As a student who’s been part of Fossils theatre (R before the E. Always.) for a little over a year – and theatre in general for a few years more than that – I’m well accustomed to how a show works. A week of auditions, a month or two of rehearsals, a week of tech week – or as it’s more often known as H E double hockey sticks week, three days of shows. A week later, you restart the process. Even though I’m familiar with the formula of a performance, I don’t think I’ve ever truly appreciated it until I joined troupe #7339, Fossil’s theatre troupe.

A few weeks ago was tech week for Fossils’ fall play Our Town, a three act performance about growing up, about marriage and about death. After around a month and a half of regular rehearsals and work days, we got to the point where we all stayed after school until eleven every day of the week, running complete dress rehearsals for the first time. This is called tech week.

I’m techie instead of an actor so I work behind the scenes and I never get my 15 minutes of fame. Instead of being told to project my voice so the audience can hear me more, I get shushed backstage if I take too heavy of steps. When I explain this to people, when I try to express my immense love for theatre, specifically tech week, it’s not easy. I tell them how stressful it is, how much I can’t stand certain people, how much I love the certain people I couldn’t stand the day before, how little sleep I get, how behind I am with school work and how  horrible the food is.

I get asked why. Why do I enjoy it if I’m not acting? Why do I continue to do the thing that sounds that horrible? The thing I complain about all the time? The answer is easy.

Because I love it. The stress of tech week is the best stress ever. The kind of stress that is a medley of ‘Oh my god we’re getting absolutely nothing done, what is wrong with you people!’, ‘Oh my god we’re about to show hundreds of people our show. What If they hate it? What if no one buys tickets? Did marketing do their job?’ and ‘Dude, what is she wearing? Doesn’t she know today is fancy all black day? Someone go tell her to change!’

When you hear theatre kids complain about other theatre kids, it’s rarely genuine. It’s like a little kid complaining about their siblings. They can annoy the crap out of you sometimes, but you’re family and you’re inevitably going to get over it and love them again. If not, the directors might put you in a corner and make you talk it out.

Just kidding.

Maybe.

Also, the food is actually pretty good. We’re just dramatic.

When tech week ends and show days begin, that’s when the stress goes away. That’s when we realize we’ve poured our heart and soul into the performance, and there’s nothing left for us to do other than run it and hope nothing goes wrong. Half an hour before each show, all the cast and crew meets backstage for a final ‘hurrah!’ before the performance. It’s called circle time and it’s where laughs are had, tears are shed, jokes are cracked. It’s a magical bonding moment that passes on that magic to the following show, and it’s probably my favorite thing in theatre.

Well, that, plus the dance party afterwards. Our theatre has some pretty stellar traditions.

So even though I’m never front and center on stage, I know the standing ovations and whistling aren’t just for the lead characters. It’s for the costume crew member that was just off stage left with a needle and thread, ready for emergencies. It’s for the light board operator that would get a chorus of ‘What do you think you’re doing!’ through the radios whenever they missed a cue. It was for the assistant stage manager who’s holding back tears because everything is overwhelming and nothing seems to be going right and she totally sent someone off to get her a latte like three hours ago and it still isn’t here.

It’s for all of us.  It’s a round of applause for every little thing each and every one of us put towards this show.

 A few weeks ago, a teacher asked the class what place do we feel most at home. I didn’t hesitate at all when saying the PAC, because it’s true. Fossils’ theatre is my home, and every single person in it is my family.