Miss Rebecca

When dance lessons were over, younger sister Julie and I sat outside waiting on Mom. Meanwhile Lynn and Gail, my older two sisters, would still have been in their classes. If my memory serves me correctly, this was a weekly routine for me during the ages of about six through ten. Miss Rebecca taught the younger dance students; but if you were older, you had Miss Melanie.

Miss Rebecca seemed to take pleasure in our young silliness as we wiggled our toes and scampered about on the wooden floor. Her skin shone with its beautiful tan. I longed to be her, though my quest for tanned skin has been a fruitless error over the years. When I played house my name was always Rebecca. Being so little, I only remember bits and pieces of these days.

I believe we tapped (also known as some shoe noise) to a song entitled “Sing, Sing a Song”. (Looking it up this morning, I realized it was originally written for “Sesame Street”, but the Carpenter’s made it famous.) Some flutes and a cheery chorus accompanied them. I remembered the line “don’t worry if it’s not good enough for anyone else to hear; just sing, sing a song”. I think she was trying to help us to enjoy the process of learning. These were such carefree and golden moments.

Miss Melanie

My view of Miss Melanie, was always on the sidelines because our little giggles were not encouraged in her studio. For she was bonding and crafting the artistry of the ballet in her young women. In my tiny eyes, Miss Melanie was a portrait of a ballerina come to life with all her elegance and dignity. The girls under her tutelage were transforming into graceful swans.

During the years that I peeked into her dance academy (also known as the old YMCA transformed into a make-shift conservatory), the young ladies were twirling into young adults by way of pirouettes and demi plie’s.  A few girls other than my sisters, were mastering the arabesque in their toe shoes.

Oh, how I longed for that moment. In her jazz classes, the lyrics, Do the Hussle came to life. I would stand in the hallway trying to pick up her instructions and be one of the older girls.  I think I had a better chance imitating a jazz dancer than a graceful older ballerina.

Kathryn and Stella Kate

Last week, I watched two of my great nieces who are four, in their own ballet recital. The theme of the recital was Beauty and the Beast. The older girls acted out the movie with the rehearsed dances shuffled throughout. Their instructor Roseanne took dance with Lynn and Gail. She had lovingly labored over the skills, organization, props, and stage presence vital in pulling off a show of such magnitude.

Personally speaking, I watched two giggling and timely-clumsy, four-year-old girls having the time of their lives. Shy and stubborn in their own ways, my little nieces pointed and twirled in their own little world. Their performances delighted the audience. I couldn’t help thinking, how like me all those years ago, these girls were learning to be confident and graceful.

True Beauty

At the all-important moment in the drama when Beauty and the Beast dance, a group of girls sauntered onto the stage. Beauty and the Beast were in the background while these cuties were twirling their rehearsed dance. I noticed two of the girls were older. I realized their dance was a little different. They likely had some special needs.

The recital’s themes, beauty is far below skin-level, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and everyone God created is beautiful, was magnified at that moment.

And my eyes were filled with tears from their beauty.