There is a new girl in my class. Her name is Emma. She used to do ballet when she was four years old. I don't know why she had stopped. She might be now nine or eight years old like me. She quickly understood the dance instructions. There are two teachers: one of the teacher's name is Emma too. The new girl, even kind of looks like the Emma teacher, except the girl is not a redhead. We call the teacher "Miss Emma" and the new girl, just "Emma."
We practiced part of the dance performance by grabbing different size balls, one for each dancer, and running across the room by gradually lifting the ball slowly up over our heads while the music plays. We run on our tippie-toes very lightly, so we don't make any sound with our feet. We are pretending that the balls are planets. The dance is about creation and what God created.
The difficult part is in the timing of the exercises in general, going too fast or too slow. The music goes slower or faster, and we follow the teacher's dance moves as she is standing on the side of the room. We can see her in the big wall mirror, no matter which way we are standing. Sometimes the teacher uses the mirror to write the French ballet words. She can erase it easily from the mirror.