I have absolutely no idea what to write about. The english language? Something that happened to me recently, maybe? Everyone around me is typing away, certainly not seeming to be encountering the same problem as me. I guess I’ll do both of them, the first ideas that came off the top of my head.
The english language is weird. People tell me all the time that english must be one of the hardest languages to learn. The exceptions and rules are always different that what one would expect. As for me, having spoken english all my life, it is the other way around. The other languages, such as French, are the difficult ones to learn. Although, it probably helps having an english major as a mother too. You are never allowed to make mistakes on your grammar or spelling or anything. If I happen to miss a comma, it is almost like I’ve brought shame upon the family name. At least my college papers will be grammatically correct.
Something that happened to me recently. Hmmm….ok. The most recent, most exciting thing that happened to me is that I went to BalletMet in Columbus, Ohio for their ballet summer intensive camp. There are so many things that I could write down about this place, I don’t know where to start. Daily schedule. In the early morning hours, before the sun had even blessed the earth with her bright summer rays, we had to wake up. We all got ready and went to breakfast like a crowd of zombies and slowly began to get the energy back into our bodies so we could properly function during the long day. After breakfast, we all got together and walked the mile or so to the studios of Ballet Met. All together, there were around 58 dancers (only one guy) and 4 chaperones. One chaperone would always lead, one was in the middle of the pack, and one was at the end. The final chaperone would be driving the car with any injured dancers.
Walking down to BalletMet, we made quite a show. On an ideal day, there wouldn’t be any huge gaps between sections of dancers as we walked. Then, when we had to cross a street, we could all make it across before the lights would change. This never happened. We never had any ideal walking days. Our huge straggly line could be seen from quite a distance as we held up traffic and blocked pedestrians’ pathways. When the BalletMet students descended, the others around soon learned to avoid our walking route. However, this was not so easily done. The poor, unfortunate souls from our area of Columbus had to be on their feet every morning, prepared for the daily adventure. We changed our route every morning. Yes, occasionally there were repeat paths, as the weeks went by. But every consecutive day was never the same. Those in charge of us wanted to be sure that no one was stalking us, learning our path, or planning attacks on all the young dancers that had to make the trek every morning.
The people at BalletMet were, in my opinion, just a bit overly concerned with a little concept known as STRANGER DANGER. The first two days we were at the intensive, before we were split into the actual levels we would be in for the rest of the camp, we had classes called Street Smarts. The class was taught by 4 women. One lady talked and explained the material, two of them demonstrated, and one sat there taking pictures for some reason. Basically, the class educated all of us vulnerable, female, (for the most part) short, and shy dancers what to do if we were ever attacked while walking to the studios and back. We needed to know this information. How to use our leverage, how to get out of a choke hold, and how to use the hip thrust were all valuable components of this life-saving class.
Don’t get me wrong. This information was important. It’s just that the emphasis that they put on the class was overwhelming. Quite frankly, everyone doubted that we would ever be attacked while walking back and forth from the studios and the dorms. For one thing, we had 3 or 4 chaperones with us at all times, making sure that we stayed together. For another, we traveled in such a huge pack that we all highly doubted there was any chance of attack. The women who taught the class told us that if you travel with one other person, your chance of being attacked went down by about 75%. If you traveled in a group of three, the chance went down by 98%. So then, logically speaking, what was the chance that we would ever be attacked when we traveled with 57 other dancers, not to mention at least 3 chaperones? It made no sense. After everyone realized this, we didn’t feel as scared as I’m sure they wanted us to.