ballet

Little Miss A started ballet classes this Saturday.  She'll be going once a week for eighteen weeks, and already it was exciting to see progress happen in the first session.  I'm not talking about her picking up new skills just yet.  I mean the progress of seeing her relax, smile and join in with the group.

She loves to dance around home.  A year ago, a little friend of hers handed down some dance clothes and tap shoes that have been main staples in her weekly wardrobe ever since (except the shoes, as of late - her feet outgrew them).  It just seemed like a great fit to start her in dance classes as a way to get her being active, listening to an instructor, trusting herself amidst a group and developing skills.  Somehow we've just never looked at her and seen 'soccer star' in her genes.

The day before classes started, we went shopping to pick out her ballet slippers, tights, and bodysuit.  She started off being completely unwilling to sit down in the little chair to try on the shoes.  She turned rigid and panicky and started up that hysterical whine that raises my blood pressure.  It's just trying on shoes!  This girl just does not like new situations.  How does she know the child-sized chair won't fall apart?  How can she tell if the sweet and petite sales lady plans to eat her or not?  She relaxed soon enough and turned off the panic pretty quickly, but it reminded me again that the next day - dropping her off for dance class - was going to be a challenge, no matter how well we prepped her.

Sure enough, she did panic.  She clung to me and refused to line up with the other little kids to walk into class.  Once I got her in the class, she refused to sit with the others in the circle.  She was so afraid and I felt so helpless and embarrassed and unsure what to say to help her.  While it felt like forever to me, it didn't really take long before she allowed me to inch away.  I stayed in the room, against the back wall, and watched her participate in the most "don't notice me" way possible, furtively glancing my way for reassurance.  Mid-way through the class, she was willing to quietly join the group as they moved about the room, and soon she was smiling so big as she realized this was exactly the kind of class she was expecting (not a place where children break their legs or get thrown out of windows ... I don't know).

It helped immensely that there was a spunky, outgoing little girl who took a shining to Avery.  She patted the open spot beside her for Avery to come close.  She admired Avery's sparkly skirt.  She held her hand.  She was exactly what Avery needed.

After class, she said to us "I just loved that so much!" and couldn't get enough attention back home as she shared what they had done and what she had learned.  Next time will be better.  I'm sure of it.