Arabesque, Changement, Echappe, and a bunch of other words.

Yesterday was observation day at Banana's dance school. Twice a year, parents get to go in and watch our child's class/classes. Banana's Monday is classes. Plural. 3 plus hours*. There is a Jazz class with a really great, really funny teacher. She uses silly phrases and is very energetic, and I know Banana likes her a lot. In jazz class, they do stretches for about 30 minutes and then dance for about 30 minutes. The stretches, like the ones in ballet class, made me hurt. I wasn't actually stretching, mind you. Just the thought of the stretches made me hurt. I don't think people are really supposed to bend like that.

After jazz was ballet class. Ballet class lasts around 17 1/2 hours. I was in labor with Banana for less time than that class took. Kearsdad said he thinks we should employ Ballet-Class-Watching as a new form of terrorist interrogation. He says he is sure it would work even better than waterboarding. I honestly found it somewhat interesting and entertaining. It was nice to see how Banana is progressing. But it was incredibly long. I was ready for a nap by the time it was done.

The most interesting thing about ballet class was the language spoken in there. Kearsdad leaned over to me one time and whispered, "I have no idea what she (meaning Ballet Teacher) has said the entire time we've been in here." I'll admit, I was pretty lost myself. After all these years of ballet, I've become pretty well-versed in ballet language. Apparently, though, Banana has progressed well beyond my understanding. Kearsdad and I continue to be amazed that Banana can remember and perform a long string of foreign words given as direction, but can't remember to make her bed and brush her teeth in the morning. I comfort myself with the thought that we have spent many dollars and many hours on ballet, so I guess I'm glad she understands the language. Maybe if I learn to say "hang up your clothes" in French it will help.

*Banana's dance classes on Mondays consist of one hour of Jazz, one and a half hours of Ballet, and forty-five minutes of Pre-Pointe. Pre-Pointe is where the girls spend forty-five minutes counting to four while stretching and pointing their feet in various positions. Let it be known that Kearsdad and I did not stay to observe pre-pointe. I would have had to have Kearsdad committed for psychiatric treatment if we had done so.


This is Banana stretching in Jazz class. I don't think my body ever folded up like that.



Here she is in Ballet class performing one of those long strings of directions.