The Letter of Acceptance from the School of American Ballet

As usual, I got home from school, and picked up the mail.
Thumbing through it … I stop. There is a letter for me!
I instantly notice that the return address is from the School of American Ballet!
The envelope is made out of high-quality paper and feels heavier than the regular mail.

I can barely contain my excitement.
After many years of auditioning for the Ford Foundation Scholarships, I had never received a letter in the mail from them. After all, there is never a need to send a rejection letter to students … only acceptance letters!
Oh My!
I am not breathing, and I notice my hands start shaking. It is addressed to me. Should I open it? Or should I wait till my parents get home?
Excited and terrified, I throw caution to the wind, and I tear it open without a second thought!
It is addressed to me after all!
I can barely think straight as I unfold the piece of paper gingerly, wanting to see if this letter could be that illusive opening that I have longed for to go to New York City for the Summer Scholarships Program.
The letter begins with:

Dear Suzanne:

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to the Summer Program at the School of American Ballet on Full Scholarship…..

I can’t read anymore because I am crying.
Stunned! I realize that I have finally gotten into SAB (The School of American Ballet), one of the top schools in the country! And on a Full Scholarship!
After all the hardships and struggles, after all the auditions and failures, after failing to get into SAB last year because my sister threw me down the stairs in a fit of jealousy, right before the audition for SAB and having a swollen foot that was so badly sprained, that I could barely put a point shoe on. After going to Richmond Virginia (instead of SAB), to their  summer ballet program and choreographic conference and tearing the meniscus in my right knee from trying to please the teacher Maria Tallchief, (a well renowned principal dancer and American Indian Ballerina).
After feeling so lost and miserable, wondering if I would ever be good enough or if I would ever fit in.
I take a breath and take another look at this beautiful white piece of paper, and gaze at it as if it is a golden ticket that lies in my hands.

A letter of acceptance to SAB … Finally!
It is my magic carpet to another life and another reality. It is the first big step to my dream!
I think of all the prayers that I fervently asked for from God and my angels. All I had asked for … was just a chance to try. If someone would just give me a chance, I promised I would work hard and do my very best.
I had begged and pleaded with God and the angels for years.
I knew I had potential, but potential must be shaped and molded by those wiser than ourselves.
I knew enough to know that I did not know what I needed to become a better dancer.
But I knew that I needed teachers to believe in me.
Colleen Neary, had been the adjudicator at the auditions for SAB. She was a soloist from New York City Ballet. She and her sister (Patricia) were mentors that I looked up too because they were both tall and exceptions to the rules of height in ballet, in my generation.
Colleen and Patricia Neary had become renowned at New York City Ballet for their height, long legs, and their powerful leaps and jumps. They showed me that it could be done and that to be a tall female dancer, one had to be as strong as the men … in jumping and lightening quick even with these long colt-like gangly legs of mine.
At the audition, I looked at the long lines and sinewed muscles of Colleen Neary in awe. I wanted to be like her. I knew I could be like her!
During the audition she seemed to look in my direction a lot. That was a good thing. She seemed kind and her eyes sparkled as she gave us exercises to try.
During this audition, I had been more determined than ever. And I thought I had done well in the audition. I felt confident but cautious. After all, the other auditions had ended in failure. It is difficult to get only rejections at such a young age. Such a thing either strengthens your resolve or breaks you down. I was determined to be the former.
It was clear that ballet was not for the weak.
Even then I knew that only the strong survive.
And often … even the strong cannot take the pounding pressure of a ballet career.
I had already (at my young age) seen, extremely talented dancers on the physical level, not have the strength mentally to survive the constant competition and performing pressure.
I had seen, super determined dancers that mentally were able to mold their body with their mind, only have the body break under the pressure.
I knew the fates were very fickle. But something inside knew I could do it … given the chance.

And there it was, on a piece of paper. That chance!
My chance!
And I was bound and determined to take this chance. No moment would be squandered from this point forward.
I knew my father was not going to be pleased.
The only thing working in my favor is his Irish/German background that could not turn down free food, free schooling, or any gift horse.
“Free is … Free!” He would always say.
But I knew he would try to discourage me. That was what he had been doing since I was 11 years old. My drive to dance had only increased in its intensity and desire since then. Much to his chagrin.
I thought about the long arguments where he said, “Do you know how many little girls want to become professional ballet dancers and how many really make it?”

And his latest argument, “Do you realize that there are only 622 professional ballet dancers that list that as their occupation on their federal taxes? Out of the tens of thousands of little girls dreaming to be one, the number of available jobs is next to nothing. And how long does such a career last anyway? Eventually you are going to have to go back to school, get a real degree and get a real job! You are going to have to pull your head out of those clouds! And starting over when you are older is going to be very difficult! Why can’t you see that this is a ridiculous dream!”
But his argument could not sway the deep feeling in my heart.
That knowing had been there from that first moment seeing, Bruce Marks and Toni Lander dance the Moor’s Pavane when I was 5 years old.
That performance ignited something inside me … that at my young age, I could not clearly explain to either of my parents. But my mother could feel that dream bursting inside me. She would stand beside me in this life and give me the opportunity that her parents never gave her. For that I have been eternally grateful.
There was never a doubt that I could be a professional ballet dancer. I knew I was talented enough to have a chance. Not as talented as so many I saw. But I had something they did not have. That was a determination that was so fierce that its force coming out my body astounded even me.
My inner determination was more like that of a Kung Fu Warrior on a battlefield than a delicate ballet dancer. That determination felt very old, tested, and capable.
It felt stronger than my child mind, or my current age. It noticed things already that were beyond the kids my age group.
I knew even then that I looked out at a world with different eyes. I knew, I saw the world differently than other kids. And I knew that such a thing could give me an edge to succeed.
I had heard over and over again, a voice in my head that said, “If one wants to play a game, one needs to be aware what game one is playing.”

It never hurts to be a bit more on the ball and more aware than others.
I lay the paper down and smooth the folds with my hands, gently caressing the high quality paper and marveling as the raised School of American Ballet logo.
Then my mind starts to strategize my next move.
After all, my father is not going to want to allow me to go.
Even though he is a Brooklynn born and raised man. There is something about New York City, that has left a bad taste in his mouth.
I had overheard him saying to someone who had asked him why he came to Texas. He replied, “Happiness … was New York City in my rear-view mirror!”
He wanted to leave New York City.

I wanted to go!

I knew that was going to be only the first of many problems.

That was why I was going to have to corner him in allowing me to go. And that was going to require lots of external pressures.

My mind is reeling. What is the first step?
What and who would put pressure on him … to let me go?
The fact that it was free, (or mostly free) was good. But the scholarship just paid for room and board at the school. That meant that I was going to have to have a plane ticket and point shoes! I was going to need extra money for food and small items while I was there.
He would not want to pay for that.
He thought this whole thing was frivolous.
I called my mom at work first.

She was thrilled and excited. She addressed my concerns and said that she had put some money away and that she had tucked enough away for such a thing and that together we would convince my father.

Okay, one step down!

Next one! I was to call Ann and Bill from the Etgen-Atkinson School of Ballet, where I took classes locally. They knew the situation from my father and when he refused to pay for my ballet classes … they had given me the ballet classes for free for the last two years.
They had continued to believe in me, even when I did not get into SAB the last two years. They convinced me to audition for the scholarship with the Richmond Summer Ballet Program to give me a chance to work with other teachers and learn different styles and methods. They knew how important that was.
I pick up the phone and in an excited voice I tell them the news! They are of course, thrilled for me! They are proud that so many of their dancers have gone to New York City for the Summer Programs from SAB, American Ballet Theater, Joffrey, Harkness School of Ballet, etc. And they loved to put that knowledge at the back of their programs for performances. It was a section called, “Dancers accepted on Scholarships” and those that have gone on to become professional ballet dancers.
They had a good record of knowing how to prepare dancers for a professional ballet career.
I was very proud to be in the Dallas Metropolitan Ballet company with them, as it gave me many more performing opportunities than other schools.
They started telling me things that I would need to work on and what to expect but I honestly did not hear much of it as I was just too excited!
After a few more phone calls (one to my grandparents from Brooklyn), I felt good that I had so many on board with me going to New York for the summer, that it would be difficult for my father to say, No!
I was going to go.
One way or the other!
He could not stop me.

I felt as if I was finally on a train that was leading me on the path to my dream of being a professional ballet dancer.
While my father was not on that train, he also would not be able to catch me. It was going to be up to me. I knew it! I had always known it. And that was how it was going to be.

I was fifteen years old. I was about to embark on a grand adventure to New York City.
It was 1976.
I had no idea what awaited me at the end of that train ride. But I was determined to find out.
Even now, people remark at how brave I was at 15 years old to go to New York City to dance.
People remark how courageous my father was to let me go to New York City at that time … by myself.
At fifteen years old, I knew it was going to be hard. That was a given.

I knew that he would have to let me go. Even in his words, “You never turn down free stuff!”
I knew that he hoped the shock of going to the big city would frighten me and that he hoped that the difficulties would so huge that it would finally discourage me and make me drop this ridiculous dream.
Because of that, I vowed that I would never complain, because that would give him more fuel for his argument.
I knew that I had to keep my mother out of the mix because stage mothers were embarrassing beyond belief, and that meant that I would have to handle all my problems … on my own.
That meant that I had to be very grown up and act accordingly, even when I knew I was just a kid.
I knew that I had to be very careful with the money and not do crazy things that most young teenagers would do given the chance to be on their own at a young age in New York City.

I knew that (more than any of the young dancers I knew), I was on my own.

But I liked that I was going to be up to me, my talent (0r lack of it), my determination, and a lot of common sense.

This was going to be the first big test in seeing if I had what it took to make it and to dance on a great stage … or if I was destined to just be forever looking down from the balcony at others dancing and living my dream.
I believed I was ready. I believed that a great adventure awaited. I was more excited than scared. That feeling would make me leap again and again in this life.
Life had a plan, and because of this dream, I was going to have great opportunities that would come with a great cost. But that cost I would willingly pay over and over again.
I knew that all dreams have a high price.
I knew that the price does not matter in the least.
Especially, when one is reaching for a star.