Ugly Duckling
I think everyone would agree that The Ugly Duckling is iconic. The title alone brings so many things to mind — mean ducks and vulnerable baby swans and the grace of finally coming home to those that love and appreciate you. It’s practically shorthand for that experience by now.
Movements and gestures can be like that too. So embedded with meaning, so iconic, we don’t have to say anything to know exactly what they mean. Like waving hi. Or bye. How many times have those simple, wordless gestures filled us with warmth or brought us to tears at the possibility of never seeing that loved one again?
To me, the ballet move called swan arms is kind of like that. For starters swan arms are extremely technical as they incorporate three distinct arm positions in one movement — moving from Bra Bas, to open first, to fifth and then reversed. This movement builds the dancers strength in their back and core muscles. That alone makes it special.
To make it even more singular those separate parts never look separate. As a matter of fact, when they come together they make something infinitely greater than their parts — flight.
They also play an important part in the ballet Swan Lake, whose lead, the beautiful Odette, is considered the penultimate part for any ballerina. Her death scene is a true test of a ballerina’s artistry and skill — the depths of her grief and love expressed perfectly through her swan arms.
And don’t even get me started when a corps de ballet does swan arms in unison! Something magical happens in that unity that’s the best of them all.
Recently, during practice, I was playing the part of the Ugly Duckling. The children (as the ducks) had gathered around and were at the part where they had to make fun of me. They jeered and pointed and one of my students turned to me very concerned. “I’m sorry, Ms. Bonnie,” he said with the utmost sincerity. “We have to do it for the dance. We aren’t really making fun of you.” And the empathy he had for me, and the depth of his concern, and the absolute openness with which he tried to make me feel better about myself confirmed for me in that one simple moment that I was, indeed, in the presence of a swan.
If you’ve ever felt like an Ugly Duckling, if you’ve ever wanted to tell someone they’re your swan…please consider supporting our program in any way you can so we can continue to empower our students and our swans. We’ll not only be swans together in the same corps de ballet, but swans together in the same corps de vie.
Because it really is true, isn’t it? It really is of little consequence to be born in a duck’s nest when you’re hatched from a swan’s egg.
And when you get right down to it, aren’t we all?
Happy flying cygnets,
Miss. Bonnie