I started ballet at age 13. Twice a week, I would go to a small hall and take classes from an old woman from South Africa who taught me the names of all the steps and complimented me on my hot pink spectacle frames.
When my family moved to a small town, I knew even entertaining the thought of ballet classes was ludicrous. I tried to do did the NYCB workout.
that was fun.
6 months later we were on the move again. This time to the urban neighborhood of the western United States. I took classes for 2 years at a studio that boasted of 6 students who had earned a place in their high schools' dance company.
Not knowing any better, I stayed.
Then, due to scheduling conflicts, (I wish I could say 'artistic differences') I was forced to look for somewhere else. A couple of trial lessons and many tears later, I found my place.
It was very different.
First, it was led and taught by a man.
Second, our classes were two hours long and we were not allowed to leave the studio AT ALL during that time.
Third, everyone had class at the same time. There were no level sub-divisions, no seperate studios, no other teachers. nada. everyone at the same time.
Fourth, the method was Vaganova.
And that is where I am now! I've been there since September.
I stopped crying after every class probably about a month ago, so I must be getting bitter better!
It really isn't that bad, it just takes some getting used to.
xoxox
Vicky P.
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