Maintaining my impartial perspective
In one capacity or another I have been involved in the local ballet school scene for more years than I care to remember. Probably the only capacities in which I haven't been involved have been as a student or a teacher, although I did marry a ballet teacher.
Over the years I have seen many students come and go. Some clearly have a lot of talent, some clearly do it purely for enjoyment, and of course the majority fall into the middle of the extremes. It seems that every parent thinks their child will be the next ballet superstar, and I don't envy the teacher who has to let them down gently.
Occasionally though one newcomer will shine, and it makes all the teachers' hard work worthwhile.
Not surprisingly, competitions bring out the best and worst in the students, and more disturbingly, in their parents. The "Ballet Mother" becomes the "Eisteddfod Mother", a truly fearsome beast. Then there are the "Eisteddfod Fathers", who often don't want to be there, and don't understand what is happening. These fish out of water have a tendency to resort to aggression to hide their insecurities, making life hell for those of us working front-of-house. Fortunately I have only ever had one person threaten to beat me up, but I managed to persuade him that trying to do so would not be a great idea.
Don't get me wrong, some ballet parents are wonderful - helpful, friendly, and a pleasure to spend time with. I look forward to catching up with them each time there is a competition. It's just a shame that they are in such a minority.
Well, last Saturday I became an Eisteddfod Father. My elder daughter made her debut in a competition at the Canberra Theatre. She is not yet four years old, so it wasn't a big dance number. She was on stage with four older students, and her role was to be the cute little one.
Purely objectively, it is patently clear to me that there has never been a student who has made such a stunning debut. The audience loved her, and she showed the sort of brilliance which will undoubtedly take her right to the top, if she decides that is the way to go. There surely couldn't be anyone who witnessed the performance who could think otherwise. If there are, they obviously know nothing about dance and are clearly brain-dead morons.
The other thing that always confused me was the parents who would end up in tears of joy and pride when their little darlings performed. Always seemed like such an overreaction to me. Now I'll admit last Saturday I did need a couple of tissues after my daughter's debut, but I'm sure that was just a reaction from the cold, windy Winter's day. Or a touch of hayfever. Or the last bit of that head cold I have been fighting off. Yeah, that's it. It was the head cold ...
My little star has begun to shine.
Impartial perspective is a wonderful thing.
Over the years I have seen many students come and go. Some clearly have a lot of talent, some clearly do it purely for enjoyment, and of course the majority fall into the middle of the extremes. It seems that every parent thinks their child will be the next ballet superstar, and I don't envy the teacher who has to let them down gently.
Occasionally though one newcomer will shine, and it makes all the teachers' hard work worthwhile.
Not surprisingly, competitions bring out the best and worst in the students, and more disturbingly, in their parents. The "Ballet Mother" becomes the "Eisteddfod Mother", a truly fearsome beast. Then there are the "Eisteddfod Fathers", who often don't want to be there, and don't understand what is happening. These fish out of water have a tendency to resort to aggression to hide their insecurities, making life hell for those of us working front-of-house. Fortunately I have only ever had one person threaten to beat me up, but I managed to persuade him that trying to do so would not be a great idea.
Don't get me wrong, some ballet parents are wonderful - helpful, friendly, and a pleasure to spend time with. I look forward to catching up with them each time there is a competition. It's just a shame that they are in such a minority.
Well, last Saturday I became an Eisteddfod Father. My elder daughter made her debut in a competition at the Canberra Theatre. She is not yet four years old, so it wasn't a big dance number. She was on stage with four older students, and her role was to be the cute little one.
Purely objectively, it is patently clear to me that there has never been a student who has made such a stunning debut. The audience loved her, and she showed the sort of brilliance which will undoubtedly take her right to the top, if she decides that is the way to go. There surely couldn't be anyone who witnessed the performance who could think otherwise. If there are, they obviously know nothing about dance and are clearly brain-dead morons.
The other thing that always confused me was the parents who would end up in tears of joy and pride when their little darlings performed. Always seemed like such an overreaction to me. Now I'll admit last Saturday I did need a couple of tissues after my daughter's debut, but I'm sure that was just a reaction from the cold, windy Winter's day. Or a touch of hayfever. Or the last bit of that head cold I have been fighting off. Yeah, that's it. It was the head cold ...
My little star has begun to shine.
Impartial perspective is a wonderful thing.
posted by Alan at 10:37 PM
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