A

s a 22-year-old man who grew up in Niles, I can hon- what, I probably have better balance than these girls.
estly say that no one ever told me to be a dancer. As I’m changing before my first class, a dance beat pounds
Though I dabbled with singing and acting in high through the bathroom walls. The stomping sounds like a terrify-
school, I refused to audition for musicals and only ing march until I recognize Britney Spears. As it turns out, I’d find
ever bothered with the basic steps of swing dancing. it easier to groove to her than to mangle ballet steps to the manic
So what happens when I push beyond that last male boundary: classical piano I’m about to hear.
learning to dance like I mean it? I meet Jackie in the empty classroom and awkwardly remove
my shoes. Since I’m the only student (lucky me) Jackie takes her
Day One: Private Lessons time showing me five basic foot positions, all of which require a
disquieting amount of leg twisting. First position, heels together,
(almost) toes out, high arches. My knees are winking at me, the muscles
pulsing with a twinge that reminds me that leg joints don’t bend
that way. Jackie’s knees don’t seem to object.
My ballet instructor Jackie sits at her desk, framed by a large
Second position. Put some space between the heels. Third
piece of banner paper with the word “ballet” drawn on it in cray-
and fourth blur together until I reach fifth, where my front heel
on colors. Taking ballet lessons for the first time is intimidating,
is shaking hands with the big toe of my back foot. That’s a lot of
but despite the glass, brick and steel of the downtown studio, the
body parts jumbled together. Suddenly just standing is a chal-
place has the friendly reassurance of a preschool due to the little-
lenge, but Jackie takes it easy on a first-timer and says I don’t
people furniture and young ballerinas waiting with their mothers
have to turn my legs out too far — yet.
in the lobby of Youngstown’s Ballet Western Reserve. No matter
Now we’re gracefully sweeping arms and legs through the air

The Yo’s amateur ballerino steps off on the wrong foot

[A Yo* Diary]

By Richard Louis Boccia

16
 Physically it’s a
challenge, but
psychologically,
it’s torture to
try and fail
at something
for an hour.

while standing, like we’re waving straight inside. Jackie tells me to grazes her ear. Her legs look look away in embarrassment,
the most elegant airplane imagin- imagine I’m writing with a crayon like the hands of a clock at 10:30. not because I’m doing ballet,
able in for a landing. between my toes. I quickly ban- Trying to pull my left leg above but because I’m doing it so very
I find myself standing at a ish a very un-ballet childhood my shoulder, I feel like an over- badly. It’s like a funhouse mirror,
waist-high railing, known to image of my father showing off loaded plastic coat hanger about but instead of shrinking my face
dancers as the barre, where one his ability to pick things up with to snap. I might be about to kick or body, it makes my self-esteem
hand will rest while I bend at his feet. Maybe I’m only capable myself, but it would likely only smaller. I worry how much it’s
the knees in a plié and slowly of drawing with a crayon like a injure my self-image. distorting my self-view, or if it’s
wave my other arm. The fact that gorilla, instead of moving like a Jackie says I should feel very just revealing a lack of poise that
I need to hang on to something civilized male danseur. tall and graceful, held up by a was always there.
for this warm-up exercise does Jackie says to make my up- string in perfect posture. She For now, I need keep to keep
not bode well. Until now, down- per body a rectangle, perfectly reaches over her head and pulls my chin up, literally. I keep look-
town has meant drinks at the bar, aligned. Forgetting to hold my her invisible string with confi- ing down, but in ballet, you must
not pliés at the barre. shoulders back and my hips for- dent grace. present your best face to the
I count mysterious French ward, I look like a folded piece I’m held up by strings all world. Jackie encourages me
terms in my head as Jackie of paper. And that’s with two legs right, bouncing around like a to imagine myself and feel the
counts the beat. Tendu, change- on the ground — reaching one bad imitation of the marionettes proper movement rather than
ment — high school French did into the air is much harder. from “Team America.” I look looking to check it. Instead I jeal-
not prepare me for this, although A woman named Kimberly like a poorly operated puppet ously watch the other two in the
I know faux pas means false step, has just leapt off the professional compared to these real dancers. mirror, or else check out my own
and I’ve made a few of those stage into our class to make me Where are those 10-year-old legs, which move about as well as
already. Sensing my confusion, look bad. She’s a femme fatale, but girls from the lobby now? Maybe a statue’s. Maybe if I glare at them
Jackie describes the movements the only thing she’s killing is any I belong in their class. long enough they’ll perform bet-
in simple terms. confidence I’d built up as a dancer Kimberly and Jackie’s strings ter — my legs, not the other danc-
My arms should wrap around in the first few minutes of practice. seem to be working better than ers. They don’t need any help.
a beach ball in front of my chest She’s in time for stretches be- mine, and since they’re the only My knees are starting to worry
and my eyes and chin should float fore the next part of the lesson. ones in class, there’s no hiding me.Perhaps they’ll pop off and
above it. When my toe moves Her dance training is obvious, in the back row, making com- shatter the wall-length mirror,
across the floor in a semicircle, it and to rub it in, she fully ex- parisons to the perfect ballerina which for me should read,“Ob-
should follow the outline of a gi- tends one long, graceful leg so next to me all the easier. I check jects in mirror are clumsier than
ant orange slice: curved outside, high that her pointed toe nearly out my posture in the mirror but they appear.”
17
Choking down some embar-
rassment, I try to keep flexing
I struggle with a move that puts all
my weight on my buzzing knee. Day Two: the brick wall also keeps me
from the sight of my limbs flail-
and stretching to the music, but Now we’re trying the frappé, ing in the mirror.
halfway through the lesson, this which means “to strike.” More The Adult Later we’re in the center of the
statue just wants to stand still. blows to the image that ballet floor, doing turns in place on
Physically it’s a challenge, but
psychologically, it’s torture to
is frivolous. Swinging one heel
away from my standing leg,
Class one foot. I force myself to watch
my reflection as I try my first
try and fail at something for an back and forth, faster and faster, For my second class, I’m even more pirouette. We spin quarter turns,
hour. Still, every now and then I I get pretty close to kicking my- nervous, and I’m surprised to find then halves, then all the way
feel a flash of confidence when self in the ankle. In the mirror, that two of my six classmates are around. I’m supposed to find my
I do something right. I smile at a my face puckers and wrinkles men. Counting our instructor Rich- face in the mirror, but when it
compliment from Jackie — until I in anticipation of the blow. With ard, the room is split for gender — comes to the big spin, I find my-
realize she’s talking to my class- confidence, Kimberly strikes and I expected all tutus. self closing my eyes.
mate. Touché, Kimberly. with precision and speed, slic- Now it’s time for more running Richard explains the next chore-
We arabesque, backward, leaning ing the air with her foot — how and leaping: the grande jeté, the ography with a flurry of French
toward the rear with one arm while can I make my body do this? worst part so far. We run across instructions that would make
bending at the waist until I think I I realize that if I’m going to make the floor and leap on every third a UN interpreter’s head spin.
might stop breathing, permanent- it in ballet, I need to stop feeling step. I’m stopping and starting These translate into an even
ly. Now the torture is physical. bad about looking like an ama- with the syncopated step, awk- faster swirl of movement, and I
teur. But as we’re doing sit ups at wardly kicking my way across decide to sit the last dance out.
the end of class, it’s hard to stop the floor like a bad Russian Cos- As the class practices for their
feeling self-conscious as my sack dancer. My elbows are al- spring performance, I see more
basketball shorts bunch. Risqué, ready up — all I need is to fold of the work that goes into mak-
but in all the wrong ways. So my arms in and yell, “Hey! Hey! ing ballet look effortless. Frus-
that’s why they wear tights. Hey!” tration peeks out from behind
Some of the danc- their poker faces when they
ers are twice my make errors like my own. Sweat
glistens on the skin that isn’t hid-
age, and during
den by perfectly smooth pink
a break, they
and black dance clothes. Faces
talk about
flush with effort, and fingers ball
dedication.
into fists. Eyes roll as students
A few of the
criticize themselves.
women say This is the struggle of ballet, and
they danced beating myself up for my poor
when they start, I only scratched the surface.
were younger I watch as the female dancers
and came back lace up their pointe shoes for a
to it with their later lesson, with Richard correct-
daughters. ing their little mistakes and giving
Ballet is in advice. Ballet seems to be about
their blood. changing yourself in small ways
Richard the until you’re perfect. I wonder how
instructor is many lessons that would take.
showing me
how to move.
“You might want
to be careful with
Day Three:
this,” he tells me,
and then suddenly
It Takes Two
My final lesson is pas de deux,
My dance his leg pops up onto
or partnering. Before I can face
the barre. He says I
partner, don’t want to stretch
a partner on the floor, I need to
get over being distracted by my
Courteny, too far and “break
own shortcomings in the studio.
trusts me not my muscles.” Slow- The first two lessons brought
ly, carefully, I follow
to drop her the stretches.
some nasty insecurities to the
surface: I looked through the
during the Actually, they turn mirror in horror at my sapling-
pas de deux. out to be the easi- thin body, my chicken-bone
est and most enjoy- legs, my grace-free movements
Bad choice? able ballet exercise and my crooked, bemused smile as
I’ve tried. Facing I winced at it all. By now, I’m sure
 I’ve never been so
aware of my pelvis,
which I’d just
as soon not
think about Ballet student
Courteny is
poised, instructor

skeletally.
Richard is
practiced and I’m
possibly Punk’d
by these pictures

those little girls I saw on day one retrieved my outstretched leg. on and pushed the other way to the air, but actually, she’s just
in the studio lobby could dance After 45 minutes at the barre, I’m fight off gravity. getting a boost from me as she
circles around me. Ballet is not ready to let go for partner- I’m the barre and she’s the jumps. We bounce on our knees
harder than it looks, and it looks ing. I hang back and watch in dancer, bending forward and in sync, a little higher each time
pretty hard. awe as ballerinas jump into dan- back, pointing one leg forward until she leaps straight up and I
In the spirit of giving it one last seurs’ arms to sit nimbly on one and then behind in passé de- push her a bit farther with every
shot, I wear a ballet-appropriate male shoulder. veloppe, sweeping arms slow- muscle in my body. Legs push
V-neck shirt and hope I have the But Richard is there to introduce ing through ballet positions as I core, core pushes arms and,
chest hair to pull it off like a man. me to a few experienced balle- hold her up, finally feeling solid. somehow, arms manage to pass
This is the biggest class yet, and rinas who I’ll partner with. Cour- I catch a glimpse of our reflec- along a little help to Elena.
I’m smack in the middle. For teny stands en pointe, all her tion, but this time it’s less of a To my horror, it’s time to try a
each barre combination, we put weight on one tip-toe so that I funhouse-mirror image. I actu- running leap. Actual movement
our right hand on the barre, go can hold her waist and keep her ally look graceful with her. across the floor has been my
through the exercise, then switch from falling on her face. Now I’m doing vertical jumps weakest point in all of this, and
to the left to get equal practice Keeping a firm hold on her waist, with Elena. Standing behind now someone else is literally
on both sides of our body. May- I anticipate her movement and her with my arms at her waist, it in my hands. Will I stumble and
be that means only half the class push in the opposite direction looks like I’m throwing her into crash us through the window at
can see me half the time, and to keep her floating on one toe. the end of the studio?
given my form, I like those odds. Turns out it’s more like assisting Look at the fear in I don’t think my health insurance
I’m following a few moves be- than partnering. our eyes. covers ballet-related injuries.
hind, but that’s OK, because I I watch in admiration as she Again, it’s the syncopation of the
need to see the dancer in front of maintains perfect form with min- movement that flusters me.
me to copycat. The nearest two imal interference from me. These Step, step, quickstep, leap.
are guys, Gary and Charles, both ballerinas are the real deal — it’s Don’t think, just watch and fol-
of whom must have fewer bones like dancing in a painting. low. Richard and Elena are wait-
than me given their stretching It’s physically close but not per- ing, and I can’t put it off any
abilities. sonally awkward since these longer. He counts down and we
Richard is teaching again, and dancers are so professional. take a step, then another, faster
this time when my joints are I’m along for the ride with — and then she leaps through
screaming he gets my eternal them. the air and lands nimbly.
gratitude for making frequent I look in the mirror and we
stops so that we can stretch out. both appear unharmed. The
I watch in jealous amazement funhouse image is gone. Not
as Charles does a vertical split a tour de force, but mission ac-
in the studio door — the best I complished.
could do with that doorway was At the end of my lessons, I won-
avoid tripping through it. My jaw der if the embarrassment, like
may have dropped when I saw the physical pain, was just part
Gary fold not only his legs but of ballet, where the demand for
his chest down onto the floor into self-improvement is absolute.
what I like to call a triple split. I’ll I stumbled and bumbled but I
admit, I’ve tried it at home since, Finally I’m allowed to do what didn’t quit.
and I’ve never been so aware of I’ve been doing all along — Au contraire — I became a
my pelvis, which I’d just as soon watch the dancer closest to me ballerino for the few moments
not think about skeletally. for direction. Courteny laughs when I wasn’t scared to fall,
I did get one leg to split in the nervously when she feels her- and ballet earned my respect
lesson. Surprisingly, my man self leaning too far in one direc- as a challenging and reward-
meat was still packaged when I tion. A second later, I’ve caught ing form of art.* 19