*Note*
This is a memoir that I had to write for my English 101 class. I had a hard time coming up with a topic, but once the event described in this essay, occurred I knew that I had to put it into words. As much as I hate the woman I describe in this memoir, I have to thank her for giving me something to write about. The names of the people and places in this narrative have been changed to protect the identity of those involved.
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Dance has been a critical aspect of my life since I was six years old. After failing miserably at gymnastics, I asked my mom to sign me up for dance classes right away, and I have been in love with it ever since. Dance allows me to express myself in ways I never thought possible. There are times that I see the studio as my second home. Through my years of dancing I have been able to build on my confidence, technique, friendship and trust in others. Recent events have forced me to revise the last lesson I learned; trust. An incident involving my dance teacher of two and a half years has led me to believe that you can’t trust everyone and that everyone is not as they seem. This event has not only changed my own life, but the lives of everyone I care about at Mary Ida's Dance Academy.
It was a typical Monday morning; October 12, to be exact. I got up, got dressed, went to my classes; nothing seemed different or out of the ordinary. Little did I know that my life was going to change drastically the moment I stepped into my third period class. At first everything seemed normal. The scent of cinnamon drifted into my nose as I took my seat. I smiled to myself, thinking, Mrs. Majewski must have gotten a new air freshener. It smells nice. Not long after that thought left my mind, my teacher Mrs. Majewski asked my friend Debra and I about our dance instructor whom she went to school with. According to her Facebook status, she was no longer affiliated with Mary Ida's. My first reaction was shock, followed by multitudes of questions racing through my mind. These were the types of questions that I had no hope of answering by myself. Debra and I told our teacher, still in shock, that we had no idea what was going on and that we would find out that night.
I was in shock for the rest of the day. I found that I could barely function in the classes that followed English 101. Mr. Holmes asked us to write about our feelings in Creative Writing, I wrote shocked and confused among other things. The day dragged on and on. I found myself looking at the clock more than I usually did, wanting the day to end more than ever…anything to discover the truth behind what I had learned that day.
Anxiety consumed me when I entered my home. I made my way down to the basement to see her status for myself. She’s threatened to leave various times, but she was just over exaggerating. None of us took her seriously when she said that the other times, but this was different. My hands seemed to be shaking as I typed my e-mail and password into Facebook. I looked up her name on my friends list. She wasn’t there. At first I thought there was something wrong with my computer, so I looked up her profile page and added her again. She accepted. That’s weird, I thought. I was anxious to get to dance, but I had an hour before I had to leave.
My heart was racing a thousand times a minute as I drove to Mirror Image. As I pulled into the parking lot, I found myself hoping and praying that what Mrs. Majewski had told me earlier that day wasn’t true. I looked for her car which was always recognizable by the “MIDA COACH” bumper sticker on the back window. It wasn’t there. My heart beat sped up as I walked into the building. The atmosphere inside the studio was strange and a little off. Not how it usually was. Everything was solemn and quiet. The receptionist didn’t even greet me as I came in. I frowned. Mrs. Neumann always said hello to me as I walked in. What was going on? It was much worse than I thought, it seemed.
I found myself pacing around the dance studio, unsure what to do. Those multitudes of questions that had raced through my head earlier came back. What had happened? Why did she leave? Is it something we did? Anger was another emotion that overwhelmed me as I contemplated these thoughts. How could she? She promised! She promised that she wouldn’t leave us! Why? My friend Makenna eventually arrived at the studio, so I immediately went to talk to her to see what she thought.
“I still can’t believe it,” I told her. “Everything’s going to change now that she’s gone.”
“What are you talking about?” Makenna asked.
“You didn’t hear? She’s gone…and she’s not coming back.”
“What? Why?”
My friend Ashley was standing nearby, crying. “I don’t know.” She sobbed.
It appeared that I was to be the messenger of bad news that day. I was the one to tell Pam and Mia what had occurred as they, like Makenna, hadn’t heard. Everyone was talking about the incident in the hallway, all in shock like I had been all day. We couldn’t stay like that forever, though. We had a class to attend. Tap class was…awkward to say the least. She wasn’t there for one thing. We had a substitute teacher, Lucy. She could sense the tension amongst us. You would’ve had to be blind not to see it. We still had to dance, though. Our parents didn’t pay money for us to stand around and stare into space.
I didn’t feel the urge to dance like I normally did. I’m usually excited and happy when I’m taking classes.
“I don’t feel like dancing,” I commented to Makenna. “I feel…empty. Like something’s missing.”
“I know,” she replied. “Like Bella when Edward left. There’s a hole in my chest.”
I briefly smiled at the Twilight reference. It seemed to lighten the mood, if only a little.
Everyone felt as we did. You could see it in their faces. We were usually an excitable, bubbly group. Cracking jokes any time we could get. Now we felt like an assortment of abandoned children wondering where their mother had gone and why she had left in the first place. We wanted answers, but we wouldn’t receive them until the next two classes.
Classes did not continue as normal for the rest of the night. Dana, the studio owner, talked to all of us present from the senior performing company. She told us that she had to fire our teacher…that things had gone too far. My friend Jacey’s near expulsion from the competition team was the icing on top of the cake, as Dana said it. Everyone was crying. Jacey and Emma and holding each other and crying as were Abby and Ashely. Makenna, Pam, and Mia were still sitting in shock, I with them as I felt several tears roll down my face. Dana’s husband Dan came in to comfort us. He told us that this was for the best of the studio and us. Things were going to change but they would be for the better.
Many of us didn’t agree with that statement. How could they say that? We were actually getting somewhere with her as our teacher! We’ve improved more with her than we have with any other teacher who’s ever taught here! What was your reasoning behind firing her, Dee? Was it seriously that bad? These were many of the questions that were racing through our minds after she told us. Some of us were angry, some sad, and some even happy. All of our emotions were about to be put into order as Dee called a meeting for all students and parents.
I felt horrible for my friend Jamie who arrived late to class that day. She had no idea what was going on. I, once again, had to be the messenger of bad news. Her eyes widened as I told her. Why? Her eyes asked me. “That’s what we’re going to find out.” I told her.
Dana proceeded to tell us that she had to let one of our teachers go. Her reasons, she felt, were justified and she felt that everyone had the right to know what this teacher had done. She told us that she couldn’t take this woman hurting us anymore. She had talked about us behind our backs to other students, had many favorites, fabricated her accomplishments, and told us horrible lies about other teachers. I felt awful about myself. I still can’t believe that I let myself be drawn into her web. I think we all did. We felt used, manipulated, and most of all, betrayed. We counted her as one of own once. She was party of our family, and we loved her. She twisted that love around and turned it into something else. Poison is probably the best word to use. Her presence in our lives had caused a rift in our friendships. When she played favorites, those of us who weren’t a favorite isolated ourselves from the others. Those people we once laughed and joked around with became our enemies. They were those we had to fight against to win her favor. Even though she’s been gone for over three months, her presence still lingers. Our team was once whole. Now we are broken into fragments; little pieces of what we once were. I see it, Jamie sees it, Jacey sees it. The others don’t. They still revere her like a goddess, worshiping her by practicing the choreography she taught them in secret, despite the fact that some of it was stolen from others. They don’t care. They see themselves as the only true believers and it is only we who have lost faith.
Jamie is adamant in her beliefs. She is thrilled that she is gone, and thinking about what this woman did and said to her, I don’t blame her. Even Jacey is cheerful, despite being a former favorite of her. Myself, I still don’t know what to think. There was a time in my life that I strongly considered quitting dance because of her. The things she did and said to my friends and I was almost too much to bear. If I had left, I could have saved myself months of pain and anguish. I was conflicted though. I didn’t want to leave, not really. I wouldn’t abandon my friends like she abandoned us. I wouldn’t allow myself to stoop to her level. In the end, I stayed…and endured. Sometimes I wonder if I made the right choice by staying. Was it worth it to take every beating and insult she threw at us, just so we could cry and comfort each other that everything would be okay? All because we were convinced that she would make us better dancers? I don’t know. I don’t suppose I ever will know. One thing is for sure, though. Her presence in our lives has left a wound…a wound that will be difficult, maybe even impossible to heal. Shards of our broken souls are scattered all over the studio, and only we are left to pick up the pieces.
