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I am a big believer in children participating in extracurricular activities. I can’t wait to start my boys in soccer, karate, football, or swim. Maybe they’ll play an instrument or be in a club in school. Whatever they do, I hope they learn as much as I did as a dancer.
I started ballet when I was three years old. I don’t remember the first day of class; I just remember always being a dancer. I spent 13 years dancing. Always ballet with some tap, jazz, and hip hop sprinkled in there. I went to four different studios, sometimes two at the same time.
I loved it.
I felt like I was always in a leotard and tights. Always had my hair in a bun. Always dancing around the house. I wanted to be a professional ballerina. I wanted to teach dance.
All that changed when I screwed up my knee right before I turned 16. I think I’d always known I wasn’t cut out to be a professional dancer. I wasn’t that flexible. Was never quite as good as the other girls. I knew I wanted kids and felt like that clashed with my dancing dreams. I didn’t want to injure myself more…
The night I messed up my knee I remember sitting on my purple comforter with my legs stretched out in front of me and my back against the wall. I had an ice pack wrapped in a white rag sitting on my very swollen knee. I listened to a song about going through hard things we’d just talked about in seminary, and I cried. I knew that was it.
I learned so much from my 13 years of dance. So many lessons I’m not sure I could have learned another way. Or maybe just not as well.
There’s always something else to work on
Always. I remember doing turns or leaps diagonally across the studio floor and hearing my teacher call out corrections. Shoulders down. Chin up. Point your toes. Relax your arms. Straighter legs. Every time I waited in line and crossed the floor again, I would focus on the last correction only to have another, different correction called out to me. The trick is to not take it personally. Fix what you can and keep going. It’s hard to be completely perfect, and corrections are given to those who are trying.
How to take constructive criticism
On the note of not taking things personally… I learned a lot about constructive criticism. As much as I hated feeling called out for my mistakes, my teachers were always nice about how they corrected me. They didn’t tear me down; they told me what I was doing well and what I needed to work on. And how. My teacher used to tell us that criticism wasn’t bad. She wouldn’t correct us if she didn’t think it would help, if she didn’t believe in us that we could do better.
How to work hard
Ballet was hard work. All of my dance classes were. I was constantly sore and tired. I had blisters and bunions and pulled muscles. I did the same steps and combinations and stretches over and over again in class, at home, and in my head during school. I stretched while I watched TV and when I read. I gained stamina and muscles and an appreciation for things that may look simple because you have no idea what it took behind the scenes for someone to learn their skill.
How to take care of my body
In order to dance six or more hours per week after school, I had to take care of myself. I was probably 12 when I stopped drinking soda. I made the decision all by myself. I knew it wasn’t good for my body and that I really didn’t need the junk that was in it. I danced on pointe shoes for years and definitely had to learn to take care of my feet. I used rolls of tape and sheets of blister pads and soaked my feet in Epsom salts regularly. I learned what it took to do something I loved.
How to overcome my fears
The biggest fear when it comes to ballet seems pretty obvious: performing on stage. I can vividly remember being crowded backstage in the dark with all the random stage props. My friends and I would check each other’s hair and makeup and rub the rosin into the tops of our pointe shoes to the sounds of hushed whispers and shushing from the adults. The fear of messing up, falling over, missing my count, forgetting something, or disappointing my teacher disappeared when we walked, or danced, out into the spotlight. I couldn’t see the crowd or the judges or my teacher. To this day, I would rather dance in front of people than get up and talk in front of them.
How to practice, practice, practice
Nothing good in life comes easily. I remember the day I got my first pair of pointe shoes. I was so excited! I couldn’t wait to walk around on my tip-toes, but the shoes felt so stiff and uncomfortable. My very first dance class in pointe shoes my teacher started showing up the combination, and I couldn’t believe the ways I was expected to move my feet in those stiff shoes. It took practice. Hours, days, weeks, months, and to be honest, I never danced all that great in pointe shoes. I would like to believe I got some of the moves down though. I danced constantly growing up. I counted to eight over and over in my head while I moved my hands to do the steps or twitched my feet under my desk in class. I learned the importance and the payoff of practicing.
I still dance around my house. I miss those long evenings dancing in the studio. I miss dress rehearsals, competitions, and running down high school halls in pointe shoes, stage makeup, and giant tutus. I miss the feeling I would get walking out of the studio exhausted and sweaty with my tights pulled up my calves so I could wear flip-flops and my dance bag slung over my shoulder. I miss my dance friends. There’s nothing like a group of dance girls. We supported each other. We made sure everyone had all the right parts of each costume on. We cheered for each other. We had fun together.
I miss those days, and I would love to do it all again.
