At the end of every School of American Ballet summer intensive there comes a moment of reckoning. This is true for every dancer who sets foot in the studios. At this point every dancer is observed, evaluated and discussed so their potential futures can be determined. It’s a make it or break it kind of moment.
Of course it’s nothing personal…
The day arrived. The elegant and diminutive Ms. Nathalie Gleboff, the quietly stern executive director of the school (she was the last of the women of Russian background hired by George Balanchine and Lincoln Kirstein to run the school. Peter Martins said, “She did it humanely — with moral fiber and an iron fist.”) entered and crossed the room silently (in heels… she always wore heels, so how she did it silently was anyone’s guess) to take her rightful spot next to Madame Antonina Tumkovsky(known affectionately to her students as “Tumy”)
The two women appraised each student one by one, their heads bent together as they conversed in Russian.
Even though it was impossible to understand a single thing they were saying, it was glaringly (sometimes painfully) obvious exactly who was being scrutinized.
Ms. Gleboff was just in time to catch us in the middle of jumps. Her gaze was so intense and intimidating to my 13-year-old self that I immediately went in overdrive. Even though I worked hard every day, on that day I found reserves I didn’t know I had. Jumps had never been one of my strengths (I was tall for a dancer- and super-skinny in my teens) I caught a quick glimpse of my reflection in the mirrors lining the front of the studio and saw myself defying gravity, half a head above most of the group.
I could actually jump. It’s amazing what a healthy dose of fear-related adrenaline can do to a body.Who knew?
Whatever was discussed and decided between the two Russians was never directly related to me. It was all relayed in strictest confidence behind the closed door of Ms. Geleboff’s office to my Connecticut ballet teacher and mentor, Miss Wiley.
An eternity and a half later, Miss Wiley came out, shaking her head. My heart plummeted into my heels. Another eternity later her mouth twisted into a wry grin. “Well, they like you,” she said, “and they want you back next summer.”
My heart grew wings and fluttered back up to a level above where it normally sat.
Miss Wiley lead the way out. Several steps later she turned back to face me, a quizzical look on her face.“Oh yes, there was one more thing that surprised me. They say you can jump.”