Senior

Winner
Steven Brooker (16), Morley WA [Guildford Grammar]

Highly Commended
Melissa Bulmer (13), Dubbo NSW [Delroy High]
Sera Pal (15), Croydon Hills VIC [Preshil]

Junior

Winner
Jessica McDermott (10), Saratoga NSW [Green Point Christian School]

Highly Commended
Sanjay Selvakumaran (9), Roselands NSW [Trinity Grammar]
Michael Tran (10) , Burwood NSW [Trinity Grammar]

Who would have thought that shopping for Italian videos with my nonna at the age of four could have influenced my life as much as it did? To tell you the truth, those trips to Mirella's Video Store always seemed kind of boring. That is, until a fateful day in late November 1986 when Giuseppe Bertinazzo, founder of the Western Australian Opera Company, came into my life. He told my mother that he wanted me to be in Madam Butterfly, the upcoming opera he was producing. He took my phone number and thoroughly frightened the wits out of me; after all, he was a very large Italian man whom I'd never met before.

Two months later I auditioned and was chosen to play the part of Trouble, the innocent little boy with the blond hair, offspring of a Japanese geisha-girl and an American sailor. I guess they claimed poetic licence for my red hair.

Not that all of this meant anything to me. My life was He-man, Lego and Saturday morning cartoons. What was opera? Why was some lady screaming at me? Furthermore, why did mum have to take me to this huge building every day? It would be many, many years later when I would learn that the building was His Majesty's Theatre, the screaming lady was in fact a singer and opera was something to be avoided. At the time, however, it got me out of some preschool, so I was happy.

Rehearsals were fun and although I didn't realise it at the time, I was learning an awful lot about how to act, move and behave in a theatre. Go here, stand there and sit next to this lady. I did exactly what they told me, which seemed to work because by all reports I was 'a pleasure to work with' and 'a wonderful performer' (excerpts from the program I had signed). The only problem I can remember was with the little wooden boat that I had to put down at some point in the show; it broke every time. What can I say? They told me to drop it!

I met lots of people during the course of the production and I can recall nearly every one of them vividly. Marjory McKay, the female lead who played my mother (Cio-Cio-San) was one of my closest friends. I spent most of my on-stage time with her and Kirsti Harms (Suzuki), who is now a famous Australian opera singer. Both of them looked after me and made sure I was doing what I was supposed to be doing. I will always remember Kirsti by her friendliness and Marjory by her costume, which I always thought was like the quilt on my bed. Of the other on-stage colleagues, I spent time with Ron McQueen, Mario Alafaci, Roger Howell and even Claudio Versaico (later WA Salvage's LUIGI) all of whom listened patiently while I told them why I thought colouring in was better than sticking down stickers.

Kay Jamieson, Stage-manager extraordinaire, was without doubt the most talented, friendly and hard-working member of the production team. She managed to turn a frisky chatterbox with no previous acting experience into a scene-stealing, adorable and well-behaved young actor, in the space of only a few months. My best friend in the entire company, Kay remains a friend of the family and is probably most responsible for my first appearance on stage being such a success.

Rehearsals were beginning to run and we were on the stage, which was very different from the small room we had been rehearsing in up till then. The gigantic wooden set itself amazed and confused me no end. How could a house be so thin? Why wasn't I allowed to stand behind walls? It was Kay who stepped in and explained to me what I now know to be sight lines. At this stage I was getting used to the fact that I couldn't just walk over to my mother if I had sore feet and I couldn't keep on asking questions all the time; this meant that I had to learn discipline earlier than most kids.

Three problems struck just before opening night. Firstly, the small pool I had to play in with my toy boat was too big; the small yacht kept floating away. The remedy: a short piece of string and some Velcro! Second dilemma, Japanese boys carry everything in their left hand and I was right handed. Ironically, the third dilemma solved the second. I cut my hand just before opening night. With my right hand out of action, my left was the only alternative! With these three hurdles out of the way, I was ready to perform.

20th March 1987. Opening Night at His Majesty's Theatre. I was surrounded by nervous actors and a frantic stage crew. Most of my time was spent in the Green Room. This one completely lost me. A white Green Room. Make-up, costumes and last minute prepping from Kay dominated the last few minutes before show time.

Eventually, the time came for me to go on, so I went out and did exactly what I had done for weeks and weeks. The audience didn't faze me all that much. I had no image to protect; I was four. The boat stayed where it was 'moored' and I used the correct hand for everything (not that I had any choice).

Everything was going smoothly until I needed to fall asleep beside Suzuki (the servant) in one of the scenes. I'd never had to fall asleep during rehearsals, why start now? Fortunately, Kirsti came prepared with a pack of lifesavers in her costume for just such an emergency. Call it bribery, or the blind faith of a child in what he believed to be magic sleeping lollies, but I was asleep in no time. When I woke up the opera was over and it was time for curtain calls.

A successful first performance gave way to seven others. Originally, I was only contracted to do four of the nights and my understudy, the other three. Luckily for me, the other boy was too nervous, not well liked and fat. For the first time, a child actor of my age would do all of the shows. On the last night I cried, with all the other actors who didn't want to leave. I wanted to do another seven shows; I didn't want to say goodbye to anybody, especially Kay. But just as the show must go on, so it must come off as well.

So I went back to being a kid, I went back to not doing what I was told and I went back to running around when I felt like it. However, the knowledge and discipline that come from being involved with theatre stayed with me and will continue to stay with me for a long, long time. Remarkably, it would be years after Madam Butterfly that I would jump back on stage to play Pinocchio in Year 5 at Trinity College. Plays, skits and Rock Eisteddfods have filled in most of my time since then and I have experienced a multitude of roles that range from Sandy in Grease to the role I am preparing for at this very moment, Shakespeare's darkest villain, Iago.

What roles are still to come for the little boy who played Trouble, had a taste of the adult world of Show Business and never wanted to leave it? Only time will tell ...

When I was four my baby sister was born. Every day and every night we thought it was time. But we had to keep waiting for her to come because she was a bit late. Then one night I woke up at 3.20 in the morning, screaming. I didn't know it was 3.20 am - I couldn't tell the time yet. The adults told me later. We lived in London at the time and it was the beginning of February and very cold.

I was screaming for my Mum. I remember waiting for her but she didn't come. Instead my uncle met me and said, 'Jess, Jess, your Mum has gone to the hospital. The baby's on the way!' I remember being so excited but also a little scared. My Mum and I had never been apart.

I remember snuggling in to my uncle's side on the sofa-bed in the loungeroom. He turned on the television and we stayed there for a while. I remember watching and talking to him. He said one minute I was awake and then the next he looked down and I was sound asleep. He looked at the clock - it was 3.40 am.

A few hours later my Nanna and Dad walked in. I woke up straight away and my Nanna told me I had a tiny, new baby sister. She helped me get dressed quickly so I could go and meet her.

We hurried to the hospital and found Mum's room. I couldn't believe how small the baby was. How tiny her toes and fingers were. Her cry was even small. I climbed on the bed and gave Mum a big hug. I remember thinking how relieved I was to see - and feel - that she was all right.

Mum and my Uncle Rob began talking to each other. Mum hugged me tightly and asked Rob, 'How was she last night?'

He said, 'Great - until just after three.'

Mum laughed, 'Me too.'

He said, 'What do you mean?'

Mum said, 'I think it was exactly twenty minutes past three when the real work began. My goodness, it hurt so much and was so hard, I was screaming.'

Rob said, 'I can't believe it. Jessica woke up at exactly 3.20 am, screaming.'

I remember Mum looked at me and whispered in my ear, 'Always knew we were still connected.'

Then Rob said, 'What time was the baby actually born?'

Mum said, 'Finally, at twenty to four...'

She stopped talking because Rob was looking at her in amazement. 'That is exactly the time Jess fell back to sleep in my arms,' he said. I remember everyone - Mum, Rob, my Nanna and my Dad - looking at me. No one said anything for a while. Mum just hugged me even harder.

Mum, my little sister, Tessa, and I all live back in Australia now. This story has grown up with me. I remember most of it. The grown-ups have filled in some of the details but it is all still very clear in my mind. The story is now family legend.

Mum and I are still connected - we still feel each other's feelings, good and bad, happy and sad. My Mum says I know her heart and my sister Tessa knows her mind. She knows all about us, too. But that makes sense, I guess, because we are a family.

My story begins in Saigon, Vietnam, when I was just two years old. My Mum and Dad had taken me to Saigon to visit their families. I had lost both my grandmothers who had died many years before I was born. I still had two grandfathers. One was blind and the other was a fitness fanatic.

I remembered our arrival at Tan Son Nhat Airport. Everything looked so different, compared with Australia. When we got to my maternal Grandfather's place (the fitness fanatic one) the house was full of relatives who came especially to welcome us. Everybody tried to make me feel at home by cuddling and touching me, especially my young cousins. I cried my eyes out and in the end had to be put to sleep.

On waking up the next day, I looked out of the window and hey, presto! There was a rooster, the very first rooster that I had ever seen. It started crowing, and on hearing the sound I was so frightened that I started to cry. After a while I calmed down and was happy and bouncy again.

I began running around the house playing with other children. There were many children around for me to play with at any time of the day. Another thing in Vietnam was that dogs, cats and other domestic animals such as chickens and ducks were allowed to roam free, not only in the yard but also inside the house. My Grandpa encouraged his dogs to jump up and play with me. I was so scared that I barricaded myself on a divan, never to set foot on the ground again for the rest of the day.

My Grandpa's house was surrounded by a huge garden. My Mum brought me out to chase colourful butterflies and dragonflies. It was the first time I had seen such beautiful creatures and I really wanted to catch them. As my Mum was carrying me on her hip, I directed her with my legs to go after them.

My Mum got stung by a couple of dragonflies while trying to catch them for me. In the end, we caught a blue dragonfly. Mum tied a very fine string around its neck and I held on to the other end. It flew around the garden like an aeroplane. There were not many plastic toys around but we managed to amuse ourselves with multi-coloured beetles, butterflies and chameleons.

We came back to Australia with Grandpa, who decided to come to Sydney for a visit. He did not speak English and I did not know any Vietnamese. It was a very interesting time for both of us. We communicated mostly by sign language. Everything here in Australia was strange to him. He could never understand why apples here cost so little while chillies, bananas and cucumbers were so expensive. In Vietnam it was very much the other way around.

He made several beautiful bookshelves, a unique letterbox and many other great pieces for us. He was a pattern maker by trade and was very skilful with his hands. He liked painting and often went around the house with a paintbrush in his hands to apply paint to anything and everything. One day he painted the sandstone foundation of our house with a liquid cement mix. My Mum went ballistic and ordered him to scrub it off with a wire brush. My Grandpa would rather forget this incident but my Mum would never allow him to live this down.

He stayed on for a year, then left us to go back home. I missed him so. I hope to see him again one day.

©TalentEd is located at the School of Education, University of New England, Armidale, Australia.

This page updated: 23 January 2006 Webmaker: Howard Smith. hsmith4@une.edu.au