This year has awarded me so many eye-opening experiences, hysterical memories, and life-changing stories that it is a challenging task to choose just one. LaChrisha arrived at my desk with a pumpkin (so huge our Head of School had trouble carrying it) when a peer-pressured student defaced one I had bought for the classroom. Allen, an emotionally-challenged fifth grader, who adamantly refused to speak to adults, took my hand, guided me to a chess board, and began rattling off rules of the game when I mentioned to the class I had never played. Billy Gaines, a small, bright-eyed boy, who literally lit up a room when he smiled, quietly asked to speak to me, his hands trembling and lips quivering. I led him to my desk where he disclosed he'd been misbehaving because he hadn't seen his mother since December 23rd (it was well into March by then) when some people came to the house and took her away because she spent night after night in her bedroom with dozens of men, smoking out of "a metal thing". Oh, so much laughter, so much pain has graced me this year. I have loved every moment.

An experience that will undoubtedly remain with me forever was our end-of-the-year Talent Showcase. I spent four years after college as an actor in New York City until the horror of September 11th urged me to, as many affected by that morning were, to "do something more with my life." Through something way beyond me or my power, I landed at Academy Prep Center of Tampa, working for AmeriCorps as a drama teacher for ninety dollars a week. I taught thirty students who were so jaded by the projects they lived in, the public schools they previously attended, and their dysfunctional and unstable lives, that I wondered how someone coming from Fashion Week and Soap Opera auditions could simply relate to or converse with them. Teaching them to find their creative center and get up on stage was a whole different matter altogether.

So, like any other rational being entering the complete unknown with minimal teaching experience, I eased them gently into the thespian process - with Shakespeare. Many asked me if I was insane. Our Head of School looked repeatedly worried. It was our first production at a brand new school in a not-yet-built auditorium. News cameras and reporters often wandered the halls and would, if desperate, use the production as a story. Tampa's Mayor was coming. Many wealthy donors and corporations might pop by to see what their millions of dollars were financing. And the crazy drama teacher, directing students who had never performed and who herself hadn't performed Shakespeare until college, thought attempting "The Bard" with eleven year olds was a fabulous idea. Why?........I asked myself that repeatedly, along with many others. But why not? Isn't that why we were here? To hold these kids to a standard not expected of them, to trust that when we raise the bar, they will rise above it? To RESPECT them enough to BELIEVE that they can meet and exceed our expectations?

The following months were an array of long rehearsals, whining students and utter confusion. Not only was I insisting my students write and perform a rap about Shakespeare's life, re-write and perform a scene from Romeo and Juliet, and perform a by-the-book scene from Macbeth, but technical madness had ensued. We had trouble receiving our side curtains, which would make all nervous, giggling, poking, crying actors backstage seen by all. We feared we'd have no stage lights, thus we'd be forced to use the blinding, flood light monstrosities we used for the Christmas concert, which caused the dear children to see bright, white spots for the length of their holiday vacations. And, approximately one week before show time, our beautiful new building suffered a massive flood due to a faulty sprinkler system, causing the floor and ceiling of the auditorium to be covered in moldy, smelly holes and be fettered with gigantic green fans which roared so loud one feared an earthquake was imminent. Yet the students trudged on, memorizing lines, helping with costumes, rapping their little hearts out.

The night of the show came and we were met with the regular pre-performance craziness. Michael hadn't shown yet. Genesis, a frequent projectile vomiter, had a belly ache. Waly was in the corner repeatedly hyper-ventilating then beginning her meditation exercises. I took too long rambling on during our pre-show pep talk, and as we were supposed to be going on-stage, I realized none of the nine witches were wearing their hats that cost us $15.00 each. And through all the madness, I kept thinking of the audience. What if they didn't get it? None of these students had seen a play, much less heard of Shakespeare before the year began. A few of their parents couldn't read very well. And I expected them to sit through a performance highlighting the somewhat boring history of some dead man and listening to prattlings of "Double, double, toil and trouble"? Was I mad?

The curtain opened and I absolutely promise you, magic happened. The technical kinks were somehow overcome, turning the auditorium into a true professional theatre. The boys rapped about Shakespeare's life with the energy and confidence of all the MTV performers I discouraged them from watching. Two young ladies had the audience in hysterics with their self-written lines such as "Juliet, I feel like I done got run over by a semi-truck" and "Yo, nurse, that Romeo tight!" They finished off with a scene from Macbeth in which they forgot not a line of the original, beautiful script. They were amazing. And I think, as they took their curtain call to a packed audience who were on their feet hooting and hollering, they knew it. They amazed themselves.

I have bowed for many audiences. I have performed many times, heard many cheers, and each time my heart has leapt a little. That's the rush that keeps so many actors addicted to the unstable, impossible profession. But, I have never in my life experienced the feeling I had on that night when those 23 kids took their bows. No critic's or director's opinion has ever meant more to me than the hugs I got from those gleaming children when they got off stage, giggling proudly and making fun of me for the tears streaming down my face. I wouldn't trade that moment for the best-paying, most fame-creating gig in Manhattan.

As the year concludes, I find myself often asking if it was a success. I'm not sure how you measure that. Fists still occasionally fly, the "f" word still sometimes bellows across the classroom, the girls still whisper about romances that are far more physically advanced than any fifth grade "relationship" should be. Then a few weeks ago, Billy Gaines wandered over to my bookshelf and picked up a script. "Oooh, a book of raps!" he exclaimed, gingerly opening my copy of Hamlet. He gently tapped a beat on the back of his chair. "To BE or not to BE, that IS the ques-TION……" His words were music to my ears. I don't know exactly what constitutes educational success. I expect I'll learn more as I complete my second year at Academy Prep as an AmeriCorps teacher. But I know that 23 kids from the projects jump with excitement when I pull out a copy of Macbeth to read aloud. That has to be worth something.