The Little People

By Madeleine Kando

I teach little people. Very little people. In fact, I don’t think they qualify as humans yet. They are more like puppies or kittens or cubs. They call me Miss Madeleine (since my hair turned grey I have graduated from a Ms. to a Miss, don’t ask me why) and when they call me ‘teacher’ I explain to them that I prefer to be called Miss Madeleine because they would not like it if I called them ‘girl’ instead of Mary or Jane or Agatha. But of course my puppies don’t understand that. They just obey because they see the frown on my face, not because of my argument.Well, of course they don’t understand. Puppies don’t understand anything do they? I have tried to see the world from the perspective of little people and realized that it takes an entire reversal of self.

Take their size for instance. I tried to go about my day on my knees once (that’s how high you reach if you are 4 years old). It is as if the world were chopped off from the waist up. All the stuff we find interesting and important in the world we usually don’t put on the floor but on tables, desks, shelves etc. The only thing that little people experience without being lifted up to our level are dirty shoes, old boxes, trash cans etc. No wonder they cannot wait to grow bigger.

And what about the volume of their voice? Tiny squeaks, most of them. Which they HAVE to amplify by screaming all the time. They have to compete with grown-up barritones just to be heard. And their poor little legs. You cannot blame a child for running around, bumping into things, breaking items, falling down all the time. They have to go the same distance to the park as mom, but their legs have to work a lot faster to get there.

Let’s not even start on the size of their brain. Granted it is relatively big compared to the rest of their apparatus, but still.. how do you expect a little puppy to understand what ‘recital’ means? Every June my little people have to do a ballet performance for their adoring parents. So I ask them: ‘Does anyone know what a recital is?’ 4 year old Samantha volunteers to share her knowledge and explains to the group with a patient tone of voice that a recital is when you don’t throw out garbage but recital it.

Little people also don’t deal well with abrupt changes. I usually wear my long hair in a pony tail (you know: the typical ballerina teacher look). A while ago I went to the hairdresser and when 4 year old Alyssa entered the studio and saw me with my expensive $80.00 hair cut, she stopped. She stared. Then she smiled and said with great empathy in her voice: ‘Hi Miss Madeleine. Are you having a bad hair day?’

I am actually lucky to be a teacher of dance. Little people are very good at immitating. Their boundless confidence makes them believe that immitating an adult will be the key to understanding something. The problem with that is that they immitate EVERYTHING. After my shoulder surgery, that year’s performance looked rather strange and the parents asked me whether I had invented a new form of ballet. All my little people had one arm neatly folded on their chest, just like I had shown them with my right arm in a sling.leave comment here