In an earlier post [see The Show Must Go On (Finale)], I recounted a conversation with my oldest godson, Charles, in which he said “I have some ideas,” and noted that there was a story behind that statement. That is the subject of today’s post.
Charles was all about dance, even before he could walk. My mom gave him a pair of ballet slippers for his first Christmas, when he was seven months old, and we have photos of him in the shoes with his leg lifted in somewhat of an arabesque. By two, he was trying to do the choreography that my teenaged company dancers were performing. We have an old VHS tape of him doing all the divertissements from Nutcracker Act II by himself when he was three. And he choreographed from a very young age, as well. I remember once, around Easter, he had a whole bunch of Hershey’s kisses in pastel foil wrappers out on the kitchen island, moving them around in obvious groupings. When I asked him what he was doing, he said “I’m making a dance.”
This particular story happened when Charles was five. I had a guest choreographer in residence to set her one-act version of Alice In Wonderland for the company during a two-week summer workshop. At the time, my studio was in the un-air conditioned second floor of an old downtown building. Yes – summer, upstairs, no AC – it was scorching, even with fans blowing at high speed. But that didn’t stop Charles from wanting to watch every rehearsal.
One afternoon, the choreographer, August, was working on the Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum section. She had set this ballet before, but was making adjustments to the choreography as she staged it for us. Something wasn’t looking the way she wanted with the Tweedles, and so she experimented with a couple of different things. Nothing was really making her happy and you could tell she was getting frustrated, both with the dancers and herself…and the heat wasn’t helping. Finally, she settled on an option, and said “Let’s take a break and then try that version for now,” before moving to sit down at the front of the room.
She was talking to me, something about how she still didn’t like what she’d set, but felt like she needed to keep moving forward, when Charles walked over, put his hand on her leg, and earnestly leaned in.
Charles (with complete confidence, once he had August’s attention): “I have a better idea.”
Penny (cringing slightly): “Charles!”
August: “Oh, I’m sure you probably do.” And then she burst out laughing.
I’m sure he showed her whatever his “better idea” was, but I no longer remember if she used it or not. The funny part to me has always been that he had the nerve to say that to her at the ripe old age of five, and I’ve related this story many times over the years, usually in illustration of Charles’ born-to-dance confidence. However, as I think about it now, it also reflects a few other important things. One of those is that Charles felt safe enough in his environment to make that bold claim. The other is that August allowed that what this precocious child said might be true, and acknowledged it freely.
All of our children need that sense of safety, so they feel secure in sharing their ideas with the adults in their lives. And all of us adults need to not take ourselves too seriously, so that we can remain open to the possibility that our kids just might have a better idea.
Penny Askew 