A production never seems to last a lifetime, but this one was different


Sophie Young

Four of the six Central Trend seniors in their graduation gowns

I spent three years rehearsing the same script: the parallels in proximity to its predecessors produced predictability. 

Everyone around me followed that script with little to no interpretation; we worked together to create the epitome of productions. 

Our foundation was created in the first year of rehearsals: a year full of doubts and questions I thought I would never learn the answer to. I knew very few people going into that first year, but the ones I did know stuck by my side through it all. 

The directors of our production welcomed us with open arms and gave me somewhere to call home. They provided me with a family that I know I’ll never forget. 

I found myself adjusting to new places, new people in that first year—it wasn’t easy, but it was worth it. 

That first year flew by, and I was no longer simply skimming the script. We began our second year of rehearsals dedicated to character development. It was a year to let our characters form their relationships. It was a year to give our characters a story, a meaning. 

It was the year I grew closest to the person that would complement my skills perfectly. 

I met her in sixth grade—the girl who would quickly become my best friend—and our contradicting characteristics combined into a single entity. 

She showed me the fascination I now have in learning, and I can only hope I helped her see that it means more to work in order to live rather than live in order to work. She became my lifeline in and out of school. 

We helped each other grow in that second year of rehearsals, and it made our final year of rehearsals unforgettable. 

As we all transitioned from our second year of rehearsals to our third, I began to panic. Our major performance was in less than a year, and I felt both prepared and terrified. I spent so long preparing for this production that I was beginning to believe it would never truly end. 

Sometimes it works, sometimes it fails, but that’s what we face when we’re dealing with improvisation.”

— Jan Garbarek

Then the unexpected happened, and the script that I had been working with for so long got thrown out of the window. My senior year turned into an improv show full of constant changes and losses. 

But I’ve always believed improv shows are the most enjoyable.

I formed connections with people I only vaguely knew before this year. 

I grew up to be someone I will forever hope my mentors are proud of. I look up to my teachers and mentors more than they will ever know, and they have created the best high school experience I could possibly imagine. 

I spend each day in awe of some of my peers who have taken on roles I could never handle: The Central Trend editors who prove that hard work pays off, the junior who stepped up as Student Director and managed to set a new standard of perfection in the theatre, my sixth-grade best friend who I know for a fact will go on to do great things. 

But most of all, I couldn’t be more proud of the people that have trained for years to take over when we leave. They are more prepared than they will ever know. 

I never got the high school production I always dreamed of, but I got an experience that no one else will ever get to say they lived. 

I still got a performance, but the improvisations were not quite what I imagine. Because “sometimes it works, sometimes it fails, but that’s what we face when we’re dealing with improvisation.”