The Ball Breaker

Every year, my little darling’s ballet class dutifully performs “The Nutcracker” for an audience of adoring families and friends. Every year, but this year.

This year, her dance teacher, who we lovingly refer to as the Ball Breaker, canceled Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker due to bad weather. This decision, we parents all agreed, was rash. Beyond rash. Some of us muttered how we would pull our children from the school in protest. It was cruel to the children who had practiced so hard for months to be ready for this hallmark of Christmas in our coastal village. It was insensitive to the grandparents and aunts and uncles who were arriving in droves to see their little darlings perform in their precious pink tutus and crisp red soldier suits.

Canceling the Nutcracker was like canceling Christmas. This being a quote from one of the performers. He announced to his parents that Christmas was ruined and they spent the whole weekend doing backflips, trying to bring the Yuletide glow back into his sullen cheeks.

The Ball Breaker is an alcohlic.  This is not just a town rumor, this is a fact. She drinks too much and everyone knows it. Even her students. Because of it, many of her students have left her program, even though she is a gifted teacher who knows her stuff and can make her students soar. She has an alcoholic’s personality. Unpredictable. Mood swings. Control freak. Life is a moving target.

Canceling the Nutcracker because snow was forecast in a place where we rarely get snow was the decision of an alcoholic. We parents called each other and used words like rash and ridiculous. I blamed her alcoholic personality. When I called her to find out why she would make such a decision, she answered the phone gleefully and told me how happy she was, oblivious to the heartbreak she had inflicted upon her students. I assumed she was drunk. Seniors who finally had their chance to be the Snow Queen and the Sugar Plum Fairy had the wind sucked from their sails. Poof, gone. Can’t redo this year. The Ball Breaker said they would do an abreviated version during the spring show.  This woud give them more time to perfect their variations on point. So not the same.

My little darling has been dancing with the Ball Breaker since she was five-years-old. Yes, I have sat through seven Nutcrackers, in most cases all three performances of seven Nutcrackers. No regrets.

We have contemplated removing our little darling from the school, particularly the time when the Ball Breaker actually came to class intoxicated. The kids all knew it and the oldest student made the decision to cancel class and ushered the younger ones home. (She happens to be my sponsor’s daughter.) But my little darling loves ballet, loves to perform, and loves the Ball Breaker. And so she stays.

This morning, I had coffee with an old friend, someone I haven’t seen for a while. She has lived in this town for 30-plus years and has history that I lack. We reminisced and I told her that my little darling was still dancing but that we were all aghast by the Ball Breaker’s bad decision. The forecasted snow never even came.

My friend told me that years ago, before my time, a little girl was killed in a car crash trying to make it to a Nutcracker rehearsal in a snow storm. What?

I remembered what the Ball Breaker said to me when I asked her why she canceled. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt trying to make it to the Performing Arts Center. We have too many students who live outside of town.” I thought she was being dramatic. But now I know that she was being cautious, putting the safety of our children ahead of the show.  That she was making a sound and informed decision. That she was determined not to let history repeat itself. No wonder she was so gleeful when I called.  She had conquered death.

If anyone can pull off the Nutcracker in the spring, it’s the Ball Breaker.