage. My nerves began to heighten.
The opening scene was underway. I nervously waited for my daughter to make her dramatic (at least dramatic in my head) appearance. It was not long until she emerged onstage in her farmer’s attire, pushing a wheelbarrow. Injecting her own flavor into the role of Zeke, she delivered her lines with confidence and dramatic style. My eyes began to mildly water, but I retained my composure and soldiered through the first act with a dry, if not proud, face. Scenes transitioned, choreographed dances lit up the stage, and melodic songs echoed throughout the auditorium. And then it was over. First performance in the books, one more to go. Energized by lunch from Chicken Shack and a brief 2-hour intermission, it was time for the second performance. With possibly nerves and anxiety settled down, the second performance was better than the first. More energy. More nuance. More presence.
In the aftermath, Ava indicated that this was by far her favorite play to participate in at school. She was able to make new friends and learn exciting dances. She loved that each performer had the other’s back. When a fellow performer forgot a line, my daughter was able to think quickly on her feet and deftly improvise dialogue, so the scene did not awkwardly stall. Ava was tasked with 5 roles: Zeke, a Munchkin teacher, an Ozian, a Winkie, and Jitterbug. So, as expected, the costume changes between scenes were fast and furious. Nevertheless, Ava was able to seamlessly transition to her scenes without missing a step. And speaking of steps, the Jitterbug was her favorite dance sequence. A deleted scene from the movie, it is a swing-style dance number that has the Wicked Witch sending little bugs to infect our heroes with an insatiable urge to dance until exhausted. I must have been infected as well, because that song hung inside my head at least a few days after the musical was over.
The end of the second performance was bittersweet. It was a memorable journey, but this guy was tired. During the first few months of rehearsals, my son’s basketball league ran concurrently during the week. The tandem of play rehearsals, basketball practice, and basketball games made for a very hectic collection of months. I will be writing about that adventure as well. My son has become a basketball addict. So, I asked Ava if she had any advice for fellow students who were thinking about participating in a play. Here are some amateur tips below. Thanks for reading. I’ll see you all next time, somewhere over the rainbow, enjoying warmer weather.
Advice from Ava
- A performer should watch videos with a focus on acting. Watching a lot of musicals would be beneficial as well.
- It is helpful to study and memorize lines that do not belong to your character.
- Practice your dance moves.
- Vocal warm-ups and singing
- Build up your courage.
