The Warmth of Lights
	I was a sophomore when a friend from swim team encouraged me to work backstage at one of our high school’s shows. When I arrived at rehearsal I did not realize that within a week I would fall deeply in love with the dark spaces of a theater, the dry warmth of lights on the legs of a curtain, and the comical look of an actor caked in makeup preparing to take the stage. The adrenaline, the odd hush in the wings at intermission, the triumph and relief that came when the actors took their final bows to the hypnotic sound of applause, it was like nourishment to me. Long ago in my little 5th grade mind I had had the desire to be a part of theater and parade across a stage, but the ability to act had never blossomed within me. Instead, I had watched from the audience, admiring theater, envious that I could not be a part of its magic.
	Before my friend graduated that year, she taught me how to operate a light board and at the last show of the year I successfully ran my first production. In the dim light of the booth I read from a script, my fingers tense, hovering over a dimmer as I prepared to bring the lights up on stage. The headset I wore pinched lightly into my scalp, but I spoke into its mouthpiece confidently, giving cues for sound or backstage, watching as they were carried out along with the plot in front of the audience. By the time the production had ended I was hooked on the inner-workings of theater.
	I returned to technical theater the following year, this time without my mentor. She had been the technical director, the leader, informing the rest of the crew on what to build, paint, or design, but she had left for college, leaving her position vacant. As the first show of the year approached, I discovered I was stepping into my friend’s former role, the whole community accepting and supporting me.
	I busily oversaw the completion of the set for our first main-stage production of the year. Show-week came upon us quickly and with it came the delirium of little sleep, little food, and lots of nervous energy. Opening night I heard from the booth the distant humming of a full house, and I nervously announced to my technician team over the communication system that everyone needed to get into their positions for the top of the show. Minutes later the curtains flew open to reveal our set –a few months worth of painstaking work, standing amidst the glory of a cast in action. It was this show that solidified my love for leading tech, my love for lights, and my love for the unseen side of theater. At the end of the show I leaned back in my chair, exhausted. The audience’s muffled cheering fell softly around me from outside the booth’s walls. In that moment I realized how addictive and satisfying this feeling of shared success was. I had never felt so proud in all my life.
	Technical theater has taught me so much. It has taught me how to be leader, it has taught me organization, it has taught me responsibility and teamwork, and it has taught me grace under pressure, but what it is has given me is almost indescribable. It’s not just that I have developed the ability to lead and the desire to work hard in whatever I do. Being a theater technician makes me feel appreciated, it makes me feel confident, it is a passion, a purpose, and it has helped me to understand that there is just as much glory being the spotlight, as there is in being in it.