Dance Damage Control

Like any kid, there are certain things that Thing 1 has committed to that she shows a very slight lack of commitment to. I’ll be somewhat cautious with the prelude to my point because she is a good kid; no, a great kid. When the stork dropped its bundle, it was not a rotten egg that rolled along our garden path and up to our front door. But like all teenagers, she can be a little obnoxious, a titchy bit ungrateful and, sometimes, ever so slightly lethargic. But, on the whole she is bright, intelligent, athletic and very polite and respectful to authority figures.

But when it comes to rehearsing the same acrobatic routine over and over and over again in preparation for a competition, she does struggle; you would too. Repeating trick after trick ad nausea and listing to the same song over and over and over. Whatever the case, she is good at what she does and she shows a level of skill, diligence and a dogged determination to perform that exceeds most, and equals the remainder of the peers in her class. 

How do I know? Because I am one of her teachers. Every class I watch her out of the corner of my eye and she is unaware that I do so. Every week I admire her resolve as, at the end of long and painful two hour sessions she still pushes out trick after trick. Meanwhile, the majority of the class have stopped tricking and started marking instead, which is to motion through the tricks theatrically rather than actually executing them.

So you can only imagine my disappointment and empathy for her when she begged me to withdraw her from her acrobatic competition solo less than an hour before she was due to go on. In this instance, there was no question that she had prepared herself adequately, but in the high stakes arena of dance this happens from time to time and the catalyst can sometimes remain a mystery.

I was at a loss; I did not know what I could do or say to make her want to go out on stage and smash all of her tricks. I needed help; I needed a deity or two. But who? Where? And with the clock counting down, when and how?

Like the Dunphy Dad I am, my first epiphany was to ply her with sugar, but it was on the way back from the Snack Bar (armed with Gatorade) that the solution presented itself in a splendour of rayon, lycra, glitter, hairspray, lipstick and false eyelashes. The Rybka Twins.

Perhaps the greatest young acrobats that the common man (me) is ever likely to get close enough to take a ‘selfie’ with. Thing 1 adores them and, as an ex-gymnast, so do I. Recently, both Sam and Teagan had accepted Thing 1’s facebook request which, these days, is akin to accepting someone in holy matrimony.

Taking Dunphism to the next level, I boldly requested a double selfie of the pair so that I could send it to my daughter to cheer her up. They conceded with all the grace and poise you would expect from teen ideals and dance professionals. With a complete lack of dignity and self respect I dragged my daughter into their private quarter in which they were warming up and they obliged us with more photos: the three girls together.

It did the trick. Thing 1 smashed her solo and nailed every trick. Though she did not place, a mark of the depth of talent in local dance, she was ecstatic. She had made the Rybka’s her anchor that evening and the commensurate rise in her spirit enabled her to perform at her best. Finalists on Australia's Got Talent, the twins are amazing and if you ever get the chance, do yourself a favour and watch them demonstrate the remarkable strength and flexibility that is achievable with commitment at the highest level.