The moment I walked in, I felt out of my element. I was overcome with nerves, could feel myself shaking, and began to doubt whether I belonged there. Everybody else at the audition appeared very professional and unlike me, most had performed in The Nutcracker before. As a dancer for over 10 years, I had been through many auditions, but none as challenging as this one. These dancers were a mix of professionals and the best students from all over Eastern Massachusetts. After signing in, I laced on my ballet shoes and began to stretch. Although I was not pressured by anyone but myself, I knew instinctively that this opportunity could be a turning point in my dancing career, and I was eager to take advantage of it. I looked around the waiting room, intimidated by the other girls.
When they called off the numbers 500, 501, 502, my eyes immediately jerked down toward the number pinned onto my leotard, as if to reassure myself that I hadn’t forgotten who I was. 500 girls had already gone before me and more were yet to come. I felt like a grain of sand on a vast beach. How would I be noticed or remembered? I began to feel the cold fingers of doubt closing around my stomach, and I fought back the familiar fear. I remembered clearly, moments before stepping on stage before my first solo performance, heart pounding, stomach clinching and then the first notes of the music broke the silence and something magical happened. The cold fear quickly melted into joy and exhilaration, and I began to perform fluidly and effortlessly, repeating to myself “This is what I live for.”
I awoke from my daze and realized I would only receive a role if I believed that I deserved one. I walked into the studio poised, and stood tall in my place, studying the teacher as she demonstrated the combination. She counted aloud indifferently, for the several hundredth time that day. After a short time, she stepped off the dance floor and cued the pianist. She counted us in “5, 6, 7, 8…” and before I knew it, we were expected to imitate the teacher exactly, performing the combination for the first time. To my surprise, my body recalled the movements better than my mind did. While performing a second time, my confidence grew and I smiled and focused my attention on the panel of officials. They sat in the front of the big room behind a long table, scrutinizing the dancers, and furiously scribbling away on legal pads never once taking their eyes off of us. The audition proceeded and was over before I knew it. Leaving the studio, I marveled at the magical transformative power of ballet. In the same way the wooden Nutcracker doll becomes a full of life, grown being, ballet had transformed me from a scared little girl into a confident, smiling young woman.