Strict Instruction Equals Unbalanced Emotions

Dancing has taken over our household this year.  Not just the schedule, but it’s slowly creeping into every area of our lives.  Jazz, Ballet, Lyrical, even some acrobatics.  Maddie pirouettes on a high relevé through the living room.  She visits with me in the kitchen with one leg extended on the barre (I mean the counter top) while her arms are in a perfect second position.  She does a one-person kick line down the hall, and front walkovers on the grass.

She can’t get enough dancing.  It’s engrained in her 11 year-old-mind.

But recently a little bit of the spark started to dim.  She was placed in a higher-level Jazz class.  So now instead of great enthusiasm for her classes, her Tuesday afternoons are filled with a little dread and a lot of nerves for the evening ahead. And instead of joyfully leaping with perfectly pointed toes as she exits the studio, she’s on the verge of tears.

This kills me as a mom.  Everything in me wants to give her instructor a piece of my mind.

But then, wisdom creeps into the recesses of my mind, and I hear that still, small voice:

You can’t protect her from everything.

This is how real life is sometimes.  She needs to learn that.

The challenge is good for her.

It’s not mean instruction, it’s just stricter than she’s used to.

I shared these thoughts with Maddie and she simply said, “I know, Mom.”  It wasn’t a snide comment while she rolled her eyes and folded her arms across her chest.  It was sincere.

She really does know.

We talked some more and decided that nerves are good sometimes.  And it’s okay to shed a tear when you feel frustrated with yourself.  Every instructor is different, but the strict ones will be remembered longer.

So it’s been decided.  As long as the passion is not lost.  As long as dance is still fun.  We will get through Jazz 3. And perhaps learn some great life lessons in the process.