Something strange happened this week.
We recently discovered that our youngest daughter has decided she wants to perform. Now this isn't really much of surprise since every one of her siblings is a performer however, this isn't "sing around the house" kind of perform. Actual, stand-on-a-stage, belt-it out perform. And plot twist: she's really good. Like surprisingly good for a nine-year old who's never had any formal vocal training.
So naturally, jumping on her eagerness, right before the holidays I filled out an application for her to audition for a local production. She was instructed to prepare to perform 90 seconds of a song. This song became a part of her daily routine. She practiced religiously for almost a month. Living room concerts were the daily norm. This kid was READY.
Fast forward to audition day.
We arrive at the theater at our scheduled call back time- actually we were early- but the doors were locked. Not "maybe they're running late" locked. Lock-locked. We stood outside for over 20 minutes in frigid temperatures with other performers who had similar audition times. No emails. No calls. No smoke signals. Nothing.
Eventually, thanks to another parent who happened to have a contact we were told our auditions had to be rescheduled due to "scheduling conflicts" and we should have received an email. Yeah, that definitely didn't happen and I'm glad I wasn't alone.
No one thought to notify, oh I don't know...the people auditioning.
We were sent home, slightly confused but still optimistic. Later that day, an email arrived apologizing and asking if we were still interested. I replied yes- because my daughter had worked hard and deserved her shot-and we scheduled a new audition for the following Tuesday immediately after school. Bear in mind, this all went down on a Sunday.
Late Monday night I checked my email and saw that we received new materials: a piece of a song and a script. Ok, I thought this will be supplemental to her original piece. Besides it was late, she was already in bed. I knew I wouldn't have time for her to look at the materials because she had school the next day. Luckily, she was prepared with that original song.
Audition time rolls around. We go in. Surprise! It's now a group audition. Maybe that was the plan all along but regardless that was never communicated. They only sing the song they received the night before and read the script also given the night before.
All of that work on her original song?
Completely pointless. A month of preparation, practice, and confidence-building- out the window.
Did Marci do her best? Absolutely. She walked in, stood tall, sang, read, and gave it everything she had with essentially no prep time. I can't say I could do that. And I was incredibly proud of her. First auditions are scary enough without curveballs being thrown from every direction.
But I can't help feeling like she was slighted.
This wasn't about whether she gets cast. That's theater. You win some, you lose some. This was about professionalism. Communication. Respecting the time, effort and emotional investment of kids and families who show up prepared because they were told to be.
Auditions are supposed to showcase talent-not adaptability to chaos.
I know theater is unpredictable. I know things happen. But when children are involved, organization matters. I know better than anyone. I'm also frustrated. Because her first audition should not have doubled as a master class in last-minute changes and poor planning. I know I'm not the only parent who feels this way.
So, while my expectations are low for this experience, here's hoping the next audition comes with fewer plot twists-and maybe an unlocked door in the middle of winter.