Hey hip new ballet instructor: Stairway to Heaven for five year-olds – Really?

I am definitely a girly mom, I have two very girly daughters that I threw into ballet classes starting at age 3. Anyone who writes the monthly check to pay for two kids to take dance classes quickly realizes that it is an investment.  My monthly obligation is comparable to a car payment, a payment on a really nice car. So as a parent, I have certain expectations.

On Saturday I spent all day  at recital practice for my two daughters’ first big recital with their new dance company.  It was a long day, kids got up early to organize their costumes, gel back their hair in tight pony tails, then applied an abundance of “recital” make up.  Off we went  for a full day of lovely performances, sitting with other moms, tending to our daughters and making sure their costumes and hair were perfect. Encouraging them to smile and do their best.

Anyone that has ever been to one of these knows that the true stars of the show are the “little ones.” Fluffy tutus, hair in ringlets —absolutely adorable kiddos who don’t have a clue about what comes next in their dance routine, but it doesn’t matter.  These routines are carefully planned to steal the show. Their parents and grandparents are armed with video cameras and are going to catch every second of their little princesses . Their first big performance on stage.  The parents are gushing, the kids feel like stars, a memory is made that will be treasured forever. That’s what we pay for!

We had watched a half dozen of these acts interspersed throughout the afternoon, little princesses dancing to Wish Upon a Star, Be our Guest, Tutti Fruitti, Waiting for my Prince.  The adorable meter is on full tilt.

And then it happened.  The ballet instructor walked onto the stage followed by four beautiful little angels in sky blue tutus, flowers in their hair, flowers on their skirts. Cherubs. They were beautiful!  “Miss ______’s Beginning Ballet class will be performing today to Stairway to Heaven.”

The slow piano intro started. The cherubs begin to slowly do their tendus. Not a smile on single one of their angelic faces. The pace is painful.

Are you kidding me? Led  Zeppelin? These 5 year-olds are performing in their first recital to Stairway to Heaven?

For anyone that grew up in the 70s, Zeppelin’s Stairway to Heaven, conjures up images of a pot smoked filled Led Zeppelin concert, stoned teenagers waving their lighters in the audience, passing the bong. It personally reminds me of slow dancing at my eighth-grade graduation, girls with tunnel curls in their Gunne Sax dresses, boys in  polyester leisure suits.  Ugh! An image etched into my brain that I very much want to forget.  Stairway to Heaven, inarguably the most overplayed rock ballad in the history of mankind.  

Those poor children.  This was so wrong on so many levels. Am I the only one that thinks so?

 “Who in their right mind makes little girls dance to Stairway to Heaven?” I said under my breath not realizing I’d said it out loud. Hearing this seemed to awaken the bored mom sitting in front of me who looked up from scrolling through Facebook on her iPhone. She whipped her head around to share her disgust: “If it goes on for ten minutes, I’m going to kill myself.”

All right then!  I am not alone in my thinking.

Please don’t misunderstand my point. I don’t think it’s wrong to use other genres of music for ballet. In fact, I think it’s fabulous.  My own daughter is performing a ballet choreographed to an instrumental version of Lady Gaga’s Bad Romance.  It’s awesome.  I clearly remember my college roommate’s excitement for her first ballet class and  the “cool electric guitar” music her instructor had chosen. It was Joe Satriani’s “Surfing with the Alien. “  For 1987, it was very cutting edge. Very cool!  Perfect for a college level ballet course. Ballet that rocks, I’m all over it!

And it’s not that I’m so prim and proper that I don’t enjoy “getting the Led out.”  In fact it wasn’t too long ago when I was feeling a little edgy that I downloaded the intro to Kashmir as my cell phone ring to impress my husband. He wasn’t the only one that rocked. I could “rock” too.  I thought it was very cool for a while until my cell phone went off in the middle of a parent teacher conference. My child’s 26-year old tattooed and pierced, Boy George wanna-be male teacher —who I was not very impressed with, looked up and said, “That is so rad! I can’t believe someone your age would have that as your ring tone.”  Okay, stoner ringtone DELETE—gone before I was even out of the school parking lot.

Back to my point, parents invest their time and money into ballet classes for their kids for two basic reasons:  One, they want their daughters to learn some poise, grace and coordination. And two, they want their kids to have fun.

If they have fun in ballet while they are little, they learn to love ballet and are more likely to still love it when they are older. Their first recital performance is important. It should be fun. It should be a fabulous memory. Make the little girls feel like princesses, let them perform to their favorite ballet princess song, steal the hearts of the audience. That’s what it’s all about. That’s what the parents want, that’s what makes the kids happy.

That’s what we’re paying for.

Hey hip new ballet instructor who thinks she made a rad choice… Leave the Zeppelin on the eight track. Give the little ones and their parents a princess moment.

P.S. I just want to note that despite that I did not care for the music choice (full disclosure, it was an instrumental version, but that doesn’t change that it’s a bad song), the little angels did a fantastic job with their dancing.  

Do not fear Facebook: Five simple rules

Ok, I admit it. I’m kind of addicted to it. But I’m much better than I used to be. And at least now I only log on a few times a day, and anymore, I often find it boring.

Either you’re social or you’re not social. For someone who has worked from home for the last several years, Facebook has become my water cooler. Being home alone for several hours a day can be isolating, especially for someone who thrives on being around other people. And since there were other people across the state who did the same job, Facebook kept me connected to what was going on. Good excuse, right?

Yes, I can see why it would be intimidating for some people. Not everyone is cut out for “The Social Network”.  But I’ve developed a few easy rules to follow, so posting isn’t so daunting.  Look at it like its one big party with your 400+ closest friends. Okay, maybe not your closest friends, but people that you have encountered throughout your lifetime. Life is about building relationships.

Rule #1: Never post anything you wouldn’t share at a party

That would be a party attended by your pastor, your ex-boss that you may need to use as a reference some day;  the cute guy you had a huge crush on in high school; your sorority sisters, who of course have blackmail photos and are not afraid to use them; the woman who cleans your house; the neighborhood moms, who you want your kids to have future play dates with; and your family members who will report back to your own mother.  People do read your posts and look at your photos.   If it’s not appropriate to say in front of these people, don’t post it.

Rule #2: Don’t post your dirty laundry

 Is it truly how you want to represent yourself at the party?  Keep your dirty laundry to yourself.  It’s tacky! Always use the Thumper Rule: If you can’t say something nice, keep your mouth shut.

Rule #3:  The five minute rule—Think it through before you post

Don’t be impulsive.  Give yourself at least five minutes to think about what you want to say. Proof read it out loud. Then when you’re ready, press share.  And don’t take it personally if no one comments or gives you a thumbs up. If you like what you said, don’t worry about it. If it bothers you for more than five minutes after you post, then just go back on and delete. Easy.

Rule #4: Don’t post dumb stuff

No one cares. Enough said.

Rule #5: Don’t accept every friend request you get and don’t be afraid to unfriend.

If you don’t know the person, they shouldn’t be in your network.  If someone posts something that is offensive to me, I will simply unfriend them. I often unfriend people who post godless, liberal, urban elitist rants. I will do this without hesitation. There are a lot of people who like to express hate toward a recent former president whom I adore.  Unfriend!  This is “my” social network that I’ve created. You don’t belong on my network if you are offensive. I have tough skin and I have an open mind, but the last thing I want to waste my time on is reading your idiotic, offensive views. I do have exceptions and I will simply remove them from my newsfeed. I have one exception that I have hesitantly left on my feed, it reminds me to pray for that person. And Lord knows he needs prayers. Unfortunately there are others who I have no mercy upon. Wacky McSmackey with the offensive comment?… Unfriend!

Facebook shouldn’t be intimidating. With five hundred million people on Facebook, whether we like it or not, social networking  is here to stay. So make it work for you.  Make wise choices and design your social network so that you enjoy it. Or simply forget about it and become a blogger.

The parking space

Yesterday a prominent man in our state died. He was a successful investor and philanthropist who had given millions to non-profits around our state; a tremendous supporter of the arts, healthcare and education.

I had the privilege of working in his building for several years back in the 90s. I distinctly remember that he drove his teal green Cadillac every day and had the first parking space next to the building. The car was always there.  The car was a sure sign he was in the building. Often on weekends his would be the only car in the empty parking lot. You would see his wife and his son come and go, but he would arrive early and leave late. I rarely saw him. I assumed he was always working.  But the car, it was always there.

One Sunday afternoon, I pulled into the parking lot and saw him standing next to his car. When I got out he walked up to me and explained that he had left his card key in his office and asked if could I let him in to the building. I smiled, knowing exactly who he was and said “Well, you will have to tell me who you are and show me some identification. You know I’m not going to let just anyone into this building.”  He was surprised by this. He could have yelled at me. He could have gotten very upset.  He was, of course, one of the richest, most powerful men in our state. But he didn’t. He smiled! He pulled out his driver’s license and he thanked me. He said “I own the building and I certainly appreciate that you won’t let just anyone  in.” We chatted for a moment, and then I let him in.  From that day on he always had a warm smile when I passed him in the elevator.

I had not thought of him in years. It was a coincidence that I was back in his building yesterday for I had not been back in nearly 12 years.  I came home and read online that he had passed.

Working in the legislature, I have met many state leaders and politicians that think they are solely responsible for the direction of this state. Working in fundraising, you meet a lot of somewhat affluent people, some with huge egos, who think the world revolves around them. But I’ve found that some of the wealthiest, most powerful people, the older ones who worked hard for every dime, are usually kind and very generous.  Even when they don’t have to be.

His generosity certainly made this state a better place.

I wonder if he got a good parking space in heaven for his teal Cadillac.