Almost 19 years ago this May, I graduated from East Carolina University’s School of Theatre and Dance with a concentration in design and production. Before that official day, I was required to participate in what is termed “senior review.” The purpose is to allow one last critique of a graduating senior’s work, thereby ensuring that a well-prepared portfolio is in hand, and provide an opportunity to say goodbye to those who helped guide me through my college career.

On that occasion, I was asked if I had any questions for my mentors. I had struggled č and still do č with the concept of loving theatre. I enjoy the work and get excited over elements of creativity, design, execution and performance, but never to the degree that I felt my life would have less meaning if I was not a part of the theatrical world. In that meeting, I exposed my fear for the first time: I clearly lacked an emotional connection to what I believed was an emotion-driven profession. After a few seconds č what felt like minutes č of silence, my teachers all laughed as if on cue. They then expressed experiencing the same challenge themselves at one time or another through out their career. Essentially, what it came down to was that I was OK, at least to them, at that time.

Why am I replaying this scene now? The past two Saturdays, Patch Clark, theater education professor at ECU, facilitated youth workshops in the Turnage Theater, utilizing students in the Theatre for Youth Program. This past weekend, the workshops were conducted by her students so that they could pursue internships with professional youth-theater organizations. I was so impressed with their confidence and poise with the youngsters and the family members who came to watch their children perform the scenes that they had worked so hard on that morning. After the children left and only Patch and her students remained, we were standing on the stage and I said to them, “Tell me what today meant to you.” All the faces brightened with smiles as they shared their sense of reaffirmation that they had made the right decision to pursue a life in the arts.

I hope these students realize their dreams, and I hope their experience at the Turnage will carry them onward when they may have doubts. I hope they will reflect and remember the smiles and wide eyes they helped facilitate as the youngsters made their way up the steps and onto the stage. I hope they get the chance to work in a facility not only as beautiful as the Turnage, but as open and comforting as this theater has been to me.

On that last day of my senior year, I met with my dearest friend and constant teacher, Leonard Darby, to play our last round of tennis before I would try to make my mark in this world. Leonard addressed my questions and concerns in typical Darby fashion: he reassured me I would be fine and that I might want to give life a chance before I count out any signs of my own passion.

I can say with all humility that, besides my family, I have never worked so hard for one thing as I have for the Turnage. Theatre means excitement, challenges and change (like the moving of the Senior Choreography Showcase to April 19 at 7 p.m.), and I invite you to experience these sensations with me here at the Turnage Theater.