“Costumes?”
“Check.”
“Hairpins?”
“Check.”
“Pointe shoes?”
“Check.”
“Alright, I think that’s everything,” I told my mom as she neatly placed each item in the bag. “I can’t believe the performance is on Saturday!”
“These ten weeks of preparation sure did go by quickly,” my mom agreed.
“Well, I’d better go get ready for dance practice tonight,” I said as I rushed off to my room.
Our ballet class that Tuesday night was spent mostly rehearsing the dances that we would perform that weekend in our annual performance of The Nutcracker. We practiced our group dances, Snowflakes and Waltz of the Flowers. We rehearsed our solos countless times, mine being the Spanish Dance that I had a special pair of black pointe shoes for. Then it came time to practice our Marzipan trio. It started off perfectly fine, the arabesques and pirouettes all going as planned. We spun in circles, glided softly on pointe, and leaped across the room. The most difficult parts of the dance were already over. We came to the part of the dance where the three of us would have to do kicks on pointe in sets of three. I did one set, two sets, and then CRASH! The next thing I knew, I was on the floor clutching at my left arm. Pain seared through it like I had never experienced before. When I tried to move it, it felt as if a lightning bolt was jolting through my arm. At that moment, I knew that I would not be dancing in the performance.
The remainder of that night was spent in the emergency room, with hours upon hours of waiting for results. I held my phone in my good hand, the buzzing of new text messages from my ballet class never stopping. It took until 11:30 that night before my suspicion had been confirmed—I wouldn’t be able to dance. Despite this, I still went to the performance like normal to support and assist my friends. Not even a second after I walked in the auditorium doors, I was rushed with urgent requests:
“Kaitlyn, can you put this over there?”
“Kaitlyn, can you hook my costume for me?”
“Kaitlyn, have you seen my hairbrush?”
Overall, it was a crazy but exciting day. Of course, I wish I could have been dancing. As I watched each of the dances that I had been practicing for the last ten weeks being performed on stage, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of disappointment. I watched as one of my friends performed my solo, and tears welled up in my eyes. As sad as I was for myself, I was also happy that she was able to learn my part on such short notice.
It was difficult to have practiced for that performance for such a long time, and then have everything vanish in a matter of seconds, but this experience taught me an important lesson. Theater is not just about what happens on the stage; there is much more involved than what the audience sees. It’s about hard work and practice in advance. It’s about everything that goes on backstage, from the costume changes to the backdrops and lighting. It’s about the dedication of everyone working together to make the show a success. Most importantly, it’s about the support given by friends both on and off the stage.
Dance Disaster
By Kaitlyn W.
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