A Small Success

Today in a group of about 20 children auditioning for a ballet school scholarship was one 2nd-grade boy who hunkered down in his seat in the theater while the other children in the group went up on stage for their audition.  I went over to him and asked why he wasn't auditioning, and he replied, "I don't want to do no ballet!" looking not belligerent or tough but, frankly, scared.  I asked if he wanted to just dance if he didn't have to do ballet, and he again shook his head no.  Seeing the children in his group were already starting to be handed their spots for the audition, but also seeing that he was reachable and his reluctance to go up there was because of some perceived stigma associated with boys dancing rather than because he truly didn't want to do it, I was determined to do everything I could to get that kid on the stage before his opportunity ran out.  So I asked if he played sports and watched football.  He looked at me curiously and said, "Yeah…".  I told him that football players frequently have to take ballet in order to increase their coordination and flexibility and make them better football players, and he cocked his head and the gears all turned in there and he said, "I didn't know that…".  He thought about it for a few moments, clearly weighing the pros and cons of getting up there… and then he said the sentence I hate hearing boys say:  "But I'm afraid I'm going to get made fun of if I do ballet."

It's not rare for me to see boys who won't audition, and I know this is usually why.  But normally they just giggle and snicker as a self-protection method -- they don't actually say those words and admit their fear.  As soon as he did, I knew I had to get through to him in the at-most-2-minutes I had before his group started their first exercise.  Dancing isn't for everyone, but I can't watch someone who wants to do something let go of an opportunity to do it because they're openly scared of being made fun of.  I told him that he was the only one here NOT auditioning and NOT dancing, so there wasn't anyone to make fun of him for dancing -- everyone else was dancing too. I told him it was just gym exercises, and no matter what happened today, if he didn't like it he wouldn't have to keep doing it.  And then he broke my heart again with "But I don't want to try it because I might fail. I might not be any good." 

I wanted to scream, "What the heck are adults in your life teaching you?!?!" and cry on his behalf, but instead I told him, "No one here in this group knows how to dance.  We're not looking for kids who can already dance.  We're not looking for perfection.  We don't want anyone to be perfect.  We're a school, so we wouldn't need to be here if you were perfect.  We just want you to try.  If you never try anything that you think you might fail at, you would never try anything.  And then where would you be?  So just try.  You don't want to go to our school anyway, so if you're no good, what's the harm in trying?  And I promise you no one here will make fun of you.  I promise.  So what do you say?  Please??"

He looked at me (doing my best "Pretty pretty please?" smile) for a few seconds in silence, and then a smile crept across his face, and he quietly but smilingly took off his shoes, and I said, "Wait, one more!" to the audition teacher and told the boy to hurry and gave him a high-five and he got his spot.  And then when he danced he smiled and looked like the happiest boy on the stage.  And when he was done he looked my way and waved and smiled, and I said, "See, that wasn't so bad, right?"  And he laughed. 

And no, that kid did not have a clue how to dance, and no, this story does not have the happily ever after of him being accepted (to the contrary, when I announced the kids for callbacks, I couldn't make eye contact with him because I could see him stand up before I'd finished reading the kids' names, and I knew he wasn't on the list I'd been handed), but I was struck with what a profound effect turning points can have on children at this age.  He could go home today and feel like he was right all along -- that there was no point to trying because he failed (though he did not fail just because he failed to be accepted) just like he thought he would, so it was stupid and next time he won't bother trying in the first place.  Or he could go home today and think he had a lot of fun today because he tried something scary, and not only was it fun but not a single person laughed at him.  And maybe next time he's scared of trying something new, he'll try it anyway.  And maybe next time he thinks he'll be laughed at, he'll realize that sometimes kids aren't as bad as you think they're going to be, and he'll do it anyway.  I don't know what his home life is like, and I hope it doesn't consist of adults who laugh at boys doing ballet and think it's not okay for kids to try something if there's a possibility they won't succeed the first time or be good at it, and I wish he could be part of our program where so many children with rough home lives have a positive force in their lives -- but I do know that for one day, he conquered a fear, tried something new, and succeeded.  And that made my day wonderful.