How we might start our day...

During our second session, members of the dance writing course created personal essays describing what they did to prepare for class that morning. Here is what they revealed:

I walked in to the studio and stared at the clock for longer than needed – 8.03. I placed my water bottle down next to the spot I intended to stand and then went down to the floor. I went through my usual morning stretching routine and found my body to be tighter than I expected. My eyes also felt heavy as I tried to focus on anything, but the clock in the mirror – which was an odd thing to be focused on at this time because it appeared backwards in the mirror and in this state was difficult to read – said 8.40. No, it can't be. I was forced to look back at the clock. 8.20. Time passed and I tried to wake up a little more before I was forced to engage the class...

Clapping, clapping and more clapping. "That was interesting," I tell myself. Class is over, 10.30. I go and shake the teacher's hand and thank him fo r the class. I tinker around the room, trying to understand what just happened to me. I come to the conclusion that I took class and it ended a few seconds ago. That means I have another class, somewhere and some time soon.

I find myself downstairs in front of the schedule board, which looks like a game of Tetris. (For those who don't know, it is that video game with all those different colored blocks falling from the sky.) And just like Tetris you can stare at all of these lovely little cubes of color for long periods of time without any understanding of what you are staring at. Then it hits m. Here it is, the yellow block sandwiched between a blue and green block. This tells me where to go – Modern 11.00-12.15 – and I go upstairs and tinker around before my next class. It starts. 11.02...

Ian Buchanan

Ben Harper woke me up this morning with one of my favorite songs – Steal My Kisses. I had to admit that I had decided on a great artists from my iPod to start my day.

I couldn't hear the next three songs while in the shower, but I still had the first song in my head to sustain me until I turned off the water. I put up my hair, dressed and put on my make-up to the rest of the Burn to Shine album, and began Diamonds on the Inside as I ate my breakfast, packed my lunch and gathered my things. After pluggin my iPod into my ear, I sipped my tea while driving to She's Only Happy in the Sun.

I had a moment of shock when I first arrived at the ballet, thinking that I had forgotten my pointe shoes. However, I realized shortly after turning my car back towards the house that they were safely in my locker. Despite the valuable stretching time that had been wasted, I wasn't too upset by my detour, because I got to listen to Temporary Remedy. Finally, after changing and heading in to the studio, I related to Amen Omen and Bring the Punk right before pliés. Now I was ready for class.

Julie Smith

I opened my eyes as the alarm clock blared in my ear. I remember telling myself that if I could only roll onto the floor then I would be able to get up... I placed my oatmeal into the microwave for an extra minute and continued on towards the shower. The water ran down my back and I began to become more awake. I felt my hamstrings tighten into knots as I steeped out over the edge of the shower... I staggered into the kitchen making small morning noises as I looked for my Ibuprofen. "Ah, my oatmeal." I took it out of the microwave and promptly sat at the table. I eagerly placed my spoon in to the bowl. Arrgh! My mouth was on fire. Oatmeal went everywhere... I reached into the dryer and heart sank. My clothes had been in there for two days. "What the hell. I am an idiot," I thought. Of course my clothes weren't dry if the settings are on "No Heat/Fluff". All was said and done. I walked to the car and drove to the studios. It was going to be a rough Thursday.

Mark Tucker

This morning in preparation for class I dressed in uniform and pulled my hair into a constricting and uncomfortable bun. After leaving the house much later than usual, it dawned on my that Stanton Welch, the artistic director, would be teaching our class. I then rushed to the studio and attempted to stretch my limbs, sore from the previous days. I then scrambled to find a decent pair of pointe shoes to wear when I realized I only had a few minutes to spare. Luckily I was able to gain composure and not appear as a complete unorganized slob in my first class with Stanton.

Abby Bushnell

Everything was going fine getting ready for ballet class this morning, until it was time to drive there. I got to the front of Ouinan Hall exactly at 8am for the first bus run but it wasn't until 8.20am that a bus even showed up! I thought I wasn't going to have time to stretch. I was so mad at the counselors. I thought that they were being lazy, only having one person making trips to and from the ballet. But it turns out that a student had to be taken to the emergency room. I arrived at the Houston Ballet with only 15 minutes to spare.

Claire Riebe

The van was supposed to pick us up at 8am, like they promised. 8.10 rolled by, then 8.15...8.20. The white van lethargically rolled up to the curb. I jumped on as soon as possible and rode in silence, thinking about where I would stand, what stretches I would do and what pointe shoes to wear. We finally arrived and I dashed into the studio, found the best left-over spot at the barre and finally sat down, officially beginning the long day ahead.

Stanton Welch walked in, instantly bringing the room to silence. I could feel the tension in the room gradually loosen throughout class, from the tendus to the rond de jambs, from the pirouettes to the bourees. My feet throbbed as the entire class surrounded Mr. Welch, thanking him graciously.

As I limped out of the nearly vacant studio, sulking over all of my mistakes, I went over the rest of my day. Variations, Pas De Deux (with Claudio), Jazz and rehearsal. I wiped my dripping face, pulled on my garbage shorts and rehydrated. I stepped outside the studio, where tons of dancers were scattered and talking.

Laura Whitby

I was uncommonly tired on Monday. It had been a long time since I felt that sleepy, not even in the past week after dancing for hours and hours. I could hear the Spice Girls singing next to me, along with the vibration of my alarm clock.

I say up in a flourish, trying to turn it off. I felt the blood rushing down my head as flashes of light clouded my vision. I walked towards the bathroom while holding on to the wall. The water was nice, not too hot but warm enough to relax my muscles. The shower passed by like a film being watched without paying much attention, while I left my thoughts fly away to the studios of Houston Ballet.

Braulio Alvarez