A small victory in a big war

This is going to be a long post, so you'll have to bear with me.

My ten-year old daughter, MG, has started attending an Israeli folk-dancing class. She goes to it dressed in a black leotard and tights, with her shoulder-length curly hair gelled down tightly into a ponytail, black clips holding down any rebel curls. They do folkdancing steps, often in couples, clapping hands, swirling around and loudly yelling:"HEY HOP" . It looks like real fun indeed.

She used to love the class. She'd come back skipping, and singing and dancing the steps. A big smile on her happy face.

But she also happened to mention that most of the girls in her dancing class had received the "best dancer of the week" title the teacher conferred to the students. But not her. So I told her: "Don't worry. Just do your best. I am sure you will also get the recognition sometime."



Then after a while she mentioned that some of the girls had received the title of best dancer three times. "But I never got it even once," she complained.

Now: the choreographer of the dances is a thin tough young Mr R who is very strict with the girls. The actual teacher of the steps is also a student of Mr R, a short brown-haired possibly 17-year old (I'll call her T) who is obviously a good dancer and was chosen to teach the younger children their steps.

And: I also know that our swimming teacher awards "swimmer of the month" titles every month. He makes it a point to award each and every child in his class: if not for being the best swimmer then for perseverence, improvement, seriousness. He always find a reason to confer the children some encouragement, so they will continue to work hard and attend classes, even when there are better swimmers than them. That is what you should do, indeed, if you are a good teacher and if you have some brains.

Anyway, obviously nobody thought of teaching our teacher T some child psychology. So I thought that perhaps I could gently nudge her in the right direction. I called her up on her cellphone, introduced myself, and said: "I understand that you give out 'dancer of the week' awards to everyone. But you have never awarded one to MG. You know, even if she isn't the best dancer in your group, you should perhaps award her for her perseverence." She said that it is not true that most girls had received it the award but she'll see what she can do.

But she never gave her that award. And MG, who is tall and athletic, may not be the best dancer in her group, but she is certainly not the worst.

Anyway, I did not intervene again and the classes proceeded as usual, but MG was not happy. "T keeps saying I am doing things wrong," she said. "She keeps on taking me out of dances and saying I am not good enough. She picks on me all the time."

I was mystified. Perhaps my MG is not such a good dancer after all, I thought. So I said: "It is important to do your best and persevere". But MG often said she did not feel like going to class anymore, even if she always did attend in the end.


The big-show crisis
Then came the big show: all the girls were very excited, and were told to buy white leotards and tights and special dancing shoes. All pretty pricey, of course. But then, who counts anymore anyway. So we also bought the required, and MG attended all the special rehersals. But then one day she came out of the class really furious. "I am not going to this stupid class anymore," my tough 10-year old said. "I am fed up."

It appears the teacher took her out of the first dance (the one she actually knew very well) and put her in a second dance, which MG admitted she didn't know very well. And then the teachers told the girls in the second dance group that perhaps they may not participate in the show at all, because they were not prepared enough.

So I gently went to Mr R and asked him about the crisis. He explained that the girls in group two were not prepared enough, so maybe there would be only one dance at the show. So I said: "Perhaps you should train them more, and make sure they are prepared. You know, it is very important for them to be in the show. They were all looking forward to it."

Meanwhile I had the wildest paranoid scenarios churning around in my head. My major question was: "Why did they take her out of group one, when she actually knew the dance in that one?"

"Maybe they don't want her because she is brown and perhaps she doesn't fit in with the other girls colour-wise. After all, they are all pink and all have white leotards and tights," I told my husband MM. My daughter MG, being adopted of Ethiopian origin, is the only coloured child in her dance class. She is also the only colored child in her school class, in her school, and our neighbourhood, for God's sake! OK, OK. I know I was paranoid, but I couldn't help it.

Apparently I was not the only outraged Mum, and other mothers phoned and complained as well about their daughters not being in the show. So the teachers decided to give them additional rehersals, and MG got to dance her dance. But she was not happy.

Then, in the first dancing class after the show I got an outraged call from MG again. "I want out of this stupid class," she said. "Come pick me up now." I told her to finish the class and I'd be there at the end. I told her: "Ok, if you want to leave it is fine with me." I was completely fed up. "But I am going to speak to the teacher first."

"No," MG said over the phone. "Don't speak to her. I'm just not going to come anymore and that's it."

When I picked MG up she was still fuming. Apparently the teacher had told another girl to step into the dance instead of MG because "MG is not dancing well enough," the teacher T had announced to the class.

MG did not want me to speak to T. "Lets just go, and that's it," she demanded. But I was ANGRY. So I told MG. "MG, if you want to leave it's fine, because this is really too much. But you must never leave without giving a reason. You can't just walk away. You have to say why, and then walk away."

"I'm not coming with you," she said angrily, and stomped away to a far corner, her arms crossed against her chest.

I went up to T anyway. "Can I speak to you for a minute?," I asked politely.

"Sure," she answered.

"MG wants to leave your class because she says you pick on her all the time," I said.

T appared to be taken aback. "I am sorry she feels this way," she said. "But I have to correct her."

So then I asked. "Is MG such a bad dancer? Do you want her out of your class? Is that it? Because if that is the case, then just tell me, because I'll happily take her out. I don't see what's the point of paying so much money for this class only to to have my daughter coming out of it feeling useless and demeaned."

"No, of course not," T answered. "MG is a good dancer. Its just that she missed some classes a while ago and never made up the steps."

To be fair, MG did miss some classes when we traveled abroad for a week.

"Look," I said. "MG wants to leave this class and frankly I don't blame her. Life is hard enough as it is, and I don't need to pay good money so you can make it even harder for her." By then, I have to ashamedly admit, my voice was wobbly and my eyes were shiny with tears.

"Really?" T asked."Life is hard for her?"

I already could see her imagining all kinds of awful things for MG. So I immediately clarified my point to this dimwit. "Well," I said. "MG is the only coloured girl in your class and the only coloured girl in her school and in this neighborhood. Believe me, life is not easy for her. And you are not making it easier, by picking on her and humiliating her all the time," I said. I also wanted to yell: "And perhaps you notice all the mistakes she makes, because she stands out so much more!!" But I didn't.

T was taken aback by my reaction. OK, I know, I probably traumatized her for life with my wet eyes and wobbly voice. But I was ANGRY. VERY ANGRY. And when I get REALLY ANGRY I often tear up.

So she apologized. To me. But especially to MG. And she told her she didn't mean to offend her and that she would personally teach her the steps. And that if MG ever felt that T was being mean to her, she should directly talk to T.

MG was very pleased. She and T hugged. On our way home I pressed my point. "You see MG? In life, you shouldn't walk away from things. You must stay and fight for your rights when you can. Then you can walk away." MG was quiet. Before the next class, MG said she was prepared to try it out again.

When I picked MG up at the end the lesson she asked: "Guess who got best dancer of the week today?" "Yeahhhhh, " I answered, giving her a hug, and thinking: that silly T could have made it a little less obvious than this. Then MG, who is no fool, said dryly. "You and your big mouth."

But her eyes were smiling. And her small brown hand was warm in mine.

Photo: David and Goliath