There are many joys in working at an independent school. One of them has to do with serendipity -- one never knows when a treasured moment will occur.
A local ballet troupe uses our stage a couple of times each year and while I never can remember when it is that they are coming, I always know when they have arrived. I walked over to another division today and the lobby in front of the auditorium was full of slender girls in poses that no one else I know could assume. With their tights and their buns, they were captivating. It took me back to my childhood when a book, Ballet Shoes, by Noel Streatfield captivated me. I read it over and over and over, wishing that I could take ballet lessons.
Coming out of the cafeteria after lunch, I passed a group of middle school boys sitting on the floor, engrossed in conversation:
First Boy: It's some ballet, I think. I don't get it. I don't get ballet.
Second Boy: Me neither. It's weird.
Third Boy: Oh, I do. I like ballet. Except that they are on their toes all the time. But other than that, I like ballet.
I don't ever want to work anywhere else.
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