Here is a story for you, sit back and prepare for a novel of a read today;
Once upon a time, there was a spunky, short haired tomboy of a young girl who wanted to learn to dance. Her fourth grade teacher had announced an after school ballet class that would be taught in the gym and she was very excited. She ran home and begged her mom, who readily agreed and signed her up for the community ballet class.
This little girl was happy going to her ballet class for a few weeks, then two dreadful things happened. Firstly, a new girl moved into her class. The new girl's name was Denise. Denise had long, dark hair that was pulled back with a clip every day. Denise had a white blouse and plaid skirt with a large, shiny brass safety pin accessory on the front of it. Denise was a little ballerina. She didn't just come to class, she 'arrived'.
When our little dancer told Denise that she was a dancer, too (hoping to make friends), Denise asked where she took ballet. When being told it was at the gym of the school, Denise turned her nose up and said in disdain "That's not real ballet! I take ballet at a ballet studio. I am dancing in the Nutcracker with Pacific Northwest Ballet." And with a sniff, she marched away. Our little dancer was crushed and humiliated.
The second dreadful thing that happened was the fact that some of the boys from school would sometimes pop their heads in the gym and tease the little dancers about their hair, leotards, and poses. Our little dancer because ashamed of her hair, leotard, and poses.
That is why, when it was time to pay for a new semester of dance, our little would-be dancer said 'no, thanks' even though the teacher told her that she held much promise. Her mom was confused and frustrated with her for what seemed to have been a waste of time and family resources.
Yes, that little would-be dancer was me.
Now, fast forward about 17 years. I was a young mother trying to get the laundry done and finding it very difficult with an overly hyper 3 year old daughter to watch. Nothing would settle little Helena so I could get the work done. It was near to Christmas time, so I scanned channels on the TV, hoping to find a cartoon for her to watch. Nothing I found held her interest until I stumbled across The Nutcracker on the local PBS station. She was riveted! She did not move a muscle for the entire performance! I got the laundry done!
For weeks after, Helena twirled around the apartment saying "Look, Mommy! I'm Clara!"
I could read the writing on the wall.
We initially chose to put her in a jazz/tap/tumbling/ballet dance studio because it was run by our across the way and down the street neighbor. We quickly realized it was a no go. There was too much shimmy and shake going on at that studio, and Helena was a bit of a discipline problem. A little research uncovered a studio that taught only pure, classical ballet. We signed her up.
Little girl ballet is awfully cute! For 1/2 an hour once a week, I would sit on the other side of a one sided mirror window and watch with other Mommies as our little ones twirled around in a joy of movement.
Most little girls outgrow ballet and move on to other interests. One quit for soccer, another for violin, others for school council, golf, and ballroom. As the years went by, one by one Helena's old ballet classmates dropped out. I kept waiting for Helena to lose the fire, too.
She never did. Oh, sure, for a little while when she was about 8 she would say "Mom, I don't feel like going to ballet today."
I would respond, "That's fine, dear. But if you don't go today, you're not going ever. You have to decide. You either go, or you don't. There is no wishy-washy in-between." She always chose to go to ballet.
Now that she is a big, nearly grown up girl, ballet costs a small mint and consumes considerable time. But, the fire still burns within her and I wouldn't dream of denying her the opportunity to explore that passion within her. There is a saying that is something like 'if you can't find good love, you'll take the bad'. That is how I feel about dance. If I don't provide the opportunity to study the pure, classical ballet (which costs more), she would undoubtedly turn to what passes for dance in popular culture (which can be found in any cheap dance class).
So, here we are, today. I don't know if the years of training will blossom into a career, or if she will simply go another way. If she chooses to become a photographer instead, I am okay with that. We come to this world to learn all we can about ourselves and to develop those gifts given to us by our Heavenly Father. I will continue to help my kids develop in every way I can until they are no longer my responsibility. Then, I hope they will continue on their own!
Once upon a time, there was a spunky, short haired tomboy of a young girl who wanted to learn to dance. Her fourth grade teacher had announced an after school ballet class that would be taught in the gym and she was very excited. She ran home and begged her mom, who readily agreed and signed her up for the community ballet class.
This little girl was happy going to her ballet class for a few weeks, then two dreadful things happened. Firstly, a new girl moved into her class. The new girl's name was Denise. Denise had long, dark hair that was pulled back with a clip every day. Denise had a white blouse and plaid skirt with a large, shiny brass safety pin accessory on the front of it. Denise was a little ballerina. She didn't just come to class, she 'arrived'.
When our little dancer told Denise that she was a dancer, too (hoping to make friends), Denise asked where she took ballet. When being told it was at the gym of the school, Denise turned her nose up and said in disdain "That's not real ballet! I take ballet at a ballet studio. I am dancing in the Nutcracker with Pacific Northwest Ballet." And with a sniff, she marched away. Our little dancer was crushed and humiliated.
The second dreadful thing that happened was the fact that some of the boys from school would sometimes pop their heads in the gym and tease the little dancers about their hair, leotards, and poses. Our little dancer because ashamed of her hair, leotard, and poses.
That is why, when it was time to pay for a new semester of dance, our little would-be dancer said 'no, thanks' even though the teacher told her that she held much promise. Her mom was confused and frustrated with her for what seemed to have been a waste of time and family resources.
Yes, that little would-be dancer was me.
Now, fast forward about 17 years. I was a young mother trying to get the laundry done and finding it very difficult with an overly hyper 3 year old daughter to watch. Nothing would settle little Helena so I could get the work done. It was near to Christmas time, so I scanned channels on the TV, hoping to find a cartoon for her to watch. Nothing I found held her interest until I stumbled across The Nutcracker on the local PBS station. She was riveted! She did not move a muscle for the entire performance! I got the laundry done!
For weeks after, Helena twirled around the apartment saying "Look, Mommy! I'm Clara!"
I could read the writing on the wall.
We initially chose to put her in a jazz/tap/tumbling/ballet dance studio because it was run by our across the way and down the street neighbor. We quickly realized it was a no go. There was too much shimmy and shake going on at that studio, and Helena was a bit of a discipline problem. A little research uncovered a studio that taught only pure, classical ballet. We signed her up.
Little girl ballet is awfully cute! For 1/2 an hour once a week, I would sit on the other side of a one sided mirror window and watch with other Mommies as our little ones twirled around in a joy of movement.
Most little girls outgrow ballet and move on to other interests. One quit for soccer, another for violin, others for school council, golf, and ballroom. As the years went by, one by one Helena's old ballet classmates dropped out. I kept waiting for Helena to lose the fire, too.
She never did. Oh, sure, for a little while when she was about 8 she would say "Mom, I don't feel like going to ballet today."
I would respond, "That's fine, dear. But if you don't go today, you're not going ever. You have to decide. You either go, or you don't. There is no wishy-washy in-between." She always chose to go to ballet.
Now that she is a big, nearly grown up girl, ballet costs a small mint and consumes considerable time. But, the fire still burns within her and I wouldn't dream of denying her the opportunity to explore that passion within her. There is a saying that is something like 'if you can't find good love, you'll take the bad'. That is how I feel about dance. If I don't provide the opportunity to study the pure, classical ballet (which costs more), she would undoubtedly turn to what passes for dance in popular culture (which can be found in any cheap dance class).
So, here we are, today. I don't know if the years of training will blossom into a career, or if she will simply go another way. If she chooses to become a photographer instead, I am okay with that. We come to this world to learn all we can about ourselves and to develop those gifts given to us by our Heavenly Father. I will continue to help my kids develop in every way I can until they are no longer my responsibility. Then, I hope they will continue on their own!
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