A born dancer?
‘You don’t realise the true proportions of someone until you see them in a leotard,’ thought Sylvia. Fully dressed, Miranda was elegant and rather pretty. She was almost six feet tall and broad-shouldered and had the milky skin that so often goes with tawny hair.
She had taken ballet classes since she was four years old and was now seventeen. In the autumn she would be going to university and her dancing lesson days would be behind her.
Sylvia had encouraged her daughter to continue dancing lessons, recognising early on that the little girl was not going to develop into a small and dainty adult. She would need the discipline of dance or sport to teach her to coordinate her limbs. Miranda had never been interested in athletics or games, and didn’t care for swimming, but she had enjoyed dancing.
The introductory music started, and the audience ceased their chattering. First onto the stage tripped the very smallest girls and one little boy. They looked so sweet as they galloped around to the music, looking at each other to make sure they were doing the right thing. One of the children was very lissom and floated across the stage like thistledown. Miranda had never been like that, Sylvia thought, smiling a little sadly.
The more advanced classes followed, consisting mostly of girls with one or two boys. The differences in physique were more noticeable in the older students. Some were slim and fine-boned and in perfect proportion, while others were undergoing the tribulations of sudden growth spurts, when limbs didn’t quite match heads or trunks. Miranda had often seemed ungainly in her early teens but now looked much more balanced.
At last it was the turn of Miranda’s class to perform. All girls, they wore pointe shoes which clonked across the wooden boards of the village hall. Each dancer in turn performed a short solo and then they danced an ensemble piece. Miranda stood head and shoulders above the rest of the chorus. She had not been placed in the centre, where her mother had expected her to be, but off to the side, almost out of view. As the girls danced, Sylvia began to understand why. Miranda was always half a beat behind the others.
Through the years, Sylvia had noticed that her daughter’s timing was slightly askew when she played the piano or her guitar, but she had never recognised until now just how poor it was. As she reflected on this, she realised it had not improved and may even have become slightly worse as the years rolled by.
Over dinner that evening, Miranda confided in her mother that she was glad she would never have to dance on stage again. ’You know, Mum, everybody thinks I’m a terrible dancer, but I’m glad I stuck at it. My timing’s dreadful but dancing has taught me how to hold my head up high and always do my best.’
Sylvia
smiled and squeezed her daughter’s hand. ‘I’m glad, too,’ she said.
Life is an experience. There is always something to learn from everything. Good and bad are all comparative labels that don't mean much. What's most important is our endurance, and everything, even something very tiny, that we imbibe from it.
ReplyDeleteThe important thing is to learn from the experience, and not allow it to govern us.
DeleteI used to play for an infant ballet class, with a lovely young German teacher. The continental system for ballet, and I think music, isn't all the relentless series of graded exams we have here and she was far more concerned for natural development and freedomof expression. Her teenage assistant was a tall, slightly gawky girl; the teacher commented to me after a lesson that ballet was so good for the girl as it was teaching her to stand straight and tall, and not slump and try and hide her height. Very perceptive, I thought.
ReplyDeleteVery perceptive, as you say.
DeleteThis is a lovely story and reminds me of the days my two oldest grandchildren, boy and girl, took ballet and music lessons. One of the others girls had Down Syndrome, but the pleasure on her face while dancing was well worth the occasional bump or mis-step.
ReplyDeleteThat is so lovely. I am so glad that the days of hiding away children with disabilities are largely over - they have much to teach us.
DeleteA lesson to those of us who were born awkward and clumsy, like me. I am only now starting to accept it. Better late than never!
ReplyDeleteAlthough I deplore the 'you're wonderful at everything' trend, I do feel that encouragement is always far better than dismissal. Self-fulfilling prophecies are no good to anyone.
DeleteBallet is blissful for young girls. I learned from age 4 until my final year of high school, but I still get pleasure posing in front of my mirror now, 60 years later.
ReplyDeleteI'm sure your deportment is excellent, too.
DeleteThis is a poignant story that highlights the value of perseverance and personal growth, showing that dedication and character often outweigh natural talent.
ReplyDeleteMy inspiration for this story was a friend's tall, statuesque daughter, a lovely person.
DeleteWhat a wonderful story and the lesson that she took away from the dancing was a valuable one.
ReplyDeleteIt's based on a young girl I knew, who is now a graceful and accomplished adult.
DeleteI am reminded of my granddaughter’s dancing days. I loved her few recitals and her spirit. The meanness and cattiness of the more coordinated girls drove her out prematurely.
ReplyDeleteThat is so sad. I wonder how those girls developed, socially, emotionally.
DeleteNow't to do with you personally.
ReplyDeleteNo. I would have loved to dance but didn't have the opportunity. Just as well - I'm more athletic than balletic! 🤣😁
ReplyDeleteLovely story.
ReplyDelete🩰🩰
DeleteYou may not be the best but doing it boosts your confidence.
ReplyDeleteIt's all to do with confidence.
DeleteI really enjoyed this, thanks for the lovely story.
ReplyDeleteThank you. 🩰
DeleteI went through (endless!) years of dance lessons - ballet, jazz, and tap - with my two girls. It was hard (and expensive) at the time, but now I look back on all that as precious memories.
ReplyDeleteThese pursuits are expensive, but well worth it for the pleasure and confidence they give.
DeleteIt was not a waste
ReplyDeleteDefinitely not.
DeleteI always wanted to go to dancing classes when little but there was no money for that so I was determined my daughter would and she loved it, and it gave her confidence and did it till she was 14 then horses was her love!
ReplyDeleteYour story made me think of Lady Diana who was too tall to dance ! I never wanted to become a classical dancer and die like the Swan, but apparently I was a very good dancer in all modern dances, like Rock'n Roll, Rick and I were so good together that people asked us to perform and they watched, and he throw me over his shoulder ! (long time ago) I feel better since today, and we have nice weather too, not to warm and not to cold.
ReplyDeleteI've never learned to dance. Dancing is not my thing.
ReplyDeleteAn enjoyable read and a very nice story.
ReplyDeleteI thought the ending was brilliant!
All the best Jan