So Thursday night was awful. On top of one of my classes totally not knowing their choreography, I found out that I’m losing some upper level dancers for this next season. It’s so hard, and I should know better by now, than to pour so much of my heart into my teaching. You’d think that I’d never been through this before, but I look back at all the amazing talent that’s flowed through my fingers like sand on its way to becoming a doctor or a lawyer. When will I learn that people just do not love dance as much as I do, and that it isn’t a reflection on my teaching or my love and investment in them? I should know that the rest of the normal world does not practice their choreography every night, and they certainly don’t schedule their family vacations around dance rehearsals. But I continue to put myself in this weird emotional place when I see kids with promise – and I set myself up when I start believing that they might “get it”. It doesn’t help that my family DID make sacrifices and accommodations so that my brother, sister and I could pursue our interests. My dad worked endless hours and my mom worked extra jobs after the divorce so that I could still take my 17 dance classes a week, my brother could play violin all over the state of Illinois, and my sister could play everything from piano to string bass. I forget that my mom and dad were exceptionally good to us, and that it’s not always the norm to do those things.


Add to this the fact that my uncle Lee died last Tuesday by having his colon surgery completely fail, and that I was the person who heard the fatal car crash that happened a block away last week, and things are just coming up roses. Based on all of this, you can only imagine my glee when I find out that my grandpa is on oxygen 24-7 now, and that he may not make it until after the recital in May (when I’m going home to visit).


Were it not for coffee and chocolate, I would not be able to do anything but crawl into my bed and cry today.

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