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They showed up early for dance, as usual, took off their jackets, and put on their ballet shoes there in my office. Nadia, the more focused and dedicated of the two girls, picked up a dance catalog and began perusing it as she always did. I observed her as she studied each picture intently. It was almost like her eyes were glued to each page, but this was only one of the instances that displayed her passion for dance.
When the remaining members of class arrived, I casually instructed the girls to begin a warm up at the bar. Ten or so minutes later, I strolled into the studio from the office to observe how well they were applying their technique. The warm up is a crucial part of class and all effort shoule be put forth. As I had watched Nadia when she was previously in the office, I watched her again. Although she was the dancer learning, and I, the dance instructor, i admired her. I suppose it was because of her determination to do her absolute best, or her grace, or maybe even her pride. Whichever it was, my respect for her talent was greater than my admiration of the talent of any other of my students.
Following the ballet warm up, the six girls in the class stretched out and practiced the routine they had been presently involved in. While they did the routine, I noted each imperfection and pointed it out to them after they were finished. After running through the routine a number of times and fixing everything possible, I realized class was through, and it was time for the girls to go home.
The next night was similar, and so was each class after that. As the months passed and the girls executed their routines beautifully at competitions, I watched Nadia evolve into a young lady who danced exquisitely.
I'll always remember that one night Nadia told me that she wanted to be a ballerina when she grew up. Recalling that I too had that same dream as a girl made me feel warm inside. She told me that I was her inspiration. What she didn't know was that she was my inspiration as well.
A few more months passed and by then, a year had flown by. Finally, I knew Nadia was prepared to begin dancing pointe, a form of ballet using toe shoes. When she arrived at class that evening, I pulled her aside and explained that she was clearly ready for toe shoes. I had never in my life viewed so much joy and happiness on one girl's face as I did at that moment.
Soon enough, she was pirouetting, leaping, and flying in her new ballet slippers. She never forgot to bring them to class and always danced far beyone my expectations. The ballet slippers also looked lovely on her and the other instructors agreed that she belonged to dance. Nadia owned it, it was hers and no one, not even I could take that away from her. Her muscles started to strengthen, as well as her self-confidence. In spite of the fact that she advanced quite rapidly, Nadia never became egotistical or arrogant. Once I even asked her mother about her grades and she replied that she was maintaining a level of excellence. I was greatly impressed.
By the end of the year, I made the decision for Nadia to dance a solo on the last competition of dance season. That is if she wanted to and could handle the pressure. I knew I didn't even have to ask.
The night I told Nadia about her solo, she was overcome with with excitement. She thanked me and gave me a hug. As she walked away, I noticed a single tear rolling down her peach colored cheek. I only smiled and turned away.
One day, in my leisure time, I choreographed her solo routine and within the next week Nadia had almost learned her entire dance. The last class in which I completed teaching her the routine, I complimeted her on how outstanding she was doing, but indicated that still more work needed to be done before the competition. Then I looked the deepest I've ever looked inside her; in her eyes, down to her toes, and right through her soul. I saw that fire that said to practice. So, from that night, to the week before the competition, Nadia came to class many more hours than usual to perfect her routine.
As the night of the competition approached, I knew, without a doubt, she would be great. It was held in the auditorium of a high school in a nearby town. At the high school, after Nadia warmed up and stretched out, I sent her backstage. I then scurried into the auditorium and took my seat in the audience. Soon, she was on, and she took everyone's breath away. She was spectacular. In a few minutes, her routine was completed. Nadia curtsied as the audience applauded in awe.
After the curtain closed, I ran to the dressing room. Nadia gave me a look telling me how pleased she was with herself. She started to cry tears of joy and just as I went to comfort her, her family and friends rushed in from the audience. They embraced her and she was swept away with the compliments and comgratulations.
Later I thought about her performance. Things would now go back to normal, until competition season started again. Of all the times in my life, I realized that I had never seen such an amazing girl. This thought caused me to believe that Nadia's dream of becoming a prima ballerina might, afterall, come true.
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