As far back as I can remember, I was taking ballet
lessons. Some of my earliest memories
are of my mom braiding my hair, sticking bobby pins in my hair, poking me, the
pearl beaded hair net on top and the scent of hair spray, where I had to hold
my nose and cover my mouth so I would not have the awful taste in my mouth. I had ballet in VA. When my dad got stationed to Hawaii, I was
enrolled in the state ballet company. I remember
taking classes with Miss Gina, playing on the piano, having a boy come into just one class, the
excitement of having my first big performance in a major ballet, dancing in the
Nutcracker. I remember being amazed at
all the older girls. My best friend Anna and I were excited to dance. I was
a doll in my first Nutcracker performance. In class, bar work came first, then floor work,
then stretching.
On stage. My anxiety was mounting; I couldn’t stand it. The spotlight on me. It was cool in my costume. I remembered everything. I didn’t know how. I remembered to smile broadly. I got a medal I could take home, and I was given a rose. I was so excited. Then, I remember practicing my routines, hearing the music. I watched the older girls practice and whirl around. I watched the male instructor yell at them. He seemed so mean, yet I understood why he pushed them. I was depressed I couldn’t take ballet anymore. When we moved, I got lessons again, and I loved it. I was determined to be the best ballerina.
I talked to Momma that I wanna be a ballerina when I grew up. I heard about New York City Ballet company, where the work was hard, but I thought I could do it. How wonderful to wake up every day, wearing the leotards, tights, leg warmers, and jackets, and go to work to practice. I read books. I loved the Nutcracker music, loved my figurines. Then I learned point. So exciting. Then the instructor moved away. There was no better instructor. I was entering high school now. More schoolwork, and I had no time to practice. I was sad it was over. Empty. Somehow I thought I could resume it later. Practiced a little hear and there. Stared at my book with pictures and dance terms. Life moved on, my dream slowly replaced as I read more books. To this day, bobby pins, buns, Nutcracker music, and pink ballet shoes hold a place in my heart. I traded in point shoes for pencils and notebooks.
On stage. My anxiety was mounting; I couldn’t stand it. The spotlight on me. It was cool in my costume. I remembered everything. I didn’t know how. I remembered to smile broadly. I got a medal I could take home, and I was given a rose. I was so excited. Then, I remember practicing my routines, hearing the music. I watched the older girls practice and whirl around. I watched the male instructor yell at them. He seemed so mean, yet I understood why he pushed them. I was depressed I couldn’t take ballet anymore. When we moved, I got lessons again, and I loved it. I was determined to be the best ballerina.
I talked to Momma that I wanna be a ballerina when I grew up. I heard about New York City Ballet company, where the work was hard, but I thought I could do it. How wonderful to wake up every day, wearing the leotards, tights, leg warmers, and jackets, and go to work to practice. I read books. I loved the Nutcracker music, loved my figurines. Then I learned point. So exciting. Then the instructor moved away. There was no better instructor. I was entering high school now. More schoolwork, and I had no time to practice. I was sad it was over. Empty. Somehow I thought I could resume it later. Practiced a little hear and there. Stared at my book with pictures and dance terms. Life moved on, my dream slowly replaced as I read more books. To this day, bobby pins, buns, Nutcracker music, and pink ballet shoes hold a place in my heart. I traded in point shoes for pencils and notebooks.
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