For dance. For being a role model. For all sorts of things. (The Final Curtain Call, Revisited)

It’s kind of a big deal in dance today– it’s the first tryouts for my college dance team that I won’t be participating in, and it’s the last recital my dance studios seniors are in. Any other year, it’d be a tough choice for me to decide which to go to, but this year it was a little too easy, because I can’t really put into words how proud of North Andover School of Dance’s class of 2015 I am, even if I’m going to try.

Image via NASD Facebook
Image via NASD Facebook

I feel like every dancer comes to the moment when they’re like 14 or 15 where they realize that all the “big girls” that they used to idolize aren’t at the studio anymore, and that somehow they’ve become the “big girls.” For me, it was during a giant production rehearsal, and everyone in the room was just messing around. I threw a bunch of pirouettes, and the ridiculously talented 10-year-old in the room looked at me, and then threw just as many. My teacher caught it, smiled, tilted her head, and cooed, “aw, big sis and little sis nailing their turns.”

Big sis and little sis.

The next year the same girl pulled my name for Secret Santa, and on the evening of our Holiday Show gift exchange, I was pulling out big sis little sis necklaces. I knew, in the best way possible, that I was being watched.

Over the years I continued to hear about it: you’re being watched, Sara, work harder, someone is going to match the work you put in, Sara, don’t post that, you don’t want people to think that’s okay.

Maybe I’m just really flattering myself, and maybe all these kids weren’t really looking up to me the way I was imagining (hoping), but it doesn’t really matter. Because for me, it’s not really about what I could’ve given to them as a supposed “big girl”; it’s about what they gave to me.

I kept on working hard throughout high school because these little munchkins were always a pirouette, a leap, a tap trick behind me. I genuinely believe that I wouldn’t be the dancer that I am today if I didn’t have the need to make sure the little kids never got better than me (although that definitely happened…) I certainly wouldn’t be the person I am, either; when they eventually did get better than me, I learned how to support someone, how to stand behind them during their journey. I learned how to dance with integrity and confidence and love because I wanted them all to have that, too.

nasd recital
Image via NASD Facebook

So, NASD Class of 2015, I want you all to remember this today: Stay absolutely still in your head and in your heart. From someone who has done that final bow on the Collins Center stage, as someone who walked off from her final performance a short month and a half ago, I’m telling you to be still. Feel the stage lights on your skin, look at every fallen sequin on the marley floor, hold onto those moments in the wings for as long as the music lets you. Look everyone around you in the eye, and thank them for making you into the dancer you are; thank dance for making you the person you are.

And don’t think today that you’re never going to have this (the dancing, the friends, the studio, and the love that’s inside it) again. You will. I’m telling you from experience that you will. After months away, after millions of moments of happiness at college, you’re going to walk into that studio, it all is never going to have gone away.

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