Truth No. 2
My first ballet class of the century was kind of boring. I was going to dance around this heresy. But there, I said it. A few weeks ago, I took a ballet class for the first time in about 10 years (maybe 11? I lost count). I joined a room full of teens and adults of all shapes, sizes and abilities. In a 75 minute class, we spent a full hour at the barre. Though it's not a shirt-soaking activity, the barre work fatigued my hips and legs and provided plenty of awkward moments as my limbs and head flailed stiffly. Let's say that an hour at the barre makes me feel like a good girl who ate all of her spinach. Barre work is like learning multiplication tables. Like practicing scales. Like memorizing the periodic table. Like learning prepositions in Ms. Gorman's 7 th grade English class. Memorize. Practice, practice, practice. Mastery and memory precede application, expression and creativity. Those are earned, not given. During my first class, our teacher noted that ballet dem...