I stared blankly at the long list of names, set in alphabetical order–last name first of course. Each name was paired with a cast number, and a part. My name sat along side the words, “Chinese”, cast B. A part I had danced in the previous Nutcracker, but I guess I shouldn’t have expected anything better.
The thing that bothered me so much was the fact that a girl in my level in class, and no better than me, got the amazing part of a “Party Girl” which meant she got to spend thirty minutes on point, while I got a lousy (and yes every previous “Chinese” knows the time they have) fifty-nine seconds on stage doing the same stupid thing over, and over. It’s not that I was ungrateful, I just hate the favoring and especially the “dumbing-down” my teachers continued to do to my fellow students and I. Here I had been dancing for six years, going to class four times a week, and I really didn’t have much to show for it. Yes, I could’ve pushed myself more, there’s no question in that, but when you’re restricted to doing only a certain thing, and never being allowed to take a risk, it makes you lazy and frustrated.

The winter I had again been pushed to the lame part, which was made lamer, of a “Chinese”, and such a disgusting display of favoring went on, the academy lost eleven students in the course of one month.
I was one of them.
I quit so I could pursue other things I enjoyed, so I could try new things, and mostly, because I couldn’t stand taking part in something I disagreed with so much. It has been three years since I left the academy, but I still take the community classes the hold for people who just want to dance for the fun of it. I enjoy these classes because the really push you, even if you’re not that good. There’s no dumbing-down so far, and I think it’s because of two things. 1. The teachers, and 2. They want you to have fun, and work hard at the same time. They don’t know if you’ll come back to the class, so they push you so you’ll get as much out of it as possible. They really needed that in the “elite academy”.

Sometimes I run into my old teachers in the hall, and they smile and say “hi”. They also look me up and down, ask if I’ve failed yet, (not in those words exactly) and then they’re on their way. I laugh, thinking about it, how silly it all seems to me.

I used to dream of becoming a professional Ballerina so badly. There was nothing I wanted more. Now, I’m glad I’m not. I wouldn’t mind dancing professionally, but I think it would be really neat if dance became about dancing again.