From little tappers big tappers grow.

I've been teaching tap to grown-ups for a long time now, but I didn't start teaching tap-dance to children until my firstborn was 4 years old.  The desire to teach children arrived only after I'd borne children of my own and really wanted them to tap, but the impetus to actually do it came from a couple of my friends, who supported and encouraged me to set up what is now probably the more successful arm of my business.

This picture was taken at the first ever Miss Caroline Tap Dance Kiddie Class.  I had 4 students in all, one of whom was my own Climber, resplendent in his Mr Incredible dress-up. They were all 4 years old.  The two little girls you see here are Squeaky (the blonde) and Pea, and they are the offspring of two of my best friends, Jenny and Astrid from Mothers Group.  These three tiny tappers first 'met' in a Maternal Child Health Centre when they were 6 weeks old and barely able to lift their own heads, so I think I can safely say that they have been friends their whole lives. 



They are nearly 10 years old now, still close friends, still completely at ease with each other way in a way that makes my heart swell.  I can't tell you how much I hope that their beautiful friendship continues on through their teen years and beyond.

It makes me very happy that they are still tapping together.  This is how they looked on the weekend, nearly 6 years on since their first class, recognisably the same, just taller, and doing much harder stuff with their feet...



Gorgeous. 

And let's not forget their younger siblings, who were also central to the tale of the Miss Caroline Kids' Classes story.  There came a day when they too were big enough to dance, but not quite big enough to join the original class, who were by this stage older and capable of trickier tapping.  So this photo shows the moment when my school started running two Kid Tap classes, one for school-aged children and one for pre-schoolers.  I love this photo of them, so excited to be doing what they'd watched the bigger kids doing all those years: Squeaky's sister BP, my own Cherub and Pea's sister Roo.  These three are great friends too.



This was them doing their own special number on the weekend: Happy Feet.  (Excuse my cheesy grin there, it is part of the choreography.)  They were great.



These days I run four, count 'em, four Childrens Tap Classes and no longer rely solely on my friends to fill the enrolments. (Although the third-borns of both Jenny and Astrid dance in the younger classes.)  I always enjoyed teaching adults and had reservations about whether training kids would be as rewarding -all that crowd control!- but I absolutely love teaching the children.  I am blessed with exceptionally nice students and the joy from working with them every Saturday is only matched by the pride I feel as I see them develop.  The weekend's performance at Station Street really brought that home to me, with every single one of my gorgeous students, but maybe especially for these six tappers who have been with me from the start: Squeaky, Climber, Pea, BP, Cherub and Roo, you rock xx

Station Street Fiesta 2010

The annual Station Street Open Mind Fiesta is run by the Mental Illness Fellowship Victoria and aims to help remove the stigma associated with Mental Illness. I've been proud to be a part of this festival for the last 4 years, and to support such a worthy cause.

I think we had a really good show today, and luckily for us, the bad weather held off.  Here are some shots of us, and there are more over here.

This is The Tap-pets; myself and the lovely Miss Kaye, performing the opening number.


Below, you see the Tiny Tappers, all of them too small to even be at school.  This photo here shows us doing little shoulder drops, which was a winner with the audience, a collective Aw! came up as they did it.



These kids are the Junior Shufflers, and here you see us being Supercalifragilistic etc, I'm having an invisible cuppa at this moment, I hope I don't always make this face when I drink tea.



Ah, the Gliding Groovers, they are getting to be very clever tappers.  This is a moment of stillness just before the music starts, but they all love this dance so you can see the anticipation on their faces.



The Tapsters, who performed an acapella routine with rather advanced moves in it and kept the beat nice and strong.  This photo shows them doing their second routine, the one they did with music: the line here is you can't see my feet cos they move so fast  and look, its true!




The kids and Miss Kaye did a fabulous job, and we all enjoyed ourselves enormously. As ever, I am indebted to Mister Fixit and the wonderful Nell for all their help. I hope Nell's case of the shakes has subsided, she was in charge of Music On And Off and had to contend with the clapped out switch on my ipod so she says she got a bit tense! Thank you Nell, you rock. Thanks also to my Dad who took these lovely photos for us.

Los 33

I've just spent the last 2 days pretty much glued to the BBC live feed coverage of the Miners' Rescue. 

(Watching it, of course, stirred memories of another Big Mine Rescue story, Beaconsfield, in 2006.  I  remember watching that live, and counting down the hours beforehand until Brant Webb and Todd Russell were freed.  I remember too how wonderful it was when they walked out of the mine, having stated firmly that they didn't want stretchers or wheelchairs.  And I think it was one of those moments when the country 'came together' as it were, everyone hoping for a happy ending to their ordeal and feeling so glad that it came to be; but I don't think we were as staunchly and overtly patriotic as the Chileans, who burst into their national anthem when the last miner emerged and shouted Chi Chi Chi Le Le Le repeatedly through the 23 hour rescue.  Pretty sure nobody burst into Advance Australia Fair at Beaconsfield, although it's possible someone shouted Aussie Aussie Aussie Oy Oy Oy.)  

I read an article saying that this story resonated so strongly worldwide because it tapped into so many universal fears, particularly fears to do with being trapped: trapped an impossible depth underground, trapped without fresh air, trapped without light or food, and I think chillingly, trapped in a situation where nobody might ever find you.  The rescue coverage was compelling, a good news story that went on and on, and never got boring, or less touching, as you watched man after man emerge from the capsule and re-unite with waiting, anxious families. It was a beautiful, moving story about hope fulfilled.

I thought the rescuers who went down into the mine to help the trapped miners were so brave too, especially the last man who had to wait all alone and strap himself into Fenix 2.  I loved that he gave that last bow to the camera before he clambered awkwardly aboard. 

The Last of the Festival of Cherub

The hostessing is over, just the cleaning up to do.  Hurray.



The last event in the Seventh Annual Festival of Cherub took place this morning: the boys from his class at school, in a park, with fairy bread & honey joys, fruit & chips, and chocolate cake coated with an entire bag of smarties...



Let's not forget also the 7 litres of cordial, which provided a welcome activity in the final half hour of the party when owing to a few disagreements and boyish exuberance we were racking our brains for a something that they could do which would be fun and non-destructive, and the answer turned out to be taking the whole lot of them to the public toilets (because they'd all drunk so much cordial) where there were automatic doors and piped music!

Oh look, baby music!  Hey, it's my turn to push the button.  Oh this one stinks, come and smell!  Let's shut him in there.

Return of the Camper and Fixit's Birthday

Climber returned from school camp this afternoon in one piece and not nearly as tired as he was last year, the only mishaps a nasty bite from a bull-ant and his towel in the lost property pile.  Lots of cuddles all round, and many tales to tell, and all of us happy to be the full family again. Directly we got home from school I ran him a nice hot bubblebath and let him soak off the tiredness and dirt while I deloused him. (One big nit and a lot of eggs, apparently not all other parents went to the effort of checking their kids heads before sending them off to camp *sniff*)

Then it was off to very nice pizzeria for Fixit's birthday dinner...



... where I failed 3 times to get the happy camper in focus.



In a way I think that's quite fitting, because if you're exhausted you don't feel very focussed so it makes sense not to look in focus as well.

School Camp

Climber went off on the bus on Wednesday morning to his School Camp with all the other Grade 3s and 4s.  I pinned the Camp Information Notice on the kitchen noticeboard -as a reminder- weeks and weeks ago, I signed all the slips, I paid all the money, I made sure all the clothes he'd need were clean and dry and put away over the weekend, I sorted through all the available shoes so that I could find 2 pairs that fit him which didn't have holes in them (not as easy as it sounds), I got Climber together with the pile of necessary items, a suitcase and a laundry marking pen two days before he had to leave, and he and I did a preliminary pack together, including laying aside the clothes he'd wear on the day.  All items labeled, all items checked off, or circled if needing follow-up.

And then, on Tuesday night, the last night before Camp, having done all that and everything as ready as can be, I said to Fixit, just as I was about to fly out the door to teach: you need to check the kids for nits and find Climber a torch that works.

At which point I was accused of always leaving everything to the last minute, which meant there was never any margin for error.  I don't think he understands that it's just a case of me knowing my so-called margins.  Fixit is absolutely the sort of person who would have at least one working torch, and also the sort of person who would know where to find said working torch immediately.  (He knows where everything is in his shed.)  I don't need to give him any advance notice of this sort of thing.  Plus, even if by some complete unlikely mishap, like, say, an asteroid hit Fixit's shed, and Fixit Couldn't actually Find A Torch, I still had my pretty purple handbag torch as a grudging back-up.  I have to tell you that I resented that comment, and also that I told him as much.

The fact that I left it until today, the day before Fixit's birthday, to go present shopping for him, is COMPLETELY IRRELEVANT.  There will be items that he likes wrapped in paper and adorned with cards, served with cake on the day, and nobody needs to say anything about margins or last minutes.

Fifteen candles.

Blowing the candle out; Part I.
(Morning celebrations with Grandma and Pa.)



Blowing the candles out; Part II.
(Afternoon celebrations with friends.)



Blowing the candles out; Part III.
(Evening celebrations with Fixit and Nell.)



Verdict:  Best birthday ever.

Still to come: Cupcakes at school, Monday morning, and a party in a park with school friends, next weekend.   The Festival of Cherub seems very big this year, but I suppose you're only seven once.