CLEARWATER -- On the first day of a summer drama class, the director asked a student to say her name and age as she would on stage, with confidence and energy.

"I can't do it; I can't do it," the girl said and shrank into a corner.

Fast forward five years. The student, Tiffany Burt of Dunedin, now 12, greets the same director, Melody Craven-Heinz, on the first day of class this summer.

She said her name and more.

"I told my mom that I wanted to come in and knock your socks off today," Tiffany said.

Tiffany is one of 60 youths, 11 to 14 years old, who took an intensive summer musical theater class at Clearwater's Ruth Eckerd Hall called Next Stop Broadway. They came from disparate backgrounds to work together six hours a day for a month to rehearse and perform the Broadway musical Once On This Island. They found their voices through acting, singing and dancing; but they also learned to work hard, do their best and support each other.

The process was daunting and painful at times. Strife divided the cast, which mirrored the plot of the play. But the cast ultimately united as a family in a performance that raised goose bumps.

Once on This Island is a musical based on Rosa Guy's novel, My Love, My Love, which was inspired by Hans Christian Anderson's The Little Mermaid.

On a Caribbean island, a peasant girl falls in love above her status and feels the rejection of the wealthy grands hommes, members of the upper class.

The score the students used was a "junior" edition of the Tony-nominated musical.

"My job is to keep them on task, not an easy job with 60 kids," said director Craven-Heinz.

* * *

One day during the first week of rehearsals, students finished practicing a scene and quickly moved back to the sides, ready to start again.

"That touches my heart," Craven-Heinz said. "That tells me you've got that work ethic going."

A few days later, Rebecca York of Tarpon Springs, 14, jumped frenetically in the lobby as she practiced a spirited dance she would perform as Ti Moune, the peasant girl who falls in love with Daniel, a grand homme. Choreographer Amy Phillips and her assistant, Lindsay English, guided her.

On stage, Craven-Heinz was reviewing lighting plots with light designer Matt Koffel. Students sang at the piano with Cindy Triffon, the musical director. Electricians rode a beeping lift up and down as they worked on the building's electrical service, while 17 residents of a retirement community toured the stage.

Despite the cacophony, Craven-Heinz focused on the singing. "That was just gorgeous," she said. "You have certainly earned a break: 15 minutes."

Later in the day, Craven-Heinz asked the students playing gossiping grands hommes why it would be wrong for one of the characters to marry Ti Moune.

"Because she's a peasant," they answered.

Craven-Heinz said she wanted them to assume a true character as they gossiped about Ti Moune. "I want you to know what this person eats for breakfast," she said. "Why do they think they are better than the peasants?"

The next day, Jordanna Gualtieri of Oldsmar and Palm Harbor, 12, painted blue and purple designs on an umbrella she would dance under in a number called Rain. Another girl made a joke at someone else's expense.

"That was not kind," Jordanna asserted.

Later that day, Craven-Heinz warned students that the cliques must stop. The spirit of the grands hommes had taken hold, with one group looking down on another.

The work continued. Scenes were blocked so that all 60 kids knew where to be through 20 different songs. John Heinz built sets. Clothes from the back of closets became costumes with the help of costume designer Debbie Carreira.

* * *

"Welcome to tech week," Craven-Heinz said on the Monday before the Friday performance.

Tech week, she explained, is pandemonium as directors work with technical crews and run through the show with lighting, scenery and musicians.

Just then, choreographer Amy Phillips burst in the back door to the stage. Shaken and incensed, she faced the students and told them a student was crying her eyes out in the hall. Someone had said they didn't like her shirt or her hair in pigtails.

Craven-Heinz stepped in.

"This program was designed to uplift and edify," she said. "You can destroy a person with actions and words. From this point on, no more chances." Anyone could be replaced.

The work ethic was sagging, too, with too much talk during work time.

"You guys, we have a show on Friday, and as you've probably noticed, we are not ready," said Jimmy Grefenstette of Palm Harbor, 13. Other students asked their peers to quit the talking and try harder.

The next morning, eight girls wore pigtails, apparently in solidarity with the girl who had been picked on.

Things began to turn around.

At Thursday's dress rehearsal, Tampa Baptist Academy students reacted as if the musical were reality. Craven-Heinz heard, "Oh, that's so sad," when Ti Moune said her last "I love you."

And Jake Ransonoff of Tampa, 12 -- who so inhabited his character of Papa Ge, the demon of death, that he was seldom called "Jake" -- scared a 4-year-old into the lobby.

Tapping her fingertips together like the villain Snidely Whiplash, Craven-Heinz said, "Heh, heh, heh. We're manipulating emotions."

"Places!" called Samantha Brown of Tampa, 15, the stage manager and the one to obey on performance night, Aug. 3.

The cast filled the wings and waited for the final position call.

Jordanna's eyes took on a deer-in-the-headlights quality as she warmed up her voice with "Ma, ma, ma, ma, ma." Maybe her blue and purple umbrella wasn't in the right spot on the other side of the stage, she worried. Panic was setting in.

Alex Harris of Palm Harbor, 11, who played Ti Moune's adopted father, put down the lemon he was sucking to clear his voice and took both her hands in his.

"You're fine. You're going to be fine," he said slowly.

After the Friday performance began, a gate off its hinge threatened to disrupt the show. But it never hit the floor. Michelle Salem of Clearwater, 12, caught it from behind the pillar and held it up through the scene.

Ti Moune said her final "I love you" to Daniel, and the audience heard the tears in her voice.

"She was crying because she truly was Ti Moune, not Rebecca York. That makes all the difference in the world to the audience," choreographer Phillips said.

And Tovi Snapstailer of Palm Harbor, 13, as Asaka, the mother of Earth, took the earthy Mama Will Provide to new heights.

"I completely forgot they were children; they were so professional," Phillips said. "The whole stage lit up with their energies and their focus."

Craven-Heinz wrote a note to each cast member afterward. The message she sent to Tiffany, the girl who once couldn't talk on stage, could have gone to any one of them.

"Well, you did it," Craven-Heinz wrote. "You knocked my socks off! I am so proud of you."

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