Iona Catholic Secondary School
2170 South Sheridan Way
Mississauga, ON
Phone 905-823-0136
Fax 905-823-1248
Workshop/Intake Package for Drama
Read over the different monologues for your gender. Cast yourself in the selection
that interests you the most and is the best fit for you. Memorize it exactly as written.
Practice saying the monologue out loud with a clear voice. Use facial expressions,
voice and body language to give a strong sense of your character. Don‟t worry about a
costume, just wear comfortable clothing.
Take a deep breath and relax. Remember that we are looking for good things and we
want you to do your best!
Creative Writing
We‟d love to look at some of your best creative writing: a short story, a poem or a
scene. Bring a sample to the audition with you. We‟d also love to hear about any
specialized skills you have so don‟t be shy. Show us what you can do!
A LOSS OF ROSES
by William Inge
A woman remembers her first day in school.
LILA: I remember my first day at school. Mother took me by the hand and I carried a
bouquet of roses, too. Mama had let me pick the loveliest roses I could find in the
garden, and the teacher thanked me for them. Then Mama left me and I felt kinda
scared, „cause I‟d never been any place before without her; but she told me Teacher
would be Mama to me at school and would treat me as nice as she did. So I took my
seat with all the other kids, their faces so strange and new to me. And I started talking
with a little boy across the aisle. I didn‟t know it was against the rules. But Teacher
came back and slapped me, so hard that I cried, and I ran to the door „cause I wanted
to run home to Mama quick as I could. But Teacher grabbed me by the hand and pulled
me back to my seat. She said I was too big a girl to be running home to Mama and I
had to learn to take my punishment when I broke the rules. But I still cried. I told
Teacher I wanted my roses back. But she wouldn‟t give them to me. She shook her
finger and said, when I gave away lovely presents, I couldn‟t expect to get them
back…I guess I never learned that lesson very well. There‟s so many things I still want
back.
ASCENSION DAY
by Timothy Mason
Mary-Lois speaks to her fellow campers during a testimonial session.
MARY-LOIS: Hi, I‟m Mary-Lois Becker and I‟m from Spooner. Tomorrow is Ascension
Thursday, the day Our Lord left us to go up to heaven, and Sunday we get on the buses
and go home. If this year‟s anything like last year, a lot of us aren‟t going to want to
get on that bus. Oh sure, it‟ll be good to see our folks again…and to sleep in a bed
that‟s not filled with sand, a real bed, not an old army cot. And I for one am not going
to miss the mosquitoes one little bit. But you know what I mean. With the exception of
certain individuals, we‟re already making new friends, and getting closer to old
friends, and by the end of the week it‟s just going to be terribly hard to say goodbye.
The friends you make at camp, by the side of a lake, it‟s different somehow than
ordinary life. The smells are different, there‟s the smell of the pine forest, and the
watery smells of the lake, the reeds, the water plants, campfire smoke. Melted
marshmallows and chocolate. The sounds are different too. There‟s the water lapping
against the shore, of course. There are the loons. The junior counselors blowing their
whistles. And for the rest of your life, I just have this feeling, for me anyway, that the
smell of wood smoke is always going to make me think of some of you. I‟ll see you. I‟ll
hear a loon or bite into a piece of chocolate and I‟ll see you. Just as you are now.
Never any older. Forever. Anyway, Jesus made his friends at the side of a lake too. For
Him, and for them, there was the sound of the water lapping on the shore. The smell
of a campfire, of fish cooking on the coals. I‟m sure he was happy to go home to see
His Father. But think how hard it must have been for Him to leave, too, how terribly
hard. And then try to imagine how it must have been for them who were left behind.
They had three years with the best Person they‟d ever know, Someone who had
changed their whole lives forever, and now, suddenly they were alone with the sound
of the water on the shore. And everywhere they looked or smelled or listened, there
were all these reminders of what they didn‟t have anymore.
THE FIGHTING DAYS
by Wendy Lill
Canadian feminist Nellie McClung speaks up for women’s rights in1910.
NELLIE: My name is Nellie McClung and I‟m a disturber. Disturbers are never popular.
Nobody likes an alarm clock in action, no matter how grateful they are later for its
services! But I‟ve decided that I‟m going to keep on being a disturber. I‟m not going to
pull through life like a thread that has no knot. I want to leave something behind when
I go; some small legacy of Democracy for Women. Because I‟m a firm believer in
Women, in their ability to see things and feel things and improve things. I believe that
it is Women who set the standards for the world and it is up to us, the Women of
Canada, to set the standards…HIGH! Maybe I‟m sort of a dreamer, maybe I‟m sort of
naïve…but I look at my little girls and boys and I think I want a different world for
them than the one I was born into. I look at them and my heart cries out when I see
them slowly turn towards the roles the world has carved for them: my girls, a life of
cooking and sewing and servicing the needs of men; and the boys, scrapping and
competing in the playground, then right up into the corridors of government, or even
worse, the battlefields. I want them to have a choice about their lives. We mothers
are going to fight for the rights of our little girls to think and dream and speak out.
We‟re going to refuse to bear and rear sons to be shot at on faraway battlefields.
Women need the vote to bring about a better, more equitable, peaceful society, and
we‟re going to get it!
PATH WITH NO MOCCASINS
by Shirley Cheechoo
A Native girl recalls her experiences in residential schools.
SHIRLEY: My cousin farted in class yesterday. She was so cute going (simulating the
sound) until she saw Miss Stapleton walking over. The teacher grabbed her by the hair
and pulled her to the front of the class. „What do you say?‟ Silence. Jessie was
searching for an answer from us. We didn‟t know what she was supposed to say.
Teacher kept yelling, „What do you say useless dirty girl? What do you say you stupid
Indian girl?‟ Jessie‟s eyes lit up. Ours did too. She found what to say. She looked so
brave. She stood up straight and said „Oops.‟
Miss Stapleton, who is she to do that? She has bad breath that stinks worse than the
dogs on the reserve, she spits in our faces, even when she just talks. She chews
cigarettes you know. Her teeth are all brown and crooked and they stick out from
everywhere. Reminds me of a dog‟s mouth, the mouths that almost killed me once,
those husky dogs that ripped at my clothes trying to eat my blood. They wanted
something inside me. I think she‟s one of them dogs. She punished Jessie for her smell
but who‟s gonna punish that teacher for her smell? It won‟t be the principal. She has
something over him I think.
THE STAGE MANAGER’S NIGHTMARE
by Mark Leiren-Young
A house manager goes out front to buy time because the actors aren’t quite ready.
This character can be played by a male or female.
HOUSE MANAGER: Hello, I‟m your front-of-house manager and I really must apologize
to you for the delay this evening. The show will be beginning shortly…While we‟re
waiting I may as well tell you a little about the work. As you probably know it‟s about
a king whose wife is raped by two gentlemen - perhaps gentlemen isn‟t the word I‟m
looking for – who cut off both her hands and removed her tongue in order that she will
not be able to identify them. Eventually, however, the husband discovers the ruffians‟
identity, bakes them into a pie and serves the boys to their parents. It‟s a tragedy. A
Shakespearian tragedy. That means everybody dies. If it was a comedy everybody
would get married, except for the villain. It‟s not a very good play actually, but I‟m
sure you‟ll enjoy it. After all, it is Shakespeare… And while we‟re waiting I‟ll introduce
you to some of the people involved in the show. Fred Jenkins, our lighting board
operator. Susan Wong, who does our sound. I‟d like to introduce you to the author, but
he couldn‟t be with us this evening. That was a joke, you see, the author‟s dead. Died
hundreds of years ago. That‟s why everybody does his plays – no royalties.
THE GOSPELS ACCORDINGLY
Fabrizio Filippo
Enzo recalls a childhood adventure that he and his cousin Joseph shared years before.
ENZO: When we were twelve, Joseph had this idea to build a clubhouse on the roof of
the school because nobody went there. So we built these pulleys. Joseph got an idea
for pulleys from how they built cathedrals; which was one of the things we were
studying in class. We scrounged up all the lumber we could find and attached it to the
pulleys and yanked them up. The janitor shows up, we panic, drop all the wood and
Joseph takes a running jump off the school onto the field. He didn‟t hesitate or
anything. Like he didn‟t care if he lived or died. I stop at the edge. He‟s screaming at
me we don‟t have much time. Jump! Jump! I do. I jumped. Actually I sort of hang
dropped. But I did it, which was very important to me. So I‟m falling and I‟m thinking
„great!‟ „This is amazing!‟ then bang, I fell the wrong way. I couldn‟t run. Joseph tried
to carry me, but we were twelve and I was heavier than he was. Then the
janitor…what was his name? It was Faubern (not sure) Mr. Fau-whatever catches us
and all I think is how it‟s my fault we got caught. The janitor threatens to call the
cops. Somehow Joseph convinces the guy to call Mrs. Everson, our teacher, instead. So
Mrs. Everson comes down there and it‟s late Friday and she‟s pissed, she‟s steaming,
until (pausing for effect) ….she sees the pulleys. She – thinks – they‟re – marvelous.
They were the greatest things she ever saw. And she suddenly loves us. Why? Because
those pulleys showed that we were listening in her class. She drove us each a block
away from our houses and never said a word about it to us or anyone else…it‟s
amazing.
ONE THOUSAND CRANES
By Colin Thomas
A 12-year-old boy tries to cope with his fear of nuclear war in this story about a
young Japanese survivor of the A-Bomb dealing with leukemia.
BUDDY: The end of the world? Oh snap! I‟ve gotta tell you. It was so weird. I was in
the mall?...and this crazy guy, he walks right up to me and he starts screaming, “Are
you ready for the end of the world?” And I just stand there. I mean, what am I
supposed to do? And then he takes off. Feeow! Like he‟s being chased by the police
from the planet Bazonkers. And then I went into the stereo store and all these TV‟s in
the store were showing this guy and there‟s been an accident in this nuclear reactor.
And this guy looks awful – all burned up and everything. And then all of a sudden all of
these TV‟s, all hundred and seventy million of them, they zoom in on this one guy,
real close, and I look into his eyes, and… it‟s like I‟m in the TV‟s! I feel like I am that
guy! And I can feel my body, like what his body feels like, and it‟s burning! Like my
body was burning up, I felt like I was gonna throw up, I felt like I was gonna die! And
then a commercial comes on and I‟m saved. Ooohohoho. Isn‟t that weird? It made me
think about…the end of the world…you know…the real end of the world…like nuclear
war.
YOU’RE A GOOD MAN, CHARLIE BROWN
by Clark Gesner
Charlie explains why he hates lunchtime.
CHARLIE BROWN: I think lunch time is about the worst time of the day for me. Always
having to sit here alone. Of course, sometimes mornings aren‟t so pleasant, either –
waking up and wondering if anyone would really miss me if I never got out of bed.
Then there‟s the night, too –lying there and thinking about all the stupid things I‟ve
done during the day. And all those hours in between – when I do all those stupid
things. Well, lunch time is among the worst time of the day for me. Well , I guess I‟d
better see what I‟ve got. Peanut butter. Some psychiatrists say that people who eat
peanut butter sandwiches are lonely. I guess they‟re right. And if you‟re really lonely,
the peanut butter sticks to the roof of your mouth. Boy, the PTA sure did a good job of
painting these benches. There‟s that cute little redheaded girl eating her lunch over
there. I wonder what she‟d do if I went over and asked her if I could sit and have lunch
with her. She‟d probably laugh right in my face. It‟s hard on a face when it gets
laughed at. There‟s an empty place next to her on the bench. There‟s no reason why I
couldn‟t just go over and sit there. I could do that right now. All I have to do is stand
up. I‟m standing up. I‟m sitting down. I‟m a coward. I‟m so much of a coward she
wouldn‟t even think of looking at me. Why shouldn‟t she look at me? Is she so great
and am I so small that she couldn‟t‟ spare one little moment just to - she‟s looking at
me. She‟s looking at me.