Being in the cast of West Side Story
is like living with a whole new family of friends.
Drama is your life.
Swirling, cheering, and dipping your partner while dancing Mambo.
Excitement and energy raises as you sway and skim across the floor.
Then the rumble begins.
JETS!!!
SHARKS!!!
We brawl for dominance of the West Side.
RIFF!!!
BERNARDO!!!
The intensity of the scene deepens within me.
The whole cast can sense the sadness, the joy.
By closing night performance we reminisce about the times we've had together.
It was definitely worth the time and effort we put into it.
As the curtain closes,
the message of the play is relayed to the audience,
Time to head home.
Forced back into a normal lifestyle.
Drama is over... until next year.
Dancing is soaring in midair through wispy clouds.
Toes pointed in arches,
Legs in long, stretched lines,
My body flies.
Solitary on the desolate stage,
Searching for something never discovered.
The counts cease.
I exit my escape from the world and reality.
I leave satisfied for I've tried my utmost.
Acting is traveling through your imagination,
being who you want to be.
My eyes try not to wonder over the audience
as I build a fourth wall in my mind.
I feel like a storyteller in my favorite book
or I'm in a famous Broadway production.
I love to act because I transform myself into someone
I know I'd never be in reality.
Soon the last scene is over and curtain call begins.
I take my bow in front of clapping audience
then hurry offstage to remove my costume and heavy makeup.
Dancing is an escape from academic and athletic activities,
Awakening the Irish within me,
Arms close to my body,
Feet beating to the rhythm of the music,
Legs automatically performing the dances,
My ancestors have danced before me.
The music has ceased,
Another step perfected,
I take off my dancing shoes,
Stretch out my legs,
I continue on with the rest of my day.
Playing the piano is magic for ear and soul,
Sweeping over you and taking a relaxing toll.
It puts me at ease,
Like the relief of a cool summer breeze.
I sit down at the familiar bench,
Thinking carefully and fingers clenched,
I try to not make a single mistake,
I remember all the practicing it does take.
Slowly, softly, I begin to play,
All of my troubles float away.
Nothing is said, not a word.
This is what I like best,
Just listen,
The music will tell the rest.
After a while the sound is no more.
The notes and I have settled our score.
Other pianists would wait for applause,
This isn't true with me because,
I am the only one here, the only one listening,
This is all right; inside I'm still glistening.
From the factory it came.
Brilliant brass, shining silver, elegant shape,
Similar in honor, and strength,
Proud like my father,
Gentle like my mother,
My medium to serenity and solitude,
My trumpet.
A room filled with sunlight
Eager dancers
Ready to learn the graceful steps.
One dancer sitting by herself,
Filled with mixed feelings,
Will she do well?
Will she fit in with the other dancers?
Nervous, excited
She must put that aside,
For the lesson has begun.
To read more student work go to Student Authors or go back to Ms. Smith's English Page