My kid is a dance school drop out. As soon as I could sign her up — practically in utero given how early these classes start — there was my daughter ready to feel the rhythm and the groove. We could bond (why hello mommy-guilt). She could learn how to follow directions. It would be great.
So why did we drop out? Was it our dread of the 8 People You Meet at Your Child’s School Performance (hey, hey look at me, I am featured on NickMom – say what!)? So here is what happened.
On the first day of dance class, all signs pointed to leaving. The crowded parking lot with monster sized SUVs in crooked positions. The confusing building. The screaming toddler. Yet, like any good horror movie, ACat and I continued on our adventure because turning around at that point would have been the common sense thing to do.
As we entered the dance room, we were greeted with a sea of pint sized pink tutus, toddler leotards, and mini ballet shoes.
And there was my daughter with her signature messy hair and mismatched socks (who has time to pair socks).
Oh great, I could tell already this kind of dance class was not for us.
We made the most of the silly songs. ACat laughed. And I got a great workout carrying her during certain dance songs.
The next couple of weeks were great. I even pulled out the tutu someone gave us as a gag gift at my baby shower. Of course worn with an edgy Brooklyn t-shirt. We were feeling the rhythm and the groove. That is until week 4 of dance class.
There were certain things in dance class I had to roll with, like:
- Princess Dancing — Sure, I knew the princess world was headed our way soon, but why assume that a room full of girls did want to run around like superheros. Can’t we do both?
- Ants Go Marching — Getting into the annoying original camp version when I so wanted to rock to the Dave Matthews Band rendition (still one of the best songs ever — let’s take a minute to celebrate DMB).
- Giving Up Weekend Mornings — Even though we are usually up by 6:30 on the weekends, there is something nice about not rushing around after a full week of work.
And then we walked into week 4 of dance and into the middle of preparation for a dance recital. Wait What! Hold the phone.
My daughter was two and there was the teacher armed with a measuring tape ready to size up my toddler for I don’t even want to know what costume. I doubt a funky t-shirt was part of the plan.
I get it. Little kids learning how to dance and in fun costumes are the thing families love. But 2-year-olds? It seemed too young for setting the message of “performing”. So was I expected in the middle of all things toddlerdom to practice dance moves for a recital at home? Because that will go over real well during the post work witching hour. Plus this was a “mommy and me” dance class. Did that mean I had to jump on stage too and dance? That would not be a pretty picture, as I rock my mom dance. People would poke their eyes out at that image and demand their dance school tuition back.
Again, I bit my lip and rolled with it. But then every class after that the stinking recital came up. Why couldn’t the kids just dance and have fun, while learning the basics of following directions.
So on that note, we backed out of the second semester of dance class. There will be plenty of time in the future for performing. And in all honesty, our little dance parties in our kitchen at home are so much more fun and educational. Plus my coffee and Keurig machine is within arms reach.