Last Monday I took my granddaughters to their first ballet class.
Grace, at six, is a good child – well-behaved and eager to please. Kylie, 4 and 1/2, is none of those things.
As Grace and the others were stretching along with Miss Erica, Kylie was hanging from the barre by both hands.
When the others were walking around on tiptoe, Kylie was squashing her face against the full-length mirror, trying to see just how flat she could smash her nose.
As the others folded their ankles into the five positions, Kylie was hopping around the room like a bunny.
Finally, as the rest of the class practiced their pirouettes, Kylie tried break-dancing. On her back, with her legs in the air, spinning in circles.
A few moments later, the other kids had begun to ignore the teacher, and were attempting to emulate Kylie instead.
After class, I spoke with Miss Erica.
“She’s really not mature enough for this class, is she?”
Miss Erica, who is, after all, paid by the student, assured me Kylie had done “just fine.”
"I don’t think she has the attention span for this. Do you?”
And, just like with McCain at the crazy lady rally, for just a moment honesty won out over self interest for Miss Erica.
“There’s a lot of discipline in ballet,” she admitted. “She might do better in a different class.”
After talking it over with Grace and Kylie’s mothers, we agreed a change was in order.
Next week they start hip-hop.