How Rude!

This was my feeling after the weekend dance recital. Let me clarify--my dance recital. It was also my daughter's recital. I guess we should call it our dance recital. But still, I want to go all Stephanie Tanner on the audience.

Let me set the stage (see what I did there?):

We dance at a decent-sized family run studio. I've been with this studio since I was 5. The people there are like my family, and my dance girls are my crew. Many of us have children now dancing as well, and it's fantastic to see the next generation rising up. The studio is non-competitive. We don't have teams and there's a welcoming atmosphere. The studio is inclusive, including all shapes, sizes, and abilities. While we strive to do our best, it's certainly not a Dance Moms atmosphere, and I don't think any of us are auditioning for So You Think You Can Dance? That's not why we're there. We're there because we love to dance.

Week after week, parents schlep their kids in and out. Lesson after lesson, rehearsal after rehearsal, all working up toward our end of the year recital. In the interest of keeping a manageable length show (2 hours or less), we perform over two days. Some of the numbers are the same, but for most of the younger kids (ages 12 and under), they are only in one day. It's not a big commitment. About the same as a baseball game. I have a friend whose two sons play ball in school, rec, and travel teams. Not exaggerating, her family will have close to 100 baseball games this year. That's about 200 hours, not including travel time and practice time. So asking family and friends to sit for two hours once doesn't seem like a lot.

But apparently, it was too much for most people. We opened with a fun production number including 25-30 students from ages 9 to well, adult (my class). It was to Time Warp. Who in their right mind can't help but tap their toes to that? Let me give you a guess--the entire audience. We often joke that the audience doesn't appreciate the hard steps we're doing but will applaud for the easiest thing. That's usually true, except for this year. The audience gave minimal, obligatory applause at the end of the dances. No encouragement. No clapping. No laughter. No NOTHING during the dances. It didn't matter if it was adorable three-year-old in tutus, or a handsome 6 year-old boy tap dancing to My Boyfriend's Back, the most moving lyrical dance, or a pointe dance to Walk This Way. FYI, do you know how hard it is to do a pointe dance to Walk This Way? For this 42 year-old, it was HARD. But I did it. 

And the audience did nothing.

Actually, that's a lie. They did a lot. There was a lot of talking to neighbors. So much so that it interfered with people watching the show. There were quite a few people on their phones. You see, the house lights weren't as dim as they should have been, so as we were out on stage, dancing our hearts out, we could see. See that the audience didn't care. We could see the people standing up and walking around during our dance. Did you know when you stand up, the people behind you can't see? Did you know that even if you don't care, they may want to see who is dancing up on stage? 

I understand that some of the numbers weren't terrific. I understand that it wasn't like seeing the people dance on TV. Much like watching a Little League game is nothing like watching the Red Sox. The growth and improvement in these kids over the course of a year is incredible, and there's something hugely rewarding about watching little kids grow up and blossom into beautiful dancers.  Every single student on stage poured their hearts out, and the audience was too involved in their phones and conversations and snacks to care. 

It makes it hard to get out there when you get nothing back from the audience. I get that dance may not be your thing, but show some respect people. Respect the teachers who worked countless hours to teach your child and bring out their best. Respect the studio who wants nothing but to see your child shine. And for the love of God, show some respect to the students--all the students, not just your own-- who are out there dancing their hearts out for you. 

Here's the take home message for anyone attending a dance recital (or concert or game or play or any event in which people, but especially kids, are out there, doing their best to entertain you):

How to Be Present in the Moment:

Sit down

Shut up

Put your phone away

Show your appreciation of all the hard work

Frankly, that's probably good advice for most things.