I put up a poll last week, as everybody seemed to notice, and by everyone, I mean two people. (PS: I have a new poll too) It was about what to write about next. The result was a unanimous decision for me to write about my dance story. Just a warning, if you want a happy and funny post, skip this one.
So, it all started out in 6th grade, when my dad got his sabbatical, a thing where if you work hard and be a good boy, you can travel abroad for six months or a year to work there. This doesn’t happen often and my dad got the opportunity to do this. As I am bilingual and have been since I was a fetus child, I went to a Swedish school and met some amazing and tall friends.
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| I was short okay (Picture was taken by Rebecca on my terrible old phone) |
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| The last day of school in Sweden (Pictures taken by my mom) |
Anyway, I danced there, with crappy teachers in crappy studios just so I wouldn't stray too far behind in dance when I came back to the United States, and so that I could be with my friends when I came back. It was amazing. I took a 'jazz funk' class about half an hour away and traveled every Monday and Thursday on the subway for an hour to ballet and tap at a dance school in Sweden. It was too late to join academy teams by the time we realised that those are always better.
Anyway, I got back to the United States and since I had missed auditions, went to two different dance groups during academy camp. I started at a lower level but then got moved up and joined the best dance team in the history of the world. (Sorry anyone else) They were amazing and kind and caring and sweet and I loved them to death.
I was with them for two glorious years of laughter. In fact, at the studio, we were told that we were the closest dance group and I honestly and completely agree, we had sleepovers every other month on average I think, though I was only able to participate in two. I did feel slightly behind sometimes, but by the end of the year, I always felt that I was caught up, until I wasn't. After the results for Academy were posted, I was devastated. My friends were in Teen C (Ballet 7) and Senior A (Ballet 8A), which was amazing, but I, a former Ballet 6er, was moved to Teen A (Ballet 4) and Ballet 6 again. It hurt so badly and as an extremely self conscious person, I blamed myself for everything. I had been moved down two levels and would have to move up 4 levels the next year in order to be with my friends.
My mom blamed the dance studio and wanted me to be happy so she asked if I wanted to go to the other dance studio in Park City, but I had been in this one since I was 3 and I refused, after of course breaking down on the floor at the dance studio crying and saying I didn't want to dance anymore because it hurt so much. I went home that day and started a slideshow (Please don't click the link unless you were in the dance group), so that I could show it on the last day of dance. We were all a weeping mess and it was amazing. I remember Sawyer, one of the dance teacher's daughters coming in and saying that none of the people in her group were hugging or crying. I miss them so much and often keep blaming myself.
During the summer, we met with two of the dance teachers and they both had the same reason that they moved me down because of my year in Sweden, but I find fault in that. First of all, why wasn't I told and second of all, why was I moved up.
Now, three months plus a few more of staying up all night crying and blaming myself, I have finally accepted that there's nothing to do but keep dancing and hoping that someday it'll get better. I don't feel challenged in jazz or tap, and I wish I were more challenged but there's nothing I can do about that.
To end this on a happy note, I got the part of an Arabian for Nutcracker! I will be travelling to schools and performing and it's going to be great. It's my first call back ever as well as my first role ever.
PS: Sorry for the rant, I just needed to get this out of my system and wanted to express my honest opinion.
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