Tuesday, July 11, 2006

The Red Record

THE RED RECORD



My biggest dream when I was six years old was to be exactly like my dance teacher, Mrs. Sullivan.

She was everything to me!

She was an older dance teacher with grey hair and twinkling blue eyes. Before each dance class, she looked like any ordinary mother or grandmother. But she quickly transformed into a beautiful ballerina each time she brushed her long silver locks into a simple bun, tied on ballet skirt and slipped on her magical dance shoes.

Each week, Mrs. Sullivan would pick the best behaved student in class to take home her red record. The award winning dancer would be able to keep the record for one week, until the next ballet class.

That red record contained all of the secrets to dancing.

I know what you’re thinking, “How old are you if you were playing records instead of CD’s?”

That was back in the days when they didn’t even know what a cassette tape was!!

At the end of Mrs. Sullivan’s class, I would cross my fingers so hard and pray that she would pick me.
I wanted to scream, “Pick Me! Pick Me!” But instead, I just tried to give her my very best smile and not beg like some of the other girls in my class.

Finally, the day came when I was chosen to take home the prized record.
Now I could play that scratchy red record at home, in my room, and pretend I was the dance teacher.

Every afternoon after school, I would run up the stairs to my room and immediately put on my leotard, tights, ballet shoes and my favorite yellow “gypsy” skirt. My mom could not take that skirt off my body. I wore it CONSTANTLY!!!

Next, I would call me sister into my room for a dance lesson.

Following closely to the voice on the record, we would learn all of the ballet positions, plies, tendus, etc. With our eyes closed, heads back and feeling the rhythm of the music, we would be transported onto the big stage as we performed as prima ballerinas.

After our ballet lesson, I would put on my tap shoes and my sister Sarah, would put on her black patton leather church shoes.

I would pretend that my tap shoes were painted silver like Mrs. Sullivan’s and I would teach my sister how to “shuffle-ball-change”. Never have you heard such a racket.

There, in my room, I was inspired to teach, to perform and to create.

Looking back, I wonder if Ms. Sullivan realized what a profound impact she had on her students. When she looked at our faces, did she see the beautiful ballerina that was reflected in our eyes? If only Ms. Sullivan knew how much magic was in her teaching and in that little red record.

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