I watched a ballet class yesterday. There were twelve novice students all aged 3 or 4 years old at their second ever class. The teacher was more than twice as tall as her tallest pupil. Each student wore a pretty leotard with a mauve, black or pink tutu or fairy skirt. Each little pair of feet had a pair of ballet slippers. Each shining head of hair was plaited or bunned.
Two of the students had trouble leaving their mothers and would flit back to their sides at opportune times throughout the lesson, for comfort and reassurance. Many of the others turned and waved at parents as they ran past, just checking they were being watched.
Laughing and giggling, their faces lighting up when given a sparkling wand to wave. They skipped, twirled and galloped their way around the sunlit hall, squealing with joy as they thundered past. Being light on your feet must be a skill taught later in the term.
If only every class for the rest of their lives could be taken with such enthusiasm and joy.