I remember one afternoon in college, I was walking across campus and I must have been thinking over something said in class about defining people or something. I was thinking of words to describe who I am in terms of what I'm passionate about. One of the first words that came to mind was that I was a dancer. A second later I thought, wait, no I'm not a dancer anymore. It hit me that I hadn't danced in four or five years at that point and it didn't look like I would regularly dance again, but I still defined myself as a dancer. I remember thinking that I would become one of those moms who sits around the dance studio while their child is in class talking about how they used to dance when they were little and they even went on pointe for awhile, but there's little ability or knowledge left from those few years which are now only a tiny fraction of their life. How could something you only did for a few years define you? I realized then that there would need to be a day, probably coming soon where I wouldn't be able to think of myself as a dancer anymore because it simply wasn't true.
I started dancing when I was four or five. I think I took ballet lessons for three years until I was moved up to Ballet I. Then it got hard. All that pointing your toes and holding your arms in positions more intense than hands on your hips really stressed me out apparently. I still loved dancing, just not dance class, so I stopped for a few years.
When I was eleven I started again. For one semester my cousin and I took classes as a tiny, fledgling studio which met at the teacher's house. She had a room set up like a dance studio so it was legit, but we were the only two students in our jazz class and then I took ballet as well by myself. That kindof fell apart, but then the following winter I started back at my original studio again. I had just turned twelve and that was the start of my longest continuous dancing stage.
I was able to catch up pretty quickly and went on pointe about a year after starting up again. By that time I was taking four classes a week, and when you added in rehearsals I was at the studio 4-5 days a week.
When I was fourteen I was Mary in the Secret Garden (very boring ballet to watch, very little plot and if you don't know the story you'd be lost, but it was fun to perform) and then that December I was Klara in the Nutcracker. Most of my memories from ages 12-15 are a blur of dancing. By the time I turned 16, I was taking tap, jazz, kickline, character, 4 flat classes and 1 pointe class a week in addition to rehearsals on weekends. On occasion I wanted to be a professional dancer, but my main plan was to be a dance instructor.
Right after my sixteenth birthday I decided to scale back a bit and take a break from the intensity. A couple months later I discovered that I needed back surgery. The possibility of needing surgery had come up before this, but I was very adamant that I could never have a spinal fusion done because I was a dancer, that was my life and my future, I couldn't imagine being held back in such a drastic way.
Looking back, I can see how God prepared me in some ways by lessening my desire to pursue dance as intensely as I had been. This is not to say that I was ok with the news at all. I was still very devastated. Even though I was taking a break from some classes, I still loved to dance and I planned to add more classes back in after a breather. I had a dentist appointment, and was told that I needed my wisdom teeth out on the same day as my orthopedist appointment. I just remember sitting in the car while we drove around to pick up my siblings from various activities that afternoon eating a pint of chocolate fudge brownie ice cream that my mom picked up for me. I still have all my wisdom teeth, and they're doing just fine, so thank you dentist for adding some unnecessary panic to that day.
At the time, I assumed any dance related career was out of the picture for me. I wasn't set on being a professional, but it was nice to dream about it still being a possibility sometimes and I didn't like having that permanently removed from my options. Going to school for dance in hopes of teaching was also a non-existent possibility at this point. Such an invasive surgery and drawn out recovery was a terrifying prospect for someone such as myself who is scared of needles and avoids doctors like the plague, but it was even worse knowing that it would not only be a difficult thing to go through, but it would forever take away something very dear to me.
Six months after surgery I was allowed to begin resuming some physical activities and I took an adult ballet class for a month or so. At that point it was just too much. It was too difficult to do things that I thought should be easy. I was frustrated by my sudden inability to keep up physically with my mental skill level.
A couple of my friends started a worship dance ministry in one of their living rooms when we were in highschool. It started out small with only a few students, but over a few years they had enough kids to have several classes and then they needed a larger facility. I think it was the second or third year of their existence when I substitute taught a class for a couple months my senior year of highschool. We met in my living room, and there were maybe 5-7 girls around 6-8 years old. Since I was just teaching this didn't really get me dancing again, and the style was much more lyrical than I was used to, however it stayed in the back of my mind through college that maybe someday I could teach somewhere like that since that was all I could really do now.
A year ago at their Christmas recital I finally talked to the director who was a friend of mine from high school and asked if I could take some classes. She told me right then that they would be looking for a couple new teachers in the fall, so I took classes for a semester and then was asked to be a teacher.
There are moments when I feel like I never stopped dancing, the muscle memory has come back so quickly and it feels so good to dance again. My limitations are still very frustrating at times. Technically, I've been told that I shouldn't lift my leg to the back at all, and it's upsetting knowing that I'll never be able to do some of my favorite steps again, but I have so much ability left to be thankful for. I may not be able to bend my back, but I can still walk, jump, twirl, move my arms and anything else I want. I thought I'd given up dancing forever and I am so blessed to have this opportunity to do it again. Sometimes I feel like God is the only audience who can even appreciate what I can offer now, and my back is an ever present and humbling reminder that He is the only audience that matters.
I will never be a great dancer no matter how hard I work, or how much I can improve my flexibility and strength. But I don't dance for professional critics. I dance for the Lord and to inspire my students to dance for Him. My hope is that I can inspire people with my story and use my background of technical training to help my students be the best dancers they can be. I've learned a lot about teaching over the last semester and I know I still have much to learn.
I know though that God has given me a gift and a passion for dancing, there is little in this world that gives me as much joy, and I will always be a dancer. I hope that in 50 years, if you asked me to give a list of words that define me, dancer would be one of them.
0 comments:
Post a Comment