Rio Gringa

the worst place to be

After the past few weeks, I've decided my favorite place to people watch in Rio is the international arrivals gate at the airport, and the absolute worst is at the city's professional ballet school.

I've been volunteering at a ballet NGO since I moved here, and I've been training a group of kids since last March to audition for the state ballet school, one of the best in the country that feeds right into the city's ballet company. This week they're holding auditions, and one of my students asked me to go with her, since her mom couldn't go. So it began.

On volunteering

Yesterday I went back to the ballet school after winter break to start giving class again, even though technically next week is the first week of the semester. I'd arranged to give an extra class-- at the students' request--so the kids can get back in shape before their auditions for the big ballet school in a few weeks. The director chose the date for the extra class, but never responded when I asked her if she was able to warn all the kids in the class.

So naturally, when I got there, there were a grand total of two kids there. The director went on about how some kids hadn't signed up for the new semester yet and was completely unapologetic. So I gave class and it was fine, but I've already planned for some changes. Starting in March, I'm not going to give a weekly class, partially because I can't deal with the administration and the disorganization, and partially because the director asked if she could take half of my classes (I have one a week). Considering that she is the only other regular ballet teacher and she frequently misses the regular ballet classes, I just found that pill a little too hard to swallow. So in any event, starting in March I'm hoping to do a once a month masterclass or special event for my kids. Any ideas?

I've learned a lot volunteering here, and frankly not much of it has been positive. Even the kids, who I adore, are totally flaky, and it's safe to expect that a great student may show up one day and then never come back to the school at all. It's extremely hard to run an NGO in Brazil, and even more difficult in Rio. I haven't lost my faith in non-profits though. I've just learned how not to run one, which in the long run may be a good thing.

the gift of giving

Yesterday was my last ballet class before the holiday break. When I arrived at the studio, however, I found a grand total of one student there. The secretary looked at me with a blank stare. "I thought you weren't coming today," she said vaguely, not looking me in the eye. "Why would you think that?" I asked. "The other secretary told me you weren't coming. She said you told her that." "That's funny, I didn't, and I warned all the kids that today was the last class before the holiday."

She shrugged. "One of your students called to ask, and I told her there wasn't class. I'll call her back." So instead of, perhaps, calling me to confirm the class ahead of time, the secretary only then proceeded to call the student, who got there 40 minutes late. My student and I waited for about twenty minutes before I gave up and started class. It was completely humiliating.

But as I waited before class, I'd peeked at the holiday cards the younger kids had made and put up on the bulletin board, inside of which were written their hopes and dreams for 2009. (They're 3-12 years old). A lot of them mentioned they wanted to be ballerinas and hoped the ballet school would continue to be fun, while others mentioned specific things they wanted, like a banquet or toys. But my two favorites were these: "I want to have a happy, good year, and to have a year with a lot less violence." "I want peace, a better future, and a better life." They helped me put things into perspective.

When I got into the studio, I noticed a huge covered object sitting on the table. I peeked under the cover and found an enormous, stunning flat screen TV. It turns out the synagogue that helps fund the school donated it as a holiday gift. It's wonderful, and will be great for those few days when a teacher doesn't show and they set the kids up in front of a movie. But this is one of the big problems NGOs have--they get things they don't really need, or don't need as much as other items. Had the very generous givers asked what we really needed, they would have known we are in desperate need of a new stereo, since the old one works only about 25% of the time, which is a big problem at a dance school. Then again, maybe they did ask. Maybe I don't want to know.

I'd bought gifts for all the kids, so I split them between the two girls instead. "You gotta show up to get your gift," I said wearily. They were really excited and their lit up faces made me feel better. Then, one of the girls pulled something out of her bag and shyly presented it to me. "For your birthday," she said. It was a small package, carefully wrapped in red paper with a little gold bow, and inside was a box of bon bons. I was deeply touched, and I managed to babble thank you. That is as real as generosity gets. I left feeling just a little lighter.

breaking point

I've been working at the ballet NGO for over a year now, and the staff has put me through the ringer in many different ways, despite the many things I've done for the school (just take a look at the archives in this category). But I've stuck with it because I really enjoy teaching and I love the kids, and don't want to blame them for something that has nothing to do with them. But last night, I decided that my time there may be coming to end.

Last night was the annual school show, the only time of year that all of the students come together to perform in a professional setting. Earlier in the week, when I was about to leave for ballet class, I got an email saying there was no class since they'd be rehearsing, and if I'd like to come help, I should go to the theater. Since the rehearsal had started earlier, I figured I'd get there at the end and it wouldn't be much help. I emailed her explaining that.

So later in the week, I showed up to the show about fifteen minutes early, really excited to see my kids perform, since I've been working with my group since last April and really wanted to see how the results of their hard work on stage. As soon as I got there, however, one of the school assistant grabbed me and told me to head backstage. Confused, I told her, "But I came to see the show." She shrugged and said, "The director says she needs your help." I went backstage as the director was running out, and there didn't appear to be anything to do. Plus, all of the paid employees were there, as well as the full-time volunteer (all dressed in the official tee-shirt, by the way). The director came back and informed me, "You'll be staying here during the show to help. They need help with the little ones especially, and with the costumes." I didn't bother to argue, but I was pissed.

It's not that I don't like hanging out with the kids. They were cute as buttons, and my ill humor helped intimidate the little ones into mostly behaving. I barely got to see the kids from my class, however, who excitedly greeted me and then ran off to get ready. One of them said wistfully, "I wish you could watch us dance." I shrugged, exasperated, and replied, "Me, too." In the end, I did very little: I helped some of the little kids change (though there was plenty of staff to do so), helped some kids zip and tie their costumes, and shushed the kids from time to time. I didn't see a single moment of the show. As soon as it ended and they corralled the kids on the stage to supposedly organize clean-up groups, I peaced out.

The thing about volunteering is that it is just that: a voluntary act. The show only happens once a year, and I don't think I'll be here next year. I do want to help out and be useful, but I also really resent being ordered around like an employee, and also appreciate being asked ahead of time if I'm willing to work. It just makes me see how little I'm appreciated and how they seem to think I'm there to be used at will. 

Since the class I'm giving now is meant to train the kids for the professional school audition, which happens in late February, I'm considering ending my tenure then. I'll miss my kids, but hopefully some will be able to move on to the professional school. There are plenty of good causes in this city, and maybe even a few where my hard work would be appreciated.

Ballet D-Day

Part I, 12:28PM
Today I'm scheduled to take the kids from the ballet school to sign up for auditions at the Escola Municipal, the best ballet school in Rio that feeds directly into the city company. I warned the kids and the staff two months ahead of time and reminded them every single week, but it's not clear if the director got permission for the fee waiver in time despite that.

There are some of my kids who I really have faith in that could make it--even though the actual auditions aren't until February. Getting in to this school could be life-changing for them, especially the boys, since male dancers are much harder to come by.

Part II, 6:30PM

Success! Well, sort of. The director got the fee waiver in on time, but some of the kids didn't get all their documents together. Two didn't show up at all, two showed up with incomplete stuff, and I took the four who had everything down to the school to register. The school is a tiny, nondescript door in the middle of Lapa, a shoddy, run-down old neighborhood that's popular for its nightlife. Inside, though, the school is simple but enormous, and as soon as I walked in I had a pang, one that many dancers have when they haven't danced seriously for awhile, watching the girls mill around in their warm-ups and hearing strains of a piano floating down from the studios.

A very cute black guy registered the kids quickly and efficiently (hallelujah!), and the kids told me they were already nervous--even though their audition isn't until mid-February. I'm going to prepare them for the best (and the worst) in the upcoming months, and send the flaky kids with their parents to register.

Only four months to go!

chugging away

So I haven't written about the ballet school in awhile, since nothing really exciting has happened. We're chugging along, and some days are good and some days are bad, and some days I have a full class and some days I don't. I'm taking the kids to sign up for the professional school auditions in two weeks, even though they don't hold the actual auditions for another few months (ahh, Brazil).

I've had my usual kids: my fifteen year old sweetheart, a bubbly little blonde girl, my older teenager who comes to every class without fail, and my one boy who I have high hopes for. My favorite girl, as I think I mentioned, is gone for good because of some petty argument (I think, on the mother's part). Also, the girl who disappeared months ago mysteriously reappeared, which made me happy because she is so good. I got an excellent new student about a month ago, but she now has pneumonia. Oy vey.

This week, I got yet another new student -- a nineteen year old semi-professional dancer. He looks like a male version of Rihanna and is an excellent dancer. Apparently he danced at the professional school and for a great dance troupe, and left for awhile and now has to reaudition for the professional school. After class, he grilled me for over half an hour, and I could tell he was just so excited to talk about ballet, especially with a gringa. He's dying to go abroad to study ballet, and I tried to gently break it to him that it is very difficult to do that, though not impossible. I'm excited I have such a talented dancer--and another boy--in my class.

the eternal drama

My experience with the dance world is that there will never be a dance school, company, or group without loads of DRAMA. It doesn't matter what city or country you're in, there will always be drama. Mix in Brazil and a non-profit, and you're in for even more.

Last week the director of the NGO and I exchanged a barrage of emails, which in the end was productive because she actually read them. I had asked her about funding for my kids to audition for the very prestigious and competitive city ballet school, and she said they could get an exemption. However, somewhere in the exchange she mentioned that two of my students shouldn't audition because "one wouldn't make the weight requirements and the other didn't have good turnout" [read: can't dance].

Naturally, I was horrified, but tried to be diplomatic. I responded that the kids had already decided to audition and that despite the cut-throat atmosphere she assumed I knew nothing about, it would be worth it for them to take a shot. I also included that I hadn't chosen the second girl in question for the advanced class to begin with (I'd tried to talk to the director about it numerous times, to no avail), and that her incompetent secretary had put the girl in without permission.

A few days later, the secretary started making up all these excuses and trying to be nice to me, when most of the time she gives me evil looks and ignores me (all this, nearly 5 months after the fact). Whatever. This past week, I taught my regular class and then very generously offered to teach two other classes later in the week, since the director fired the ballet teacher and is now giving all the ballet classes, which she can't make all the time. Like I've done in the past, I stepped up when they needed help.

I got there that day to find that not only was the director there, but that she wouldn't need me to teach a whole second class because she was going to start rehearsals for the summer show that day. She came in and out of the second class while I was teaching, asking occasionally to do the combination with the kids, and then basically told me to peace out so she could do the fun stuff. I felt bad because in my frustration, I took it out on the kids at the end of class, when it was really her that I was annoyed with.

The upside of that day was meeting a girl from the teen class who took a liking to my gringa-ness, and on her way out, waved and said, in perfect English, "Bye bye, girlfriend!" I nearly cuteoverloaded.