ziva david - au {ballet instructor in NYC}

The day had grown snowy, chilly, bitten. She glanced at the ancient circular clock on the wall of her studio, it traveled with her to every broken down studio building, with every new company. She thought her students could use more time to stretch. Today would be very rigorous, as is most days in her studio, but the weather was cold and the muscles would take longer to warm up, to adjust, she knew. 

Ziva leaned against the railing across the floor from her dancers and observed them closely. Each of them had their own personalities, varying in age from 13 to 18. All extremely talented. She knew most of them could move into professional spots in companies, possibly even Broadway, where she did not land. Her knees gave out on her, her feet ached from being on pointe since six, and she did not have that young stamina she once was praised for. Too many things happened to her in her mid-twenties. The birth of her daughter nine years ago sent her into the instructing stage of her career. This was where she knew she belonged. This was also the third year in a row that Ziva David’s company placed in a national event. 

“Daniel, please extend the arm. Extend, Daniel!” She noticed his blue eyes widen and he quickly fell back into his distinctive poise. 

Ziva did not have much, a small yet comfy studio on the edge of NYC, a hand-wringing paycheck, but she had some of the best kept secrets within the dance studio circle. She did not like to brag like many high-end studios typically do, she was humble, honest and hard working, which could make her out to be intimidating to some. The dance world was not a fluffy place after all.

Once she thought the kids had enough warming-up, she clapped her hands together, gaining their attention.

“This competition…we’re going to show them all what you can do. Your families, your friends, and definitely your competition.” She threw them a smile as she slipped off her blue pea coat and tossed it over a rail.