Ah middle school.... I had two very dear athletic friends who dragged me into track and even basketball one year. The only reason I made the basketball team was because they were short players. In my second year of track, our coach moved me from sprinting to the 440 and mile because I was better at distance. I can’t say I appreciated the honor!
Thanks for the beautiful reminder of how much we are given that we don’t deserve, and how, as a result, we can freely give.
Oh Elizabeth--I love this so much! It's so beautifully written that reading it really does feel like a gift :)
In middle school, I didn't exactly go in for team sports--I did taekwondo. Better still, I showed up in my brown belt and did a taekwondo demo AT THE ALL-SCHOOL TALENT SHOW. That wasn't a tryout scenario exactly, but it made at least one boy seated within earshot of my dad announce that I was frightening so . . . I guess I made the cut?
I was homeschooled and held my friends who liked athletics and dance at arm's length since my family was already full of athletes who I ate Captain Crunch with every day. But in middle school my mom made me take a community jujitsu class. I was twelve. I was the oldest and tallest kid in the class. I was also the only girl. I wanted to be anywhere else but on that gym mat practicing positions and rolls. Yoga pants were not a thing, stirrup leggings were for dressing up, and I guess I didn't own a pair of sweatpants, because on the last day of class my jeans split along the back of my thigh. I don't even know if I was more embarassed for myself or for everyone else in the room. I guess this story ends in humiliation. Except that I credit that class with teaching my body how to fall. One of our drills was going from standing upright to laying flat on our backs without injury, learning to let ourselves crumple and absorb the shock in the right places, and doing it over and over until it became instinctual. I have terrible balance and have fallen off of horses almost as many times as I've stayed on, not to mention losing my footing on a slick surface or missing a stairstep. I'm not immune to falling. But so far, I've never suffered a sprain or broken bone. So maybe it ends with glory, too. Falling, gloriously.
A friend saw my picture here and shared this with me! First, what beautiful words and astounding perspective you share! Second, what I believe you’re forgetting is that a percentage of total points on the try out scores were reserved for “character points”. Not a one of the other seven (or anyone I know really) could have possibly scored higher than you on those! Always kind and gracious! I hope you’re doing well! Loved this read!
Oh my goodness, Tara! Nothing could have made me happier than hearing from you-- the MUCH better flyer. 😉 These were such fun times. I could have kept writing and writing. I hope you and yours are well too!
Dec 14, 2023·edited Dec 14, 2023Liked by Elizabeth Harwell
My own reckoning with my lack of qualifications came in sixth grade. Several of my schoolmates and I were cast in the high school production of Annie. I sobbed for about a week over (rightly) not getting the lead role, and then sobered up when I realized I had a more immediate problem: as an orphan I would have to do a lot of dancing, including a big tap number.
My only dance experience was a single ballet class I'd taken in kindergarten. If Annie required a plié or a tour jeté, I was set. That was the extent of what I brought to the table.
All of the other girls had grown up in our small town immersed in dance at the Curtis Dance Studio. They were on a first-name basis with the owner, Mary Lou. They had their own special lingo. They performed in recitals in various types of dance, and they wore glamorous costumes of sequins and tulle and satin and hairbows. I was an outsider in lots of ways in my town, but not being a Curtis student was one of the ways in which I felt it most keenly.
The first day of Annie dance rehearsal, I knew I was sunk. While the other girls combined steps with ease, I struggled to put my weight on the correct foot at any given time. The choreographer must have explained the situation to Mr. Hill, our director. He arranged for a fellow orphan to coach me at home. The two of us worked for hours on the cement patio in my backyard under the strawberry guava tree, and I worked many more alone. I never got anywhere near as good as the other girls, but I managed not to humiliate myself in front of the audience, and I can shuffle off to Buffalo to this day.
When my eldest wanted to increase his chances of being cast in a show his junior year, he learned how to tap dance on YouTube for auditions, and was the only non-dancer cast in the dance ensemble. He was also far and away the least qualified, but it was enough. That show was canceled the day of opening night because of COVID, but he used the story of learning to tap for his college admissions essay. So you never know what benefits may come from your willingness to do something you're not the best at!
Ah middle school.... I had two very dear athletic friends who dragged me into track and even basketball one year. The only reason I made the basketball team was because they were short players. In my second year of track, our coach moved me from sprinting to the 440 and mile because I was better at distance. I can’t say I appreciated the honor!
Thanks for the beautiful reminder of how much we are given that we don’t deserve, and how, as a result, we can freely give.
Two years on the track team is super impressive to me, Loren! Hurrah for athletic friends who drag us outside of ourselves. :)
Oh Elizabeth--I love this so much! It's so beautifully written that reading it really does feel like a gift :)
In middle school, I didn't exactly go in for team sports--I did taekwondo. Better still, I showed up in my brown belt and did a taekwondo demo AT THE ALL-SCHOOL TALENT SHOW. That wasn't a tryout scenario exactly, but it made at least one boy seated within earshot of my dad announce that I was frightening so . . . I guess I made the cut?
The school talent show?! So courageous of you, Thea!! (And frightening 😆)
Of course it was also really, really nerdy of me ;)
I was homeschooled and held my friends who liked athletics and dance at arm's length since my family was already full of athletes who I ate Captain Crunch with every day. But in middle school my mom made me take a community jujitsu class. I was twelve. I was the oldest and tallest kid in the class. I was also the only girl. I wanted to be anywhere else but on that gym mat practicing positions and rolls. Yoga pants were not a thing, stirrup leggings were for dressing up, and I guess I didn't own a pair of sweatpants, because on the last day of class my jeans split along the back of my thigh. I don't even know if I was more embarassed for myself or for everyone else in the room. I guess this story ends in humiliation. Except that I credit that class with teaching my body how to fall. One of our drills was going from standing upright to laying flat on our backs without injury, learning to let ourselves crumple and absorb the shock in the right places, and doing it over and over until it became instinctual. I have terrible balance and have fallen off of horses almost as many times as I've stayed on, not to mention losing my footing on a slick surface or missing a stairstep. I'm not immune to falling. But so far, I've never suffered a sprain or broken bone. So maybe it ends with glory, too. Falling, gloriously.
Oh my goodness, what a story! And what skills, you have, Reagan. Reminds me of AP’s “Turns out, even when we fall we are beautiful.”
I think one of these days you should give us lessons in falling, Reagan. Sounds like they’re extremely useful!
A friend saw my picture here and shared this with me! First, what beautiful words and astounding perspective you share! Second, what I believe you’re forgetting is that a percentage of total points on the try out scores were reserved for “character points”. Not a one of the other seven (or anyone I know really) could have possibly scored higher than you on those! Always kind and gracious! I hope you’re doing well! Loved this read!
Oh my goodness, Tara! Nothing could have made me happier than hearing from you-- the MUCH better flyer. 😉 These were such fun times. I could have kept writing and writing. I hope you and yours are well too!
My own reckoning with my lack of qualifications came in sixth grade. Several of my schoolmates and I were cast in the high school production of Annie. I sobbed for about a week over (rightly) not getting the lead role, and then sobered up when I realized I had a more immediate problem: as an orphan I would have to do a lot of dancing, including a big tap number.
My only dance experience was a single ballet class I'd taken in kindergarten. If Annie required a plié or a tour jeté, I was set. That was the extent of what I brought to the table.
All of the other girls had grown up in our small town immersed in dance at the Curtis Dance Studio. They were on a first-name basis with the owner, Mary Lou. They had their own special lingo. They performed in recitals in various types of dance, and they wore glamorous costumes of sequins and tulle and satin and hairbows. I was an outsider in lots of ways in my town, but not being a Curtis student was one of the ways in which I felt it most keenly.
The first day of Annie dance rehearsal, I knew I was sunk. While the other girls combined steps with ease, I struggled to put my weight on the correct foot at any given time. The choreographer must have explained the situation to Mr. Hill, our director. He arranged for a fellow orphan to coach me at home. The two of us worked for hours on the cement patio in my backyard under the strawberry guava tree, and I worked many more alone. I never got anywhere near as good as the other girls, but I managed not to humiliate myself in front of the audience, and I can shuffle off to Buffalo to this day.
When my eldest wanted to increase his chances of being cast in a show his junior year, he learned how to tap dance on YouTube for auditions, and was the only non-dancer cast in the dance ensemble. He was also far and away the least qualified, but it was enough. That show was canceled the day of opening night because of COVID, but he used the story of learning to tap for his college admissions essay. So you never know what benefits may come from your willingness to do something you're not the best at!
Who knows when tap dancing may come in handy again? Bravo to both of you for learning a new skill. (And I would have picked you for Annie, truly.)