Holidailies: Appreciation (Part 2)

When we chose activities for the kids, we were (and are) limited by the community and availability. But, as little girls are the way they are, we had twirling ballerinas in our living rooms, in our kitchen and everywhere we went. "I love to dance, mom!" The girls would join their little hands and, shrieking with laughter and exhileration. They would spin themselves dizzy and fall in a giggling heap and then get up and do it again. It seemed natural, then, to find somewhere that they could harness that exuberance and dance to their little hearts content.

We searched for a dance studio and found one that seemed fresh and new. Both girls were excited by the majesty of the dance outfits, the ballet slippers bought especially for that class. We looked forward to the dance show--tiny twirling petite ballerinas spinning in tutus. Truly a picture of magical childhood memories.

The first days were rough and confused but sometimes it takes an adjustment period and we felt that we should encourage the girls to wait and see how things went, to keep trying, to have fun. I had my misgivings about everything related to the dance class but I kept it to myself, not wanting to taint the joy of dancing and feeling a bit out of my element since I had never taken dance, so how could I crititcize?

Slowly, it began to sink in--the crying and begging not to go; the struggle to cajole them into attending. There was no more dancing in the living room. They didnt twirl in the kitchen. They didnt play pretend ballerina" anywhere anymore. And worse, they started to say, "I hate dancing." Somehow, somewhere along the way, dance class made my girls feel sad and small.

Julia told me one day that she didn't love dancing and that she wanted to stop because dancing felt bad. I had my own reservations but I wasnt the one who was dancing so perhaps I just didnt understand what was happening. We asked Elena the same questions about her classes and she agreed to give it one more chance, just to make sure. But with Julia, the joy was gone and there were no more chances left in her to even try.

In the end we allowed her to quit dancing, felt badly enough that she wasnt enamopured by dancing, that at age 5, she had already set her heart against it. It made me weep that the thing that had given them so much joy was also giving her so much grief. What had gone so terribly wrong?

Time passed and Julia had some misgivings about quitting, especially when the year end dance show came and went, but even Elena had a hard time scrounging up her enthusiasm. She did it, complained about her tutu, and then, when it was done for the year, felt relieved and glad to be done. A three year old should not feel such things about something they love to do.

So it seemed that their dance class days were done--I didnt have the heart for pushing them or continue enrolling them in something that brought them such deep unhappiness. I hoped that one day they would rekindle their love of dance if I left it alone. As it turned out, it was rekindled, quite by accident.