Tell us about a personal quality, talent, accomplishment, contribution or experience that is important to you. What about this quality or accomplishment makes you proud and how does it relate to the person you are?
I leapt through the air full of energy, breaking through the wind resistance. A wave of satisfaction washed over my body as I landed almost silently, as if without force. My head faced the floor as my stance remained in plie. A small drop of sweat dripped down from my forehead. As I slowly looked up, I flashed the hardest smile I was capable of. My ballet instructor said to me "Your job is to make everything look easy, even if you are struggling on the inside." And indeed, it took a grueling number of years to master that job.
I was six years old when I received my first pair of soft pink ballet slippers. I entered the shiny ballet studio and stood still in amazement as I watched the older ballerinas twirl for what seemed like forever. I wanted to be just like them. My instructor led me to a smaller room filled with other girls around the same age as me. I remember the very first day of my lesson. All the girls held hands and formed a big circle and galloped around. After a couple of minutes, we each moved to the side bars and swung our legs back and forth. I did this same routine everyday for years until one day, something changed. My instructor told me I was going to move on to the next level, intermediate. She showed me the path to the bigger studio where all the older students were. My heart beat echoed in my ear and my legs shook ever so violently as I tip toed tiny steps into a new and unfamiliar room.
The atmosphere in the new room was much tenser. I was captivated by the sweat, effort, and the competitiveness that permeated in the air. In that split second, I heard a thud and turned around to see a girl on the floor holding her foot, screaming in pain. I stared at her foot and noticed the strong and shiny pointe shoes she wore and compared them to my soft and leathery slippers. A couple weeks later, I had my first pair of pointe shoes. After months of just learning how to stand up in the shoes, I was finally allowed to perform dance techniques in them. I was told to go to the bar and swing my legs back and forth like I did in the beginner class. However, this time, my instructor told me to hold my pose when my leg swung back. I looked in the mirror and was astonished I formed an arabesque. At that moment, I realized the simple steps I routinely performed in the beginner class were being channeled into complex techniques. The tougher obstacle was learning how to pirouette. I attempted to twirl and fell to the ground. I looked up to my teacher fishing for comfort. She said to me "Get up. Do it again." Playtime was over, and there was no mercy. My muscles tightened as I used my remaining strength to get up. At times, I cried out of frustration. After months of perfecting it, the bottom of my foot formed hard blisters and calluses, a mark of my hard work.
As I cross the threshold into my next level of life, there will be obstacles that I will tackle again. Using the knowledge I had gained over time, I will continue to push forward. As I reminisce and reflect back on this experience, I realize there will come times where I will fall. But, like I was taught, I will get back up with a bright smile pierced on my face, radiantly glowing.
I leapt through the air full of energy, breaking through the wind resistance. A wave of satisfaction washed over my body as I landed almost silently, as if without force. My head faced the floor as my stance remained in plie. A small drop of sweat dripped down from my forehead. As I slowly looked up, I flashed the hardest smile I was capable of. My ballet instructor said to me "Your job is to make everything look easy, even if you are struggling on the inside." And indeed, it took a grueling number of years to master that job.
I was six years old when I received my first pair of soft pink ballet slippers. I entered the shiny ballet studio and stood still in amazement as I watched the older ballerinas twirl for what seemed like forever. I wanted to be just like them. My instructor led me to a smaller room filled with other girls around the same age as me. I remember the very first day of my lesson. All the girls held hands and formed a big circle and galloped around. After a couple of minutes, we each moved to the side bars and swung our legs back and forth. I did this same routine everyday for years until one day, something changed. My instructor told me I was going to move on to the next level, intermediate. She showed me the path to the bigger studio where all the older students were. My heart beat echoed in my ear and my legs shook ever so violently as I tip toed tiny steps into a new and unfamiliar room.
The atmosphere in the new room was much tenser. I was captivated by the sweat, effort, and the competitiveness that permeated in the air. In that split second, I heard a thud and turned around to see a girl on the floor holding her foot, screaming in pain. I stared at her foot and noticed the strong and shiny pointe shoes she wore and compared them to my soft and leathery slippers. A couple weeks later, I had my first pair of pointe shoes. After months of just learning how to stand up in the shoes, I was finally allowed to perform dance techniques in them. I was told to go to the bar and swing my legs back and forth like I did in the beginner class. However, this time, my instructor told me to hold my pose when my leg swung back. I looked in the mirror and was astonished I formed an arabesque. At that moment, I realized the simple steps I routinely performed in the beginner class were being channeled into complex techniques. The tougher obstacle was learning how to pirouette. I attempted to twirl and fell to the ground. I looked up to my teacher fishing for comfort. She said to me "Get up. Do it again." Playtime was over, and there was no mercy. My muscles tightened as I used my remaining strength to get up. At times, I cried out of frustration. After months of perfecting it, the bottom of my foot formed hard blisters and calluses, a mark of my hard work.
As I cross the threshold into my next level of life, there will be obstacles that I will tackle again. Using the knowledge I had gained over time, I will continue to push forward. As I reminisce and reflect back on this experience, I realize there will come times where I will fall. But, like I was taught, I will get back up with a bright smile pierced on my face, radiantly glowing.