
At that time, it was simply an activity I spent an hour on each week. Before I knew it, the weekly twirling and jumping around in class became a yearly ritual.
When I was introduced to the school’s “competition team” at the age of 11, I was far from enthusiastic about it.
Joining the team meant less free time to myself as I had to attend extra classes which consisted of endless stretching and strengthening, resulting in intense muscle cramps the following day.
A year would pass before I took part in my first competition. It was held in Singapore and it was on that maiden outing that I fell in love with not only being on stage, but also the whole experience of being a participant.
I enjoyed the classes that were conducted by the judges, and the experience of being in a foreign country, sharing a room with my dance mates, and cheering each other on.
However, all these were nothing compared to being on stage. The euphoria that pulsed in me moments before my turn to take the stage was what I have looked forward to ever since.
The next few years were a smooth sailing ride for me as I went on to take part in more international competitions and even completed the Advanced 1 ballet syllabus from the Royal Academy of Dance but then, the Covid-19 pandemic struck and all my lessons were moved online.
With no teacher by my side, I had to depend on myself with a video camera before me as my only companion.
As the days passed, I could feel my motivation waning. There was no one physically watching and correcting me, and I had no idea whether I caught my teacher’s attention unless I was acknowledged. I felt frustrated because dancing at home did not feel like dancing in the studio at all. Yes, I had enough space and the floor was not slippery, but I was dancing alone and it didn’t feel as exhilarating.
Online recordings for competitions were simply not the same, and I did not find joy in it. I could see myself getting sluggish, and my lack of improvement made it even worse.
Yet, I simply could not find a way out. On top of that, I had to prepare for my International General Certificate of Secondary Education (IGCSE) exams in the middle of last year.
I thus decided that it was time for a break. I completely stopped attending ballet classes for about four months and only did self-practice whenever I was done revising for my exams.
This felt less constricting and I could decide when and what I wanted to practise. It was at this time that I truly understood what it meant to dance with the aim of expressing, not impressing.
I realised that my drive to improve all this while was not for me, but rather to show everyone how much I could improve.
I rediscovered the beauty of ballet as I practised by myself, having the time to explore and enjoy the dance without any time constrictions, and the instructions of a teacher.
Had it not been for the implementation of the movement control order to curb the spread of the pandemic, I would still be dancing for the praises that came my way, hungry to be noticed, rather than for self-improvement.
It has not been an easy journey, but I would say that it is all worth it. Some say it takes commitment, discipline, determination and many other qualities to be a dancer, but to me, passion should be on top of the list because without passion, it becomes something you have to do rather than something you want to do.
Yan Huen, 17, a student in Kuala Lumpur, is a participant of the BRATs Young Journalist Programme run by The Star’s Newspaper-in-Education (Star-NiE) team.
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