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lagilmanGiven a Chance to Be Little Ballerinas, and Smiling Right Down to Their Toes
By COREY KILGANNON
Published: May 5, 2006
http://www.nytimes.com/2006/05/05/nyregion/05ballet.html?ex=1146974400&en=b46f15548ef9083e&ei=5087%0A
(reprinted here under the cut, with full knowledge that I'm a bad, bad, copyright-defiling kid, but, damn it, people should read this, okay?)
With its practice bar, mirrored walls and lush orchestral music, the small dance studio in Bayside, Queens, seems like countless other ballet schools that nurture the dreams of little girls. Parents peek in from a crowded waiting room as a patient teacher demonstrates first-position to little girls proud simply to be wearing tights, tutus and ballet slippers.
But this studio holds one special class a week for dancers whose movements do not exactly exhibit the refined control of a prima ballerina. There are no lithe leaps, perfect pirouettes or pointed toes here. Most girls cannot walk or stand, much less make a shallow curtsy. Their crutches and walkers lie nearby and their customized ballet slippers are stretched over leg braces.
The eight little ballet students, who have cerebral palsy and other debilitating physical conditions, are assisted in class by teenage volunteers with strong healthy bodies and infinite patience. The teacher is Joann Ferrara, a physical therapist who owns and runs Associated Therapies, where most of the girls go for treatment.
Even at a tender age — the girls range from 3 to 7 — they grasp that they will never romp in a playground or flip onto a gym mat, let alone play hopscotch, tag or hide-and-seek. But being little girls, they are not immune to the dream of being a glamorous ballerina swathed in frilly pink, gliding gloriously on a stage in front of everyone.
"Every little girl wants to be a ballerina, and my daughter wanted to know why she couldn't," said Maria Siaba, whose daughter Veronica, 7, is in the class. "I would bring her into a ballet school and they said, 'We can't accommodate her.' Outside, I'd have to explain to her that she couldn't do what all the other girls are doing."
For an hour a week, Veronica and seven other girls from Queens escape a world plagued by awkward physical motion and enter a room where elegant music is played and they get a taste of movement that is graceful, smooth, supple and refined. Ms. Ferrara teaches only the basics of ballet. The girls do not perform full pliés or pirouettes, and they are lifted for leaps. While she coaches the girls to lower and raise themselves and turn slowly, Ms. Ferrara constantly reminds them to smile and "be proud."
And even if the limbs do not obey, the dancers have absorbed the traditional ballet ethic of disciplined hard work. One day all too soon, they will leave their ballet lessons behind and will work simply to stand or walk or move without being too ungainly.
"I just want them to feel the sheer joy of moving and to be proud of themselves," Ms. Ferrara said. She began the dance class three years ago after hearing repeated laments from the families of girls she treated. "The parents all said their daughters wanted to take ballet like all the other girls, but no ballet schools would accept them," she said.
She recruited a group of teenagers to assist the dancers and paired them up. Most pairs have been together ever since. When Monica Chaffardet, 5, began the class, her left side was so weak that she was barely able to use a walker. Heather O'Halleran, 16, of Flushing, has been so persistent with her that Monica is just about ready to stand with the use of a cane, and doctors hope that she will walk one day without any help.
"She's dying to walk," Ms. Ferrara whispered the other day in class as Monica danced to her favorite ballet, "The Nutcracker."
Monica's mother, Joann Chaffardet, said: "She'll never be a prima ballerina. This isn't about that. She just wants to be like everyone else. She doesn't see the difference. When she saw her cousin, who's the same age, taking ballet, she kept saying she wanted to do it, too, but the schools said it was an insurance risk to take her.
"We all know these girls are different, but this is to help them get up there and be like the other girls. Even if for a short time, they're up there feeling like real ballerinas."
Sophia Clarke, whose daughter Jessica is a student, said the class had helped Jessica's self-esteem. "I never thought I'd say, 'I'm taking my daughter to ballet class,' " she said. "I could never put her in a regular class because she falls easily and no one has the patience for her."
The girls had their annual recital last Sunday in the auditorium of the Mary Louis Academy in Jamaica Estates. Backstage, assistants were pulling ballet slippers over the bulky plastic sheathing and hinges of leg braces, and helping the girls put on white tights and pink tutus. Pink fuzzy tiaras were adjusted and pink tambourines and fairy wands were distributed. The dancers were bursting with excitement as they checked their makeup and hair in the mirror.
Monica resolved that during the recital she would try to stand for the first time in front of her dad, John Chaffardet, who was in the audience.
Veronica sat in the lap of her helper, Christina Arfsten, 16, of Flushing, and said her favorite ballet was "Swan Lake" because "it's about a girl who works very hard and never, ever gives up."
She continued: "Ballet made me realize I can still do stuff that other kids can do. It's a great opportunity to do something new and keep trying and realize you can do something you thought you couldn't do. Even if you feel scared, it's the same for anything: If you don't try, you'll never know what you can do."
The recital show, called "Wishes and Dreams," featured the dancers of Associated Therapies performing to excerpts from "Swan Lake" and "The Nutcracker." The girls stood in a line onstage, supported by their assistants behind them, lifting and turning them to the music.
The audience included some of Ms. Ferrara's other patients, who watched proudly and shed tears of pride, not pity. For the finale, "When You Wish Upon a Star," the dancers held shiny paper stars. When the music stopped, Jessica held hers aloft and yelled, "Yea, we did it."
The audience bathed the girls in cheers as Ms. Ferrara handed each ballerina a red rose. Monica held her rose in one hand and used the other to steady herself with her ribbon-wrapped cane. Heather gently released her and beamed as she stood by herself, held up by applause and her father's quivering smile.
By COREY KILGANNON
Published: May 5, 2006
http://www.nytimes.com/2006/05/05/nyregion/05ballet.html?ex=1146974400&en=b46f15548ef9083e&ei=5087%0A
(reprinted here under the cut, with full knowledge that I'm a bad, bad, copyright-defiling kid, but, damn it, people should read this, okay?)
With its practice bar, mirrored walls and lush orchestral music, the small dance studio in Bayside, Queens, seems like countless other ballet schools that nurture the dreams of little girls. Parents peek in from a crowded waiting room as a patient teacher demonstrates first-position to little girls proud simply to be wearing tights, tutus and ballet slippers.
But this studio holds one special class a week for dancers whose movements do not exactly exhibit the refined control of a prima ballerina. There are no lithe leaps, perfect pirouettes or pointed toes here. Most girls cannot walk or stand, much less make a shallow curtsy. Their crutches and walkers lie nearby and their customized ballet slippers are stretched over leg braces.
The eight little ballet students, who have cerebral palsy and other debilitating physical conditions, are assisted in class by teenage volunteers with strong healthy bodies and infinite patience. The teacher is Joann Ferrara, a physical therapist who owns and runs Associated Therapies, where most of the girls go for treatment.
Even at a tender age — the girls range from 3 to 7 — they grasp that they will never romp in a playground or flip onto a gym mat, let alone play hopscotch, tag or hide-and-seek. But being little girls, they are not immune to the dream of being a glamorous ballerina swathed in frilly pink, gliding gloriously on a stage in front of everyone.
"Every little girl wants to be a ballerina, and my daughter wanted to know why she couldn't," said Maria Siaba, whose daughter Veronica, 7, is in the class. "I would bring her into a ballet school and they said, 'We can't accommodate her.' Outside, I'd have to explain to her that she couldn't do what all the other girls are doing."
For an hour a week, Veronica and seven other girls from Queens escape a world plagued by awkward physical motion and enter a room where elegant music is played and they get a taste of movement that is graceful, smooth, supple and refined. Ms. Ferrara teaches only the basics of ballet. The girls do not perform full pliés or pirouettes, and they are lifted for leaps. While she coaches the girls to lower and raise themselves and turn slowly, Ms. Ferrara constantly reminds them to smile and "be proud."
And even if the limbs do not obey, the dancers have absorbed the traditional ballet ethic of disciplined hard work. One day all too soon, they will leave their ballet lessons behind and will work simply to stand or walk or move without being too ungainly.
"I just want them to feel the sheer joy of moving and to be proud of themselves," Ms. Ferrara said. She began the dance class three years ago after hearing repeated laments from the families of girls she treated. "The parents all said their daughters wanted to take ballet like all the other girls, but no ballet schools would accept them," she said.
She recruited a group of teenagers to assist the dancers and paired them up. Most pairs have been together ever since. When Monica Chaffardet, 5, began the class, her left side was so weak that she was barely able to use a walker. Heather O'Halleran, 16, of Flushing, has been so persistent with her that Monica is just about ready to stand with the use of a cane, and doctors hope that she will walk one day without any help.
"She's dying to walk," Ms. Ferrara whispered the other day in class as Monica danced to her favorite ballet, "The Nutcracker."
Monica's mother, Joann Chaffardet, said: "She'll never be a prima ballerina. This isn't about that. She just wants to be like everyone else. She doesn't see the difference. When she saw her cousin, who's the same age, taking ballet, she kept saying she wanted to do it, too, but the schools said it was an insurance risk to take her.
"We all know these girls are different, but this is to help them get up there and be like the other girls. Even if for a short time, they're up there feeling like real ballerinas."
Sophia Clarke, whose daughter Jessica is a student, said the class had helped Jessica's self-esteem. "I never thought I'd say, 'I'm taking my daughter to ballet class,' " she said. "I could never put her in a regular class because she falls easily and no one has the patience for her."
The girls had their annual recital last Sunday in the auditorium of the Mary Louis Academy in Jamaica Estates. Backstage, assistants were pulling ballet slippers over the bulky plastic sheathing and hinges of leg braces, and helping the girls put on white tights and pink tutus. Pink fuzzy tiaras were adjusted and pink tambourines and fairy wands were distributed. The dancers were bursting with excitement as they checked their makeup and hair in the mirror.
Monica resolved that during the recital she would try to stand for the first time in front of her dad, John Chaffardet, who was in the audience.
Veronica sat in the lap of her helper, Christina Arfsten, 16, of Flushing, and said her favorite ballet was "Swan Lake" because "it's about a girl who works very hard and never, ever gives up."
She continued: "Ballet made me realize I can still do stuff that other kids can do. It's a great opportunity to do something new and keep trying and realize you can do something you thought you couldn't do. Even if you feel scared, it's the same for anything: If you don't try, you'll never know what you can do."
The recital show, called "Wishes and Dreams," featured the dancers of Associated Therapies performing to excerpts from "Swan Lake" and "The Nutcracker." The girls stood in a line onstage, supported by their assistants behind them, lifting and turning them to the music.
The audience included some of Ms. Ferrara's other patients, who watched proudly and shed tears of pride, not pity. For the finale, "When You Wish Upon a Star," the dancers held shiny paper stars. When the music stopped, Jessica held hers aloft and yelled, "Yea, we did it."
The audience bathed the girls in cheers as Ms. Ferrara handed each ballerina a red rose. Monica held her rose in one hand and used the other to steady herself with her ribbon-wrapped cane. Heather gently released her and beamed as she stood by herself, held up by applause and her father's quivering smile.
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no subject
Date: 2006-05-05 05:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-05 05:55 pm (UTC)I am a tough ex-Navy submariner...I am mush.
Thank you for sharing.
-=Jeff=-
no subject
Date: 2006-05-05 06:15 pm (UTC)And I think what was the most important thing that I learned--it's not that I didn't know it before in theory, it's just that I really *knew* it when I left--was that these were kids who, on the inside, were just like any other kid. I remember being a sidewalker with a girl with Down's Syndrome, and teasing my best friend's boyfriend who was leadlining the horse, and having the girl get the jokes before the boyfriend did. And it's sort of stupid writing this now, but at the time I think it was one of the best lessons I had about not judging people by how they looked.
(in a side note: one of the things I remember being most amazed at was that the horse I rode ever week seemed to have a personality transplant when it came time for the HRA lessons. She'd go from a cranky bitch who'd fight me for an hour every lesson to a perfect horse you could have dropped a bomb next to without her flinching. Granted, some of it was that *I* made her do turns on the forehand and canter on her bad leg and all sorts of evil things, whereas with the kids she just walked slowly around in a circle, but I don't think that was all of it. I think all the horses just knew they had to be careful.)
no subject
Date: 2006-05-05 08:13 pm (UTC)That sounds like an excellent program. And this ballerina one is inspiring, too. We talked a little in class about disabilities during our musculoskeletal sections, and learned the science behind the importance of moving and training not-perfectly-functional-limbs. I kept thinking about a girl I knew who did competitive swimming a few years ago - I billeted once at her house and always saw her at meets. She was blind, and her parents would stand on each end of the pool and tap her lightly on the head with a padded stick when she neared the edge: it was her signal to turn. I was so amazed at both her and her parents determination to have a more 'normal life': she wanted to swim so she did. But she never could have done it without her parents help, and so many kids don't have that kind of support (or all sorts of different reasons).
These other programs are wonderful ways in which children with physical diabilities can learn to do something a little more 'normal' and I wish they were more widespread.
no subject
Date: 2006-05-05 06:52 pm (UTC)But it's nice for them, having the choice.
no subject
Date: 2006-05-05 06:59 pm (UTC)After all, most little girls (myself included) take one year of ballet at most, then flee, to their prents' relief.
oh, right...
Date: 2006-05-05 07:37 pm (UTC)and yeah, stuff that's driven by our interests is all too rare when you ride the short bus.
no subject
Date: 2006-05-05 09:47 pm (UTC)That's a brilliant article. Brilliant. All those people are brilliant. God bless them, every one.
no subject
Date: 2006-05-05 07:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-05 07:12 pm (UTC)::teary eyed:: good for them!
no subject
Date: 2006-05-05 08:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-06 07:48 am (UTC)Oh, and all the best for the Revlon Run Walk Thingie later today -- just remembered to get my pledge in in the nick of time! (posted in the wee small hours of Saturday 05/06/06)
HLC
no subject
Date: 2006-05-06 11:58 pm (UTC)It was wonderful.
Thank you for sharing the article.
no subject
Date: 2006-05-07 06:42 am (UTC)I would have made a terrible prima -- I was a 36C at eleven -- but we all had those ballerina hopes, once. I remember watching my youngest sister's recital. She was heavy even then -- but she floated out and did her part. I hope that gives her hope on the bad days of life. I believed she could float...