Little Girl Dreams

My first ballet teacher, Mrs. Houser, had a ruler she used to clap in her hand when we were at the barre. I was scared to death of getting whacked in the calf. The other girls in class said it didn't hurt, but I wasn't convinced. She wore caftans or long skirts in loud colors. Her graying hair was tucked high and loose with a comb and her low heeled shoes clicked when she walked. I was glad when she left.

My second teacher, Mrs. Moravech was dark and thin, always in a black leotard. She talked with such a thick accent that most of the time I had no idea what she was saying. I adored her. She told my mom I had great feet. Mrs. Moravech's daughter, Donna, was in my class. Donna was the only one my teacher ever yelled at. Sometimes Donna yelled back but I couldn't understand what she was saying either. I was devastated when Mrs. Moravech moved away. There were a few more ballet teachers but they never stuck around my small town for too long. The nearest ballet school was in Toledo and Dad said it was too far and too expensive. One of the girls in my class, Mary, went on to study at Toledo Ballet and eventually joined a ballet company.