Mumbling Madly

I’m only posting another stuffed animal picture because this one has a good story attached: Bettina has been a staple of the store since I joined its forces two and half years ago. There’s something about her froggy, long, legs combined with the ridiculous tutu action that enchants small boys….yes, I said boys. They LOVE “Bettina.” Usually when some poor little chap is dragged into the store with his Mom and sister I’ll hand him a frog. It really works…by distracting the young man, I’m preserving the sanity of the store. A bored little boy is hell in a handbasket.
The store eventually ordered pink Bettinas…but the reaction was mixed. Typically we see kids immediately identify the green and pink frogs as different genders. You guessed it: Green Bettina=Boy and Pink Bettina=Girl. So even though the green frog is wearing a tutu, he’s still the boy in the duo.

Dead to the world due to overperformances…four in three days…that’s too many shows. Thankfully, my friend Brandon sent me a link to this funny clip.
Check it out, it’s well worth it.

“For those of you who love unicorns, Russ presents this purple unicorn with a lilac scented innerbag to you. Her name is Charisma; and she is super special, because she smells like jasmine! Charisma has a beautiful purple coat, blue eyes, pink inner ears, a white horn, and a white fuzzy tail, mane, and hooves.

Charisma likes children, especially little girls. And, though most unicorns are hard to capture, Charisma is not difficult to own at all. In fact, she would be the happiest unicorn ever if she belonged to a loving, imaginative child. Do you know a little girl who might like to own a gentle unicorn?”

All of that sexist crap aside, this unicorn is more popular than Elvis at our dance store. Originally we gagged at the idea of a unicorn that stinks of lilac, but let me tell you, they are all the RAGE with the toddler market. We’ve seen kids throw full on tantrums over these unicorns. I’ve had parents buy hundreds of dollars worth of ballet clothing and the kid still insists on the unicorn over a new leotard. Who knew?

Another rendering of myself drawn by one of my young students. This one is especially poinant because of my large sausage-like hair. I guess my hair is getting longer than I thought. And my lips are fantastic in this picture!

Yes, this is me in the notorious play that I dare not speak its name. I’m actually behind the Delphic Oracle, but I wanted to at least give everyone a visual taste of the show.

Yesterday, a parent gave this picture to me of our last performance. In the photo, I am obviously thrilled because the recital is finally over with only a few minor hitches. Liz’s Mom also brought me flowers, which always feels good. Note to parents: Teachers like gifts.

The following is something I wrote two and half years ago when I first started teaching 3-5 year olds. It was a rough transition after years of teaching teenagers. At the time, I truly believed this was my worst day of teaching dance ever.
My threes, fours, and fives were outside the classroom, it was a cloudy Tuesday night, I said in a stern teacher voice, “Has everyone gone to the bathroom?” This is the cue, the obvious, the silent begging on my part: Please go to the bathroom now so you don’t start a chain-event where every little girl has to go to the bathroom at the same time. Wide-eyed, every girl, all seven of them, nodded, “Yes!” And so we enter the classroom, an unfamiliar girl trails in behind them in a green sweatsuit. She’s new…her mother looks about my age, she even looks a little like me, “This is Brianna’s first class, should I–do I stay out here?” It is so hard for the parents, I know, but I have to make them sit outside. “Yes, if she needs you we’ll call you in,” I say, cheerfully.
It is the beginning of a disaster. Brianna is the eigth student, one too many in a class already overflowing. Immediately she begins to nervously talk, while we do our foot flexes. She is a typical three-year-old in the sense that I can’t understand anything she is saying. This throws off some of the more serious, older girls, who rarely talk, especially during an exercise. This also encourages the younger girls, two very young three-year-olds in particular, to start talking as well. Soon I am stopping the exercise to explain focus and concentration, how we need to do our foot flexes together. Disaster is brewing, now they all want to talk, and are interrupting each other to tell me about their new shoes, their day, their ballet skirt.
Anna, my most aggressive student, starts ordering everyone around, attempting to teach the class for me. I’ve watched this girl go back and forth, on one hand she wants to please me, but on the other hand she desperately wants to prove that she knows how to be in charge. Losing Anna means losing her favor, which means one more thing to add to a disaster already brewing. Now Anna is being mean, vindictive, ordering the other little girls to sit next to her, hold still ,put their feet out straight. While I try to gently calm Anna down, I realize I am starting to have to discipline. But no one is listening to me, they don’t want to dance together and I can’t seem to get them to be quiet.
We move to the floor, they stand on their assigned spots. Brianna picks a spot but doesn’t understand the significance of it, she starts to crawl around the floor. She refuses to stand in first position, which causes a chain reaction. Madilyn starts doing spins, Anna sits down and sticks her thumb in her mouth, Jordan starts asking all sorts of questions, soon everyone is asking questions. I have to stop the exercise and explain that we can’t talk during class, that questions are reserved for important occasions, like going to the bathroom. This is a mistake. The moment I mention the bathroom, several hands shoot up, and those that forget to raise their hands belt out: “I have to go to the bathroom!” So we begin the slow process of one by one, each girl going to the bathroom. Disaster has struck.
At this point, I try to get them to hold hands in a circle. But there are mini-wars beginning, one girl doesn’t want to hold Anna’s hand, something that causes major offense. Madilyn picked her nose and now nobody wants to hold her hand. Brianna, the new girl, doesn’t understand what’s going on so she starts jumping up and down. Than Emma emerges from going to the bathroom crying. Now the class has to stop entirely as I go over and give Emma a hug. She is sobbing and tells me she wants to sit down. Jordon decides to sit with her. We try to resume the circle but the girls are too distracted to march. Madilyn decides she should sit out too, something I try to dispute. She ignores me. The questions start up again and yet another girl runs out to the bathroom.
I try to get them to slide across the room in a diagonal line. Just forming a straight line is a hassle, nobody wants to stand up, all of a sudden everyone wants to sit down, or lie down on the floor. One by one I get them to slide across the room. Isamaya falls down and starts to cry; I talk her out of her “injury” and send her across the floor again. The girls who were sitting on the sidelines join in, which is good but they’re unfocused and restless from sitting down and that bad energy is brought to the rest of the kids. The new girl starts telling me something and I can’t understand her, I don’t understand a word she is saying. I want to scream.
Suddenly Jordon is crying, someone else needs to go to the bathroom, and I want to tell one of them to shut-up and stop asking so many questions. They are telling me “no” which I am unused to. At this point I am no help either because I keep calling them by the wrong names, in my struggle every little blond girl looks the same. Finally we get into a circle and I try to talk to them seriously…which is hard considering Jordon has now refused to participate and is back on the sidelines. Kasumi has wiggled away from the group and is now standing on one of the chairs. The girls express mild interest in talking. They miss their Mom, they want to leave, they’re sad. I realize in a flood of rationalization what went wrong: Somewhere along the line, be it the crying, my stern “teacher voice,” or the cloudy weather, these girls felt threatened and unsafe in my class. We end the class with curtseys, something they usually love, but Anna, who has been rejuvenated starts yelling at Emma about how she’s curtseying “all wrong.” I give as many hugs as possible and let them go. They stagger outside to their parents and I am mortified. I am a terrible a teacher, I can’t face the parents, I escape to the bathroom.

Recent reading binge:

Child Bride : The Untold Story of Priscilla Beaulieu Presley
The Da Vinci Code
The Idiots Guide To Healing Food
Wobegon Boy
Take the Cannoli : Stories From the New World

After a quick trip to the public library I’ve got quite a little bundle of books to go thru. You know how it is: The weather is getting cold, evenings are becoming darker, and there’s nothing like a good book. As a kid I used to thrive off the classics: Black Beauty, Little Women, etc. Than, much to my English Phd. Holding Parent’s Dismay, I became hooked on the nortorious Babysitter’s Club books. For my Father, especially, this was a decline in personal reading taste.
The healing food guide is nothing new that I don’t know…perhaps after taking the longevity test I’ve become even more passionate about researching healthy food. (My expected longevity? 94. Josh’s longevity? 69…the first time he took the test, 72 the second time). I learned that once again, sugar is my acheilles heel, (and sausage, sometimes). The longevity test results lectured me on my sweet tooth, admonishing my poor will power and declaring my inevitable weight gain. Dammit, I KNOW, but can’t one exercise constantly, eat whole fruits and vegetables, avoid soda and excessive alcohal, and still manage to sneak in a daily candy bar? Absolutly not…
I haven’t been able to get into Wobegon Boy the way I had hoped…I love Garrison Keillor’s lesser known Radio Days, but I feel like his humour is a touch too sophisticated for me (ok, it took me forever to try and spell “sophisticated” just now).
Haven’t even cracked the nortorious Davinci Code…my local library doesn’t even carry it (gasp) I borrowed it from Josh’s sister.
Take the Cannolli is from one of my favorite people on This American Life, we’ll see how she handles herself in the printed word.
Admittedly, the book I can’t put down is the Priscilla Presley biography…I know, it’s terrible, junky, reading. And I admit: I skipped ahead and looked for the naughty parts, (something I’ve done with books since my youth).
It’s overcast and cold here in Fort Collins. Josh has officially begun sending resumes off to the NW and San Francisco. Here’s hoping!