I started dancing at Dance Workshop thirty-five years ago, started teaching twenty years ago, and took ownership of the Randolph studio fifteen years ago. Through the years I have welcomed thousands of children as they timidly attended their first class, and helped them through their amazing journey toward their first steps onto that big, bright, scary but oh-so-special recital stage!
These moments are so incredible heart warming to think about. In fact I’m tearing up a bit just writing this. But as I think about “My Turn” I tear up A LOT.
I’m not referring to my first recital. Sure, that was quite an emotional day for me, but this time I’m talking about My Turn.
It’s My Turn to see my own little girl take that stage, with her tiny purple [pronounced "poy-pull"] tutu, and her little tan tap shoes that she has tried on countless times at home to jump around the kitchen, and her perfect little bun (dance teachers have quite a bit of “bun-doing” experience).
It’s My Turn to sit nervously in the auditorium wondering if my little girl is going to be out their jumping happily and twirling beautifully, or if she will freeze up nervously or run off stage crying (to the first time dance moms reading this – if it happens to you, trust me it’s very normal. Your timid little dancer will probably end up stealing the show with a solo number in a few years!)
It’s My Turn to buy someone else flowers and a little teddy bear commemorating her inaugural dance recital.
It’s My Turn to hear little not-quite-sentences about “my recital” every day from April Fools Day to July 4th.
It’s My Turn to convince her older brothers that they should come to the recital and sit quietly in the auditorium to support their sister, even if it means wearing a shirt with buttons on it for two hours.
It’s My Turn to watch my little girl watch the older dancers as she gazes up at them in amazement for the art form they have embraced, wondering when she will do those perfectly executed ballet moves with such elegant grace and impressive technique (not her words exactly but I swear that’s what she’s thinking!)
It’s My Turn to feel the way many of my customers (I hate that word, so let’s just go with “dance parents”) have felt when I helped their little girl through year one of dance, and I now know how special that really is.
It’s My Turn, and I LOVE IT!