Grace K., Centerville High School
On Top of the World
It’s 8:30 on a Monday morning. You’re in a room of unfamiliar faces, leotard straps a little too tight, tights a little too small. Your arms ache from pulling your hair into the perfect bun, and a bobby pin pokes the back of your head. That’s what greeted me on day one of my summer dance intensive when I was 13. Sounds fun, right?
Wrong. I was ready to go home before the day had even started. But then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a former student from a ballet class I had assisted for the previous year. She seemed nervous, so I walked over to her. Putting on my best cheerful teacher-assistant voice, I asked if she was excited. She met my eyes through her blue glasses and said, “Yeah”.
“Nervous?”
“Yeah.”
I reassured her that it was okay to be nervous and tried cracking jokes, drawing some curious looks from the people around us. But she only knew me, and I felt responsible for ensuring that she had a great time. After all, can you imagine how anxious a little girl would feel?
Arriving at my first class, I found a spot at a ballet barre and scanned the room: gloomy, tired faces everywhere. Sure, we were excited, but a long day of classes and rehearsals doesn’t exactly inspire joy. No one in their right mind would waste their energy being happy. Right?
That’s what I thought too. But my “overly optimistic” state had followed me in. When my teacher walked in, I could see her trying to hype us up. As she walked passed, I smiled at her. I smiled at everyone who met my eyes during our silent ritual of searching for competition. It’s that happy girl, they probably thought. What’s with her? They probably thought. She had too much coffee, they probably thought.
As class went on, my optimism remained strong. My usual self-consciousness seemed gone. Soon, my friends were giggling with me. What should have been a long, monotonous class flew by. It wasn’t until the end, as we gathered to thank our teacher, that I noticed a huge change: everyone was smiling, but not forced, polite smiles. They were real, genuine smiles. What kind of sorcery had transformed a room of tired teenagers into a cheerful crowd?
A smile.
I had shared one with everyone in that room. And sometimes, a smile simply refuses to go away. That’s my kind of sorcery.
At the end of the day, as I thought about all the cheerful faces I had seen, I realized that a small smile could change everything. Sharing positivity helped those around me discover their own. It’s crazy how in a world so caught up in competition, a simple gesture can have such a big impact. If just one person paused to smile at someone, both just became happier. Imagine if everyone did that.
We would all be on top of the world.
