Thinking back to kindergarten, it’s hard for most of us to remember all those kids names and faces, but we ALL remember “the biter,” “the paste eater,” “the nose picker,” “the mouth breather,” and, of course, every kindergarten class has “the smelly kid.” I was “the does not play well with others” kid. But really who could blame me! surrounded by the illiterate and unwashed. God forbide any of these kids got near me after lunch. I mean, using a spoon and a napkin is not quatum mechanics! I spent most of my one month in kindergarten in the corner by myself reading. There was this giant box that contained small readers, supposedly they progressed in difficulty and you could identify the levels by colors: green = illiterate, red = recognizes letters from numbers and other scrawl, yellow = less entertaining that reading a cereal box, blue = get a library card. I read through the whole bin and started bringing my own reading material to school as I was insanely bored.

I didn’t really like “those kids.” At that point I was still an only child, the following year would bring on the deluge of siblings but I was still singular at four and perfectly content with the arrangement. I’ve always been very attracted to being independent. I never needed nor wanted lots of friends. Too much socialization wore me out and more than a couple of friends at a time was more interaction than I could handle.

Certainly my “I am a rock, I am an island” mentality has colored my pasttimes as well. Despite playing in the orchestra, I was attracted to the violin because I believe it to be most precious when solo. (A single violin is the voice of God in each of us which mankind is allowed to speak and permitted to hear.) I ran cross-country and played tennis because even on a “team” these were things practiced alone. And when I began ballet, I very much appreciated that no one really talks in class except the teacher, we all have our own private space at the barre and in center. We don’t touch, we work independently, our source of information comes from a single other person.

And then…

Ballet teacher:  “Ladies, you need to become more aware of each other in center. On the stage, we do not stand in straight lines with equal space. You need to start becoming aware of your space in relation to other people space. I’ve told you at the barre, don’t pay attention to what other people are doing, you have your business to take care of. But in center, we are going to start working together because that is how ballet works. Unless you are the principle and everyone moves out of your way, you will need to know not only how to address the audience but how to address each other.”

Let me tell you, those were words I was not interested in hearing. But as we begin to do our center exercises more in moving groups and bunches, I began to think wouldn’t it be nice in life to have a teacher who could direct where everyone stands, show you how to carve out your own space while being aware of the people around you, to teach you how to present yourself so that you look good to onlookers, and to ensure that everyone had a place to work! As much as this was initially unsettling to me, I have to admit that the jump to learning how to perform has peaked my interest and through the interaction, I have made a couple of new ballet friends. Although stage performance is not on my list of life goals, I do believe that the experience is enhancing my dancing and making me stronger overall. And I appreciate my dancer teacher’s approach to teaching adults, he teaches people to become actual dancers. And on a final positive note, most thankfully, no one eats paste.

In the bright hot Los Angeles sunlight, my new ballet teacher and I stood talking in the parking lot of the studio. Dance teacher is still relatively new to teaching as he’s fairly recently retired from a professional career himself. He has begun to create different series’ of ballet classes for adult students. I sign up for pretty much all of them. So as we wave good-bye with “See you next class” attached,  I remind him that we will be seeing a lot of each other as one of the new classes starts this week.

Ballet Teacher: You’ll love it! You’ll be like, “this is all simple stuff” at this stage but we’re building, we’re layering.

Me: I don’t think “simple” will come to mind.

Ballet Teacher: I said simple, not easy. This is serious stuff. Ballet is serious, it’s hard, it’s deep. Simple, but not easy. I’m going to challenge you. You’ll love it.

And with that we parted. I got into my car and sat there for a few moments thinking about that… simple but not easy.  Yeah, rond de jamb is simple… really very simple but to make it flowing and beautiful, it’s not easy. Fondu, not hard, a simple concept really, just a bend of the knees. But it’s not easy to coordinate arms, legs, feet, head, hands and make it look all pretty and delicious.

I’m reminded of how ballet teacher likes to talk about his professional classes and how he strives to get us to work in a similar way. He tells us that the pros spend time working on plies, releves, and tendus constantly, that you never ever stop trying to perfect them, make them stronger, lighter, powerful, and more beautiful. The most simple and basic steps in ballet are not easy.

When I think about that I realize that I am looking for a simplicity when I work but that I should not expect it to ever become easy because I’ll be waiting a long long time. And when you are waiting and expecting something to occur that isn’t ever going to, it can be discouraging. I don’t want to wait for godot, I want to feel like progress is being made. I’m beginning to realize that hoping for things to get easier will stand in the way of recognizing that progress. Simple but not easy because this ballet business is serious stuff.