dance lesson
January 23, 2011 § 3 Comments
In a moment I could not have predicted, a routine childhood experience taught me an extraordinary lesson.
My daughter lives in a space of possibility. Each day we begin a new story weaving dramatic moments into the mundane; I quietly marvel at her creativity and confidence. Countless evenings my husband, son, and I fulfill the role of audience to living room theater and dance performances. Some time ago, hoping to draw upon my daughter’s natural interests, I enrolled her in a popular local dance class.
Prior to the first class I enthusiastically prepared for a new chapter in my daughter’s life. I purchased leotards, required shoes, tights, and tote. When the big day came the air around my daughter was charged with electricity born of her enthusiasm.
In the studio, the girls gathered around the instructor, each a familiar face to the teacher and one another. I held my breath hoping my daughter would find her place among the tiny tutus. As the group began the ritual of stretching my daughter looked lost, but stumbled into the others’ examples with a smile and eagerness to learn. My daughter’s joy was mine and I relaxed into the background of mothers visiting quietly in the adjoining room.
With the sudden unexpectedness of lightning on a cloudless summer day, the teacher said something unkind to my daughter. I watched my ballerina stop, the teacher’s words washing over her and robbing her of her smile. As clearly as I shared her joy, the heartache and confusion casting pain in my daughter’s eyes stole my breath.
Quickly my mind asked “Why?” and “How do I help?” Just as I was searching my mind for how to mother and protect, my daughter lifted her tear-stained face and approached the teacher. In a small, but firm voice my daughter said; “Excuse me. What you said hurt my feelings. You should say sorry.” And then my own tears came as easily as my heart filled with pride. My daughter’s spirit eclipsed the injury.
A couple of years have passed, but the picture I took on that first day of class hangs proudly in our home. It is the day my daughter taught me a lesson about life and how to live gracefully with pride.
scribblechic 
This recounting is so spot on. You told the story in a way that made me feel each second, each smile, each sting. Beautifully done.
My heart swells with love and pride for the both of you.
Love this! I think you should alert “This American Life” that they should get your paycheck ready.
[…] have passed since the unfortunate lesson that invited harm. I honored your departure from dance, some days worried another had robbed you of […]