my 8 yr old had a final performance for her modern dance class the other night. i was really psyched to go, since i love modern dance, and i know she has a great connection with this teacher; one of few adults that really "get" her, in all her glorious intensity.
so when she begged my 5 yr old not to come because she was embarrassed, i got an uncomfortable, pit-of-my-stomach familiar feeling. because this self-consciousness is so me, such a ginormously gaping cavern of anxious discomfort whenever i imagine performance of any sort, it was really hard to figure out where to put this feeling of hers in my head.
in a basic way, i was fine to respect her wish and be the only family member to attend. but it made me wonder: is it silly to have her in a dance class when she hates performing, being watched? is there any point? what am i building towards?
when i was eleven, my parents put my sister and me into an arts camp. it was pretty serious stuff, as we had to choose a major (3 hours) and a minor (2 hours). i chose ceramics as my major, pretty randomly, and ballet as my minor, also fairly randomly.
not entirely randomly: i had harbored fantasies of being a ballerina, even begging my mom to buy me leg warmers (not sure why i figured that was the one necessary key to success) and standing in my bathroom for hours over various slow summer days, pointing my toes and stretching in front of the mirror, in a random and pretty undisciplined way. but that was as far as it had ever gotten. my parents were hard-working immigrants that didn't really have the resources (i'm kind of guessing here) to put in to extracurricular activities, or camps, which is what made this summer at the arts camp stand out so much.
the few memories i have about that summer involve either being covered in clay and creating atrociously ugly bowls and deformed vases, or being asked to demonstrate ballet positions and movements for the class every day. apparently i was ridiculously flexible and had some sort of untapped aptitude for the stuff. i remember very little else except that on the final day, the teacher told my parents that i needed to continue doing this.
we moved at the end of that summer. i never took another dance class again, and i'm not sure to this day if that was a financial or practical decision. i guess on some level i kind of resent that, adding it to my list of what-ifs in life, although i know that that is a pointless line of thought. its too much of a played out sob story: the could've-been-washed-up-mother-figure, trying to live her dreams through her daughter. honestly thats not where i am in my head with this.
fast forward to my daughter's dance performance. the girls dance with feeling, expression, joy. they are light and free and the teacher, a lesbian buddhist mother of two who's been teaching and dancing for thirty years, revels in their energy. when they act up or get out of hand, she channels their energy instead of working against it. except for a few flashes of discomfort early on, my daughter is right in there, throwing herself wholeheartedly into the movements, often standing out with her extreme full body participation.
i stay after class to chat with the teacher. she tells me about her daughter who is 19 and currently obsessed with judaism. she reflects that the jewish children she sees all seem so into their religion, and so non-materialistic. i find this a little funny and not terribly true across the board; i feel like judaism as a cultural phenomenon is a pretty mixed bag, like any diverse movement. don't get me wrong, i love it, but i definitely don't have any blinders on.
my daughter asks her for her email address, "so that we can stay pals." the teacher responds by saying, "we'll always be pals. i've loved you since i first met you two years ago - i know there is something deep and special in you." my daughter smiled and took the compliment perfectly in stride.
and thereby answered my question: of course it is worth doing, performance anxiety or not. all the world's a stage, and we are always playing, in every single interaction we have with one another: its all about the love and light and joy, and yes, about the twists and bends and wild whirling dervish swirls as well.
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