Awesome Things #3-6

How many days since I’ve posted my first two awesome things? I’m not sure, but here it is, 11:30pm, and I’m ready to list more awesome things.

3. Going to bed before morning: The time is 11:30pm, and I plan to be in bed within the hour!

4. Leftovers: I ate (that should be read as “inhaled”) some wonderful–no, awesome–leftovers from yesterday’s trip to Tokyo Japanese Steak House. This means: no cooking, minimal cleaning, yummy food. All these things are especially good when one does not leave the dance studio until 9:52pm.

5. A full barre: I have twice the number of Primary 4 dancers this year. I think I may even need to get my first demonstrator for this class. All these chatty little girls are wonderful–I mean awesome, talented, and take up the full length of the ballet barre!

6. Vladimir: Last year, my white-knuckled Intermediate 3 dancers grasped onto the barre too tightly one day, provoking me into lecture them about pas de deux courtesies and how to treat the ballet barre as a partner.  Since then, we have taken to calling the barre in my studio “Vladimir.”  I think it is quite the fitting name for him.  I enjoy personifying a wooden pole.

In other news, I must confess that I have not yet checked to see what other awesome things are being listed on the 1,000 Awesome Things blog. Perhaps my emo tendencies are once again over-powering me. Perhaps I would be more likely to read the aforementioned blog if it were listed on my blog roll. Perhaps the fact that I started a new dance company, planned my parents’ anniversary dinner, and start teaching at a new school this week have prevented me from indulging in that twice-aforementioned blog.

I also just read fmylife… though I don’t “f” my life 🙂

1,000 Awesome Things

When I’m really upset over something–really upset, not just pouting– I can’t sleep.  Ever since my friend (who is 40 years my senior) was diagnosed with ovarian cancer two weeks ago, I’ve had a lot of problems falling asleep.  This has led to my getting my days and nights confused, and I’m basically an insomniac now.

Last Christmas, my husband’s best friend stayed with us and got me hooked on http://www.fmylife.com: it caters to my morbid curiosity, I guess.  But… it’s not at all fulfilling, and it definitely doesn’t help me to think about “whatever things are lovely…true…pure” (Phil 4:8).

Tonight [really it’s morning], I’ve found a host of more positive blogs.  “1,000 Awesome Things” is one of those blogs (www.1000awesomethings.com).  If you visit the blog, check out my favorites (they’re only in the top 400s now):  #473, #467, #462, #455, #456 and #451.
So… I have become inspired.  Inspired to start rebelling against my husband’s calling me “emo” and against my hatred of all things rosy and glass-half-full.

Could I think of 1,000 awesome things?  I don’t know.  I don’t think so…. but I can try.  I could even have repeats and no one would know but me 🙂

Will I post one awesome thing a day? No.  That’d take, like, three years (remember, I’m an English teacher.  I can’t do math!).  Starting now, at 4:05am, I will try to post a few things which I feel are awesome (in no particular order).

[It is now 4:20, and I have erased my list. It was too…. obvious? big? It wasn’t good]

1. There is one full glass of Dr. Pepper in the fridge.
2. Not only was that item true, it was more than “glass-half-full.”

Awesome.

April 11, 1993

I was six years old,
miles and years away from you,
the day you were born,
but I, dressed in my Easter best,
smiled.

Peanut Butter Sandwiches

Francis just didn’t get it. Spank, drop, step. “Three steps!” I wanted to scream. “How can you *not* get this?” For three months, she just didn’t get it. This eighteen-year-old senior could solve Trig problems, but she couldn’t will her body to repeat three dance steps.

The steps kept evolving. I tried every metaphor and trick I could muster. These aren’t drawbacks. This is a passe that you fall out of. These aren’t drawbacks. This is walking backwards. These aren’t drawbacks. This is scooping peanut butter, closing the lid, putting away the jar. No matter the metaphor, no matter the number of demonstrations, no matter the number of repetitions: Francis would make three steps that never equaled spank, drop, step.

In Modern, the problem wasn’t three steps. The problem was five seconds. Miss Sarah said those five seconds took thirty minutes–thirty unsuccessful minutes.

We stood and vented and worried and compared stories as Terri listened. Terri doesn’t know a plie from a brise’. Terri has never worn ballet shoes, tap shoes, or tights. Terri has never danced across the studio. I don’t know that Terri’s ever walked the entire length of the studio. There are tens of steps on the marley floor where Terri’s feet have never walked. Terri is the reason Francis is making peanut butter sandwiches in tap class.

Today, Francis did not walk into my studio.  She danced into my studio.  Five steps.  She kept repeating five, not-quite-perfect Modern steps.  I could not say for sure, but perhaps Miss Sarah’s five seconds were composed of the five steps I saw Francis dancing.

Thirty minutes later, we reached drawback practice.  Every other student quickly beat out the rhythm of those three steps.  Francis stood next to the ballet barre.  Though everyone else could both complete the steps and balance without aid, she held the barre with her left hand, rose onto the balls of her feet, and lifted her right foot off the floor.  Spank.  Her right foot brushed back against the floor toward her left ankle.  Drop.  Her left heel dropped to the marley floor.  Step.  Her right foot, having been balanced in the air for the duration of one tap step, stepped decidedly to the floor.

I completely erupted into an applause.  After three months of working, Francis completed a drawback on the first try.

But she didn’t stop there.

Every three steps composed a drawback.   Every three steps across a thirty foot studio.  Francis must have completed fifteen drawbacks!

Within five minutes, my three-months-behind student had not only conquered her nemesis-of-a-step, but she was completing a more complicated form of the step.  Every other student had already learned Cincinnaties.  Not three steps, but five: I likened Cincinnaties to making a peanut butter sandwich.  Scoop the peanut butter; close the lid; spread the peanut butter; close the sandwich; take it to the table.

Today, three months of work and years of my on training were left wanting in the face of one woman’s single prayer, and Francis is making peanut butter sandwiches in tap class!