https://everythingspeakstome.com/files/original/db408e458719150282f580ce6da90c69.jpg 3646a09158f841783602670a1c24a5f8 Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Text Please post your written submission in this field. The images you would like to include should be posted as attachments below. Spring Show In a small school in Miami with no performance art classes, fifteen students decided to create a club where they could perform. There, SharkPac was born. Home to singers, dancers, actors, poets, techs and so much more. It is now the day of the Spring Show of 2022, a random Thursday since the principal didn’t allow performances on Fridays. Mixed emotions roam in the SharkPac practice room, which in technicality was Dr. Felix’s classroom, where all the club gathered when we are resting. Thespians repeating their lines, techs moving equipment, dancers sitting on the floor, zoned out. Sharkapellas scattered in the large classroom, humming their tunes. Those who are confident in their performances are seated, conversing, or eating their overdue lunch. It is four hours before the show and I am somewhere, lost in my mind, playing back the memories of the year. All the practices, all the endless meetings, and the tired evenings. All of that would end tonight and we will all be free in a way. The room buzzes with whispers, words of encouragement, and a faint smoke of gloom. The Spring show has always been goodbye to the school year, a goodbye to the production, and a goodbye to the seniors. Being the last show of the year, it always sent them away with warmth and love. Tears were expected to be shed, hugs and laughter were shared. But we always joked that when the time comes, no one would be emotional. We all subconsciously agreed that SharkPac was a blessing and a curse. It is always fun in the beginning, gathering with people who share the same passion as you, laughing, dancing, and talking. But when the time comes to create a show, the fun suddenly dissipates, welcoming stress, chaos, and fatigue. Months of endless practices, countless disagreements, and night-long dress rehearsals, all of that for two hours show that will play tonight. I think back to the very first day I auditioned for the club. An anxious, insecure senior whose whole body trembled the moment she opened her mouth to sing. She doubted herself, fearful of the reactions of others, and afraid of their judgment. We all knew that SharkPac was a four-year commitment, why would she dare join her last year? She was afraid of being horrible, she never took voice lessons, barely sang anything to anyone that wasn’t her mom or brother. She was intimidated by the legacies left behind by the SharkPac veterans, alumni whose stories live on the walls in front of Dr. Felix’s room. Their names, photos, accomplishments, and roles plastered on big gold stars were one of the first things one would see upon entering the school. How could she compare to them? She tried auditioning her sophomore year but only by one look at their Spring performance, she backed out. She wasn’t good enough. How wrong was she? She chose to sing Adele’s “All I Ask”, a song that had been stuck in her head for months now. She had sung it countless times in her bedroom, in the living room, anywhere she knew no one would listen. The moment she opened her trembling mouth and let her voice out, she could feel the energy changing in the room. Her brother sat on the desk next to Dr. Felix’s, a look of pride flashed on his face. Dr. Felix’s hands covered her mouth and her eyes glistened. But she was too focused on maintaining a balanced tone to see everyone’s reaction. She gave it her all and it was all that mattered. I remember the dress rehearsals where we all sat dispersed in the classroom, filling our stomachs with Papa John’s pizza and room temperature soda. Thespians were laughing with techs, sharkapellas and dancers talking in a corner. Regardless of our corps, our interests, and our differences, SharkPac always became one when we were struck by hunger. It had been a home, an escape, a commitment that we would have never imagined having. I had given my all to the cause, learned that it was more than what I had to offer, but what we all can contribute to the club. I think that’s the beauty of the home we call Miami. Despite our disparities, we always find how to be there for each other, in grand or miniscule ways. Like permeable ground, the loving culture that surrounds us slowly infiltrates itself in the way we interact with one another. Tonight is the last performance, our last chance to wow them again. The show must go (wrong)on (with “wrong” crossed out), is a student run, produced and directed show that took lots of tears and arguments to be put on stage tonight. I am in my “90s punk kid” outfit with a black shirt, black jeans, and a flannel around my waist. I think I look more like a farmer girl if anything. The program said that the show is scheduled for 6:30 pm and in true Miami fashion, no one is here at six thirty. I stand next to the SharkPac veteran wall with others; prepared to welcome the parents, friends, and classmates that came to support us. My head buzzes with excitement, fear, and everything in between, I spot my mom in the emerging flock of bodies that surge through the halls. A smile creeps on my face. My brother locks his arms around hers and guides her to her seat. We wait as people enter the small auditorium. The show will start in a few minutes. Backstage is always chaotic, too crowded with students, props, and chairs no one really uses. I stand behind the second curtain, heart beating way too fast, throat dried out by my nerves. I cling hard on the microphone as if it would bring me comfort, then I notice movement with the curtain, “Theo” Alondra whispers as we fist bump with the curtain between us. “We’re going to kill it tonight” I reply, trying to convince myself more than her. The opening number goes by fast, we all sing and dance to the tunes of “Don’t Stop Believin’” (the glee version). It is fun to see the entire SharkPac on stage, most of us trying to keep up with the melody, others trying to keep up with the rhythm of the choreography. I quickly glance at the audience, trying to make out the faces. I smile at whoever glanced back at me. The opening number ends and Dr. Felix introduces the corps as she always does: the thespians, the dancers, the sharkapellas and the techs. We go backstage to quickly change for the next number. I have just enough time to go sit in the audience and watch the show for a few minutes. I can’t help it but smile as I remember the ups and downs that allowed the show to be. Seeing my friends giving it their all on stage does nothing but feel me up with joy. A sweet feeling of pride creeps up inside of me as I anxiously sway my body in the chair. My second appearance is in a few minutes, I sneak backstage and onto the wing, looking for my partner. A duet between a SharkPac veteran and a Senior, it couldn’t have been a better match. He arrives late but the show must go on! We sing “You Are The Reason” by Calum Scott, his high pitched and soft voice compliments mine, and despite our mistake, we still get a round of applause. The show goes on for one more hour and on stage I get to see: dances, songs, and musical numbers. My heart swells as we approach the closing number. “Only the best gets to close my shows” Dr. Felix always repeated. It was a big statement; never would I have considered myself to be the best. Maybe it is because I don’t know how to take compliments, or maybe because I am too humble. But I want to think that she wouldn’t lie. For the last time, I stand behind the second curtains, gripping so hard on the microphone that I feel my hands numbing. I wipe my sweaty hands on the side of my long pink dress. I do not feel like myself. I do not feel anything. I wait for the end of the musical number, I wait for SharkPac to get back into the wings, and I wait for the curtains to slide open. I walk to the center of the stage, and for the last time, I sing. Just like the first, “All I Ask” is the appropriate song. A goodbye to the school year, a goodbye to the audience, and a goodbye to the seniors. I continue to sing as I feel the emotions rising through me. Just like the opening number, the closing is when all of SharkPac gathers on stage, and it hits me. This is the last time, our very last performance, the very last song. I try to keep myself together as we near the end. The entire club sings as best as they could as I lead, trying not to show my emotions. One final chorus, one final note and it ends with the SharkPac bow. I feel it all now: the relief, the goosebumps on my skin, and the tears that flow down my eyes. The Spring show had ended, the last song was sung, the last claps echoed, and it was time to say goodbye. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Spring Show Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Theodora Boyer Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 10/03/2022