Free Passion and Pain (Dancers and Divas) by Kathy Petrakis Page B

you, you know.”
    Elena turned to see the tiny blond girl looking at her with pale blue eyes.
    “How do you figure?”
    “I know a lot about technique, but I can’t seem to perform very well. Maybe I could help you with technique and you could help me with performance?” The girl looked at her hopefully. Elena sat on the bench and curled her knees up to her chest. She was too exhausted to think.
    “You do have brilliant technique. I am surprised you’re not at the School of American Ballet,” Elena said.
    The girl tentatively came and sat next to her in the change room. “That was my first choice , but my grandmother insisted on a more diverse education. She wanted me to learn other dancing styles and graduate high school. So here I am. I go to the School of American Ballet for summer training,” she said in her quiet voice.
    “I’m Elena, by the way.”
    “Anya Shapiro. And yes, I’m Russian. Ha ha , another Russian ballerina.”
    “Nothing wrong with that,” Elena said and gave Anya a warm smile. Anya smiled back shyly.
    “So how can I improve my technique?”
    “First, I suggest you come to the class I teach on Saturdays. It’s free and though it has younger kids, I actually correct the technique of each and every student. Most teachers just tell you to do this or that and don’t actually show you what you’re missing.”
    “OK.”
    “Then I think I should look at your practice routine and see what I can fix. The biggest problem is practicing the wrong thing. You can spend hours and go nowhere because of one tiny thing you never noticed,” Anya said quickly, almost running out of breath.
    “Sounds reasonable. How can I help you with performance? All I know is that I feel the music but I don’t know how I actually do it.”
    “We’ll think of something.”
    “When can we start?”
    “Here,” Anya said as she grabbed a card out of her bag. “This is the place where I teach. Class is at 2 p . m . on Saturdays.” With that she stood up and grabbed her bag. “I better get going. The car will be waiting for me.”
    The car? Who was this girl?
     
     
    That Saturday after her morning shift at TGI Fridays, Elena got ready for her first class with Anya. Elena had to admit she was curious. She had nothing to lose, after all, but learning with all those kids was going to be a bit embarrassing.
    She headed out to Brooklyn, hoping blindly that this would be the miracle she needed. She found the studio easily and waved to Anya when she saw her. 
    “Hi Elena. Most kids have been coming here a while so they know the drill. Just try and keep up. They may look at you strangely at first but don’t worry they will get over it - they’re more interested in ballet.”
    “So who are these kids?”
    “Most of them are kids whose parents can’t afford lessons. I teach for free and the borough lets me use this hall.”
    “Impressive. I wish had this when I was growing up. ”
    About fifteen kids stared at Elena with open curiosity. Elena smiled back weakly.
    “Good morning everyone,” Anya said with a firm tone.
    “Good morning, Miss Anya.”
    “Now do we all remember the warm up?”
    “Yes, Miss Anya . ”
    “This is a new student, Elena. Remember, we always help new students, right?”
    “Yes, Miss Anya.”
    These kids looked at Anya like she was a g od, eager to please and following her every word. It was so cute!
    Anya started the music.
    “First position and one,” Anya said.
    Elena could follow the basics easily. She had learned that much.
    Anya went past each student , correct ing them.
    When she got to Elena she stood and watched her for a moment.
    “Okay, more turn out from the hip, not the knee.”
    Elena adjusted.
    “Arms reaching out from the shoulder and always within your peripheral vision. Just this slight mistake can throw you off balance when you turn. And don’t think about tucking in. Think about stretching your spine from the top of your neck to your coccyx. Shoulders down.