Blinding lights flash in my eyes as I perform the routines I’ve worked on for months. Though I am tired, I keep pushing. I work for these moments onstage every day after school. Every hour spent at the studio while my homework goes undone builds up to these moments on the stage.
I have danced for as long as I can remember. I took my first dance class when I was 3, and knew at that moment that I loved it. Between ages 5 and 10 I tried soccer, volleyball, softball and basketball, but none of them made me feel as happy as dancing. As the years passed by I began to take more and more classes. I went from a ballet, tap and tumbling class for preschoolers to taking ballet, tap, jazz, lyrical and hip-hop classes. When I was in fourth grade I moved from recreational classes to classes at the competitive level.
Now sixteen, I have competed for seven years. My team and I have grown so much from our first dance competition where we did a singular jazz dance. I now compete with five dances including two tap dances, a jazz dance, a hip-hop dance and a lyrical dance. I spend hours every day at the studio learning and cleaning every dance so that in the spring I can go onto stage after stage and be judged.
Most people think dance works like reality TV portrays it, but they could not be more wrong. Within my competition team, I have found a family and support system where we can all push each other to become the best people that we can be. We build each other up and help each other grow into better dancers. The girls I get to dance with make every day better. When we go up on stage, we dance for more than just ourselves. Every time we dance, we dance for each other. When one person dances off count or forgets the choreography, the team suffers. This pressure forces us to make sure that every time we go onstage, we do our absolute best.
Even though these girls provide unwavering support for my anxiety, asthma attacks and self doubt, I always feel sick to my stomach before I go onstage. Anxiety and nerves plague me until the moment I walk out onstage and feel the sense of calm that only competition can make me feel. Even though I know that at least one hundred people watch every move I make, judging how I dance, the anxiety melts away. The energy feels electric as we go through our routine. The lights always shine so bright that I can barely see the audience, but that doesn’t matter because when I am onstage, I have the most fun.
Even though every competition season must end, we still have one more performance. Every May we have a studio-wide recital, every student enrolled in a dance class participates. I have seven dances to perform as well as the seven classes that I assist in. We spend Recital weekend doing quick changes in the dark backstage of Texas Hall. Bringing lanterns and flashlights with a questionable amount of battery life makes the weekend feel like a huge fever dream. Two chaotic days with my closest friends, running backstage and to the other dressing rooms in an attempt to help the younger girls be ready for the stage. The perfect end to a season of dancing. Though the lights at the recital do not shine as bright as those at the competition, I feel the same rush. No matter what stage I am on, knowing I have my team beside me makes the experience perfect.
