Last Sunday was a big day, anticipated for weeks. It would be my daughter’s first skating lesson. Skates had been bought and adjusted. Blades had been sharpened. Long underwear and double layers had been put on.
We arrived at the rink 20 minutes ahead of time and got her laced up and ready to go. Then we sat and watched what appeared to be the end of a group skating lesson. The children were about my daughter’s age… stumbling and falling but nonetheless trying very hard with an encouraging teacher who had them bending their knees, making babysteps and falling gracefully.
At 2 pm, the time that Rada’s class was to begin, we went out onto the ice and met the skating instructor. He said, “Oh we didn’t see you in class”.
Perplexed, I said,”what do you mean? We’re here to start the lesson”.
He said “Skating school is over. It goes from 1-2.”
My spirits fell. Somehow there had been a mistake in communication and we had missed her lesson. Looking at the crestfallen child next to me, I apologized to the teacher and said as cheerfully as possible, “well, we’ll do free skating now (thank goodness it was free skating) and we’ll see you next week.”
The instructor looked at Rada for a moment and said, “Wait here”. He went over and spoke to the school director for a minute and then came back to us and said to Rada, “Hey, lets you and me take a spin on the ice.”
And he proceeded to give her the equivalent of a 1/2 hour private lesson. It was pretty amazing. She ‘skated’ the entire length of the rink, she fell with grace and got up again. She bent her knees and she did little bunny steps.
I thanked the instructor. My daughter was beaming. “I can skate!”
It was pretty neat.
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