Personal Narrative: My First Saturday In Dance

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I have been dancing for as long as I can remember. Of course, I don’t actually remember the first time I performed on stage, but my mom has pictures of me in a pink leotard and a grass hula skirt for proof. The first time I remember dancing was when I was around five years old, in tap class, learning a move called the coffee grinder. I remember looking in the mirrors as I swung my leg around and jaggedly jumped over it multiple times before I could get the move down. I felt super proud of myself when I was the first one in my class to master the move, well the best a five year old can master a move. My memories of dance have grown since then.

I remember the first time I set my eyes on pointe shoes. I was ten and I was having my first Saturday
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When I was thirteen, I faced my first challenge. My jazz class was learning the routine for the spring recital when our teacher choreographed a move that I did not even know could be accomplished. It was a partner move. I had to do a handstand against my partner’s back and my partner would catch my legs up by her head. She would then let go of one of my legs, so I would be making a split in the air. This move was the most difficult move I had faced and we still could not get this move consistent when there were only a few days until the show. Determined, my partner and I practiced this move for hours. Afterwards we finally had our move down. We were proud to show the routine, and out partner move, to the full house, without fail.

In dance, dreams can become a reality. I was fourteen when my ballet teacher allowed me to get my first pair of pointe shoes. I was ecstatic. My mom drove me to the dancewear store. There, I went up on my boxes for the first time. As I stepped up onto the flat part of the shoe, I understood what the advanced dancer told me all those years ago, pointe shoes are painful. But, this was a dream I have had forever, and I was willing to dance through the

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