Personal Narrative: Childhood Dance

The sideline, a place no one wants to be. A place where I spent the first half of football season, not participating, but watching my team dance at halftime.

Tryouts were held every Monday morning. Tuesday morning the list was posted of the girls that made the dance. Everyone that didn’t make the dance stood on the side the entire week during practice and watched. Friday night, the girls dancing took the field and the rest of the girls stood on the side, once again, and watched. Everyone knew our coach was one the hardest around, but I wasn’t scared.

The first Monday of the season rolled around and I was ready to go. As I sat waiting for my turn I thought to myself, “I have been dancing my entire life, I know I will make every dance.” My group was called up and I nailed the dance.
I could not wait to see my name. My stomach dropped. It wasn’t there. I was sure it had to be a mistake or a typo. I hurried to my director’s office with tears forming in my eyes. “There has to be a mistake,” I said. She told me to sit down then said, “I have seen you dance, and I know you can give me more.” She proceeded to tell me that she had seen me grow up dancing, and would not take anything less than the best. I felt horrible, and even considered quitting the team, but she wouldn’t let me.

My director pushed me harder than I had ever been pushed. I had to work more than I ever had in my life. I realized that not everything throughout my dance career would be handed to me like it had been in the past. Starting the season on the sideline was not what I planned, but taught me to work hard and that I needed to put forth more effort to accomplish my