When I was a senior in high school, our speech class put on a special program for all of the students. We presented two plays (the titles of which escape me now) with a monologue performance between the plays. The first play had something to do with a yard sale and a professor (I must be getting old because I really don't remember the details), and the second play was a new take on the classic story of the three little pigs. There were three pig sisters-- Nedra, Porcine, and another (once again, I don't recall the name)-- and they built their respective houses and tried to stay away from the big bad wolf (played surprisingly well by a classmate we referred to as Slim-- that I do remember).

The first play I didn't care about, but I wanted a plum part in the pig play-- the part of Nedra, who can only be described as the valedictorian pig (she's the one who built her house out of brick). Seeing as I was set to become the valedictorian of our class, I felt it was only appropriate that I get the part.

So I auditioned for it. I thought I did a pretty good job, although I couldn't get my pig voice just right. I wanted it so bad I could taste it. I just knew it was my destiny to play Nedra.

I was quite disappointed when the cast was announced and the part of Nedra was given to another student. Did I say disappointed? I mean devastated. I can remember sitting up in my bed one night crying my eyes out. I was crying so hard I was hyperventilating. I thought it was truly the end of the world. For days I was a basketcase, imagining myself to be the unluckiest creature in the world. I deserved that part. Why couldn't anyone understand that?

A few days after my world was shattered, I talked to Mr. Deans, my speech teacher, about why I didn't get the part. There were two main reasons. The first reason was that when I sat down after I finished my audition, one of the casting judges saw me roll my eyes. To her, that indicated that I thought it was stupid. To this day I can remember that I did roll my eyes, but I was rolling them because of my self-perceived poor performance and not because I thought the play was stupid (although when I look back on it now it may very well have been).

The second reason I didn't get the part, Mr. Deans explained, was because he had me in mind to do a monologue between the two plays. He felt that if I did a monologue, it would be too much for me to have to memorize and perform a part in the pig play as well.

So one sunny spring afternoon, our class put on two plays and I performed a monologue ("Casey's Revenge," the sequel to the classic "Casey at the Bat"). I don't know that I was a showstopper, but I had command of the stage longer than anyone else. In effect, I had the biggest part of all.

Over the last few days, I've thought about that experience a lot. When I found out that I didn't get a fellowship to graduate school, my reaction was similar to what I went through when I didn't get to play Nedra (although not nearly as drastic as my 18-year-old drama queen reaction). I wanted it a lot, and I feel like I certainly deserved it. But I still didn't get it.

I don't know the reasons why I didn't get one of the 15 fellowships, but I am comforted by the only feasible explanation I can come up with (in truth, I have to credit this explanation to a good friend- I am not optimistic enough to come up with something like this on my own): whatever is in store for me will be bigger and greater than anything I can imagine for myself. Even though I can't see it now, this is a blessing in disguise.

Why should I play the part of a pig when I'm meant for something greater?