Normal is a Myth
- Megan Case
- 4 days ago
- 4 min read
One week ago, we opened The Lightning Thief: The Percy Jackson Musical at NNU Little Theatre, and it was an experience that left me in absolute awe of this incredibly talented cast of young performers.
At Sound & Stage, we believe educational theatre should be exactly that: educational, collaborative, welcoming, and deeply human. It is a space where performers of all experience levels come together to tell stories that move us. From the very first rehearsal to the splashes during final bows, this production reminded all of us exactly why we do what we do.
The Story
A lot of heart and intention goes into selecting our shows each season. Sometimes it’s a lighthearted summer musical that reminds us to stay true to ourselves, embrace friendship, and dance badly in a country club pool like High School Musical. Other times, it’s an epic tale of monsters, myths, impossible odds, and learning to stand boldly in who you are.
Rick Riordan created Percy Jackson as a bedtime story for his son, who struggled with dyslexia, ADHD, and the heavy feeling of being “different.” He took the very things that made a young boy feel isolated and transformed them into superpowers.
During the show, my nephew sat in the audience while Annabeth listed Percy’s strengths and whispered, “That’s just like me!”
Written in the 1990s. Published in 2005. Performed by Sound & Stage in 2026. And those words are still doing exactly what they were meant to do.
No one leaves the theatre thinking they can fight a Minotaur. (Although honestly, some of this
cast probably would try.) But they do leave realizing they are not alone. They leave understanding that “normal” really is a myth.
ADHD, dyslexia, anxiety, big feelings, awkwardness, struggling to fit into neat little boxes, these things do not make you broken. They make you resilient. They make you creative. They make you strong.
Percy Jackson reminds us that the world may constantly try to shove people into black-and-white boxes, but sometimes the correct response is to stuff Medusa’s head inside the box instead and keep marching forward with complete impertinence.
And Percy, Annabeth, and Grover would absolutely cheer for that choice.
Sally Jackson tells us that being different makes us strong, and that no one is truly “normal.” We all have monsters to fight and obstacles to overcome, but we do not have to face them alone.
From day one, this cast talked about what it meant to be worthy of this story. What it meant to handle vulnerable moments with authenticity and care so the audience could see themselves reflected in these characters.
The eight-year-old who sees himself in Percy. The anxious teen desperately trying to be a good kid while still figuring themselves out. The kid crushed beneath impossible expectations. The people carrying hurt, failure, shame, fear, or the aching feeling that maybe they just are not enough.
This cast allowed the spotlight to shine on their own vulnerabilities, and I hope that while they
were busy telling the audience, “You are enough exactly as you are,” a small part of them believed it about themselves too.
Because that is part of the magic of Percy Jackson.
The Class Experience
Sound & Stage is a place for everyone. A safe place for everyone. A place where every journey matters and every student belongs.
If you sign up for a class, you are in the cast. Everyone gets a role. Everyone has a place in the story. Everyone gets a moment to shine.
We are incredibly lucky to live in an area with such a vibrant theatre community and so many opportunities for young performers. We celebrate every production happening across the valley, and we are always cheering loudly from the audience.
Sound & Stage exists for students of all experience levels to discover a love for the arts.
Every student walks into rehearsal with a different story, a different comfort level, and a different starting point. Growth is never measured against someone else in the cast. The only comparison that matters is who you were on the first day versus who you became by closing night.
For some performers, the victory was simply stepping on stage. For some, it was remembering one line and delivering it exactly how they hoped. For some, it was making it through choreography without needing a break. For some, it was discovering a new level of vulnerability, confidence, or vocal strength they didn’t know they had.
From the grand, show-stopping moments to the quiet personal victories backstage, every single performer had something worth celebrating.
And for those who have never experienced theatre, it is hard to explain everything poured into a production, especially during show week. The nerves. The adrenaline. The chaos. The tears. The inside jokes. The panic over props mysteriously disappearing three minutes before places, using the director's purse as a stand in, or an entirely improvised scenes between sibling gods to stall for time. The triumph of somehow making it work anyway. (If you know, you know.)
There is a reason theatre kids, regardless of age, cry for days after a show closes. We are exhausted, yes. But we are also deeply proud. Changed forever by the stories we told together and the people we became while telling them.
To the Cast,
It was an honor to be your director!
Pride is not the word I'm looking for, there is so much more...
I saw your journey. I saw you overcome fear. I saw you fight for the story you wanted to tell, and you told it beautifully.
You told it with vulnerability, humor, courage, heart, and authenticity. It was not perfect, but we were never striving for perfect.
I did not want perfect.
I wanted messy, real, wholehearted humans telling a meaningful story together.
And you, my incredibly talented demigods, you absolutely knocked it out of the park!
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