College Essay

“Genius: the… attendant spirit… allotted to every person at birth”

                                                   - The New Shorter Oxford English Dictionary

I stepped up to the front of the classroom with my scene partner.  Once we were ready to perform, we both took a deep breath, and began our piece, a scene by Samuel Beckett. I tried to get into character, a reclusive old man fraught with cancer, confined to a wheelchair. I worked to remember my lines, forgetting my objective, but I wasn’t too worried: we’d done well last time we performed the scene. My partner was playing a blind man, and I tried to use the stage, but my lack of confidence in my movement kept me constricted- near my partner. When we finished the performance, our teacher looked at us with narrowed eyes. “Well… it didn’t get worse.” He said simply. “It comes from a lack of preparation.” The other kids in the class raised their hands to make comments. “Your movements were kind of jerky, like you had a condition.” One said. The teacher nodded. “A lot of times actors mistake energy for honesty.”

I had never gotten such painfully blunt commentary before. It made me ponder where I was going with my acting. I wanted to pursue this, but I clearly did not have a talent for it.

As I sat in the car, listening to the radio, sulking and thinking I had no future, a special on the concept of ‘genius’ projected across the speakers. The tortured artist stereotype has evolved over the decades, the speaker explained, due to the idea of genius. When an artist was described as a genius, enormous pressure was put onto them to deliver.  When an artist was described as possessing genius, that pressure disappeared.

As I listened, I felt a small jump in my heart. My next assignment for my advanced acting class was to perform a monologue. I had chosen mine from an Irish play. It meant a lot to me- it was part of my culture, it was gritty, and it reminded me of the desperation and need I felt to be free. I set to work preparing, and before long, the day arrived when I was to perform. As I stepped up to take my turn, the idea of genius crept back into my mind. I had prepared religiously for this moment, and I decided all that I could do was let whatever came, come. I pumped my fists into the air as I said the first few words, feeling something well up inside me, and I looked up and continued to speak. Suddenly, I felt desperation, fear, and anger overcome me, and I began to cry as I continued. Towards the end of the monologue, the words left me, and I stood in the middle of the stage, sniffling. “I forgot the words.” I mumbled, and the teacher nodded, smiling. “That’s alright.”

I went out of the classroom, and sat outside to regain control of myself, sighing with contentment. The reason I had not delivered before was because I had not been ready. But this time, I was ready. And something unbelievable happened.