As you can see this is a dancer. I am a dancer. I have been lacking since I pulled my hamstring 2 weeks ago. The text below is an essay/personal narrative i wrote for english:
When I call myself a dancer you would think three main things. First, that I have been dancing for at least ten years. Second I take a million different classes. Third, I am the most flexible person alive and can do splits in mid air. None of this is true. I started dancing at the beginning of eighth grade. I didn’t go to learn to dance or to get more exercise. I wanted to be with my best friends who all danced. At first I assumed that it would be easy to fit in with girls around my age, but was I horribly mistaken.
The truth is I had been in that studio before; I took a ballet class there in second grade. I quit after my first year because I hated it. As I walked into that studio again it felt like a flashback, especially since some little girls were leaving. As their tiny tutus left to meet up with their parents I walked in. The dance room was bright with blue tile floors and four rooms. I learned that there is a bathroom, storage room, waiting room, and office. When I first entered it looked barren, but seconds later I saw more girls coming in for the beginning of class.
Many of the people that came in I didn’t recognize because there were so many thoughts were going through my head. Were they from different schools, towns, or even home schooled? I was focused on finding someone I actually knew. Soon enough my friends came in. While two of them were changing, my friend Emily showed me around. She had been at the studio for eleven years and knew basically everything about it. She showed me what to do and introduced me to some of her, “dance friends.”
First was a sixth grader with blonde hair. Her name was Emily as well. This Emily was short and really skinny. We had just begun talking when another girl came up to me. She was in eighth grade but went to a private school. This girl was wearing a studio t-shirt and had on way too much makeup on. After that I talked to a few people I had recognized from our grade. Eventually a young woman came in. Emily told me that she was our student teacher who did stretches and warm-ups with us. The class wasn’t easy because I had no clue what in the world I was doing. I needed help with all the exercises and felt stupid. By the middle of the class, I realized that dancing was not going to be something easy to learn.
Surprisingly I lasted all year, from September to June. At the recital I was so proud of myself for beating the odds and accomplishing something I thought could never be achieved. Now this year, as I start a new year at the studio, I feel more confident, more fit, and a lot more like a dancer. This was one tough situation I faced because, as everyone knows, it’s not easy to fit in.
If you read all that, thanks and tell me if something like this has ever happened to you.
