If we were having coffee today I’d have to tell you about my daughter’s recent award. Well, it wasn’t a formal award. It was more a bit of recognition from one of her students. As you can see from this picture, it was an homage in the form of a 10 reasons list. It brought tears to my eyes.
I posted this on Facebook at first. It got a lot of likes and a few comments mentioning that we, her parents, had done such a good job. Sure, we enrolled her in dance. We paid for it. We rallied through rehearsals and competitions. We volunteered where we could and continued to encourage her. But, seriously, that is just the tip of the iceberg. It’s a good metaphor. Beyond all of that, lies the truth. She worked hard. She formed and molded, she learned, she studied, she practiced, and she focused. She did everything she could. This is all her.
We’ve seen a lot of dancers come and go, a lot of them very dedicated dancers too. A very few have progressed to the level Audrey currently enjoys. In short, most of those past dancers burned out. Audrey continues to flourish.
I’ve seen her take recital classes of tiny dancers, four and five years old, who most teachers feel lucky if they manage to go through most of the motions and make her dancers actually dance. They stand out. Where others see a bunch of little kids who find it hard to keep focused longer than five minutes, Audrey sees a class she can teach and then she motivates them to learn. She is a master teacher, one who makes it fun while instilling knowledge and skill. Little students love her and older students love her even more.
It hasn’t been easy for her. She’s short. The common perception about “tiny” ballerinas? It’s a myth. Ballerinas need to be at least four or five inches taller than she is. Almost always. But she learned and practiced and applied herself. And she thinks dance, a skill she very early figured out makes her an exceptional choreographer.
She’s done some remarkable things too. Did you know that she was the first person at Duke University to earn an official Bachelor’s degree in Dance? The first. Their department had a dance minor for a long time and she was a dance minor her first year. But while Audrey was there, they upgraded the program and she was the first declared dance major. She’s concentrated on teaching but has had some great experiences professionally dancing in a few companies.
Teaching dance pays okay, but most of the time it’s a part-time job. She’s compensated by teaching a lot, sometimes at as many as five or six different studios. That, my friends, is true dedication to her craft. I frankly don’t know how she keeps her schedule straight.
So go back and reread that list after reading this short essay. One could easily change “Jazz” and put in “Ballet” or “Modern” or “Tap.” THAT is my daughter. Her mother and I couldn’t be more proud of her.

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Thomas Fenske is a writer and “dance dad” living in North Carolina. You can get more information at http://thefensk.com
If we were having coffee today, I’d realize I hadn’t seen you in a week so I guess I’d simply have to mention my latest review. It’s a little bit of a redo since I’ve already posted about it but consider this: the review was so good, I think it deserves two posts.

We followed up on Daisy’s status. She was almost immediately adopted. We’re both happy for her, but we’re also just a little sad. We got totally involved and invested in that few seconds. But we’re both hopeful that she found her forever home.
“Turn right.”
We took a left on what we were assured was a state road, State Road 814.
And what a road it was … we went up and down and around, and up and down and around. We traversed a couple of mountains with long stretches of steep drop-offs with no rail. This was ear-popping, white-knuckle driving.
Pound for pound, my favorite Christmas gift this year was my Baking Steel. That pound for pound comment was a joke. It is heavy.
It is basically a slab of steel, just like the name implies. You preheat it for about an hour. You assemble your pie, and using your pizza peel you launch it onto the hot steel. About 5-6 minutes later you retrieve it and … mama mia!
Fifteen years ago today, I was driving south on US 29 in southern Virginia when I spied a bright light moving across the sky. There were no blinking lights associated with, just a smooth steady motion, very bright, across the sky from West to East.
Anyway, as we approach the fifteen-year anniversary of the tragedy I’ll be thinking about the Columbia crew and their families. Tragedies like this make us all stronger and help to make space flight even safer. The shuttle was the most complicated machine ever built. That we lost three out of five was regrettable, but even more regrettable is the fact that we lost continuity … we should have continued building them, making them better and safer, maybe a new one every four years. At the very least we should have had a replacement vehicle ready long before we retired the fleet.