Dancing in Swedish

Zoe has always loved dancing. Her first steps were moves to music and I remember her laugh as I did a few pirouettes in the kitchen when she was still a baby. She soon tried to imitate them. We dance together in the living room and it is no surprise that she loves it, because so did I. I told my mom I wanted to be a ballet dancer when I was 4. I took classes throughout my childhood, classic ballet, jazz, modern and then back to a few seasons' of classic as an adult. In fact, last time I took a course was when I was pregnant, proudly still jumping in week 27. I couldn't wait until she was two so I could take her to dance class. Last year we went every Sunday to a studio in Gamla Stan where a nice Romanian girl would make sure we all (because parents were dancing with the kids) were having a fun time with hola hoops, drums and most importantly moving our bodies to music. I followed Zoe's lead and quietly told her what the teacher said she should do. She picked most of it up herself through watching.

But the teacher left and I felt it was time to try another studio. I was looking around too late and several studios were already full. But one, which was on the same subway line, had a kids-dance class, one where the kids danced by themselves, with the parents on the side if needed. The season started last Sunday and Zoe and I went excitedly with great expectations, this time Zoe wearing her actual ballet dress and slippers that we had bought in New York.

Zoe trying her ballet outfit in the Capezzio
flagship store in New York

Zoe is a bit shy and I sat down with her at first, noticing that I was the only parent in the ring. The other parents were on the side, encouraging their little outgoing ones to stay and listen to the teacher. Who started talking. Fast and a lot. She was asking the kids questions. Explaining that they had to hold up their hand when their name was called. Asking what they thought their horse was called. Asking if it was a shark, a crocodile or a fish that was swimming in the water. In between there was some running around and jumping, but not much dancing. And a lot of questions that Zoe and even I had a hard time understanding. Zoe clung on to me and kept asking me to come dance, which I eventually did for most of the hour but not without being slightly annoyed that she couldn't do it on her own, as the only kid in the room. But I also know that she was extremely intimidated by the new situation and she kept asking me "mom, what is she saying, what is she saying?" I honestly didn't realize that Zoe knew so little Swedish but on the other hand I wasn't surprised. Her whole world is in English apart from my house and when we go to Denmark. She juggles two languages pretty well and is just now starting to understand the concept of different languages (although she often names them wrong). But Swedish is not one of them.

In the end I asked the teacher if we could switch to the earlier class where the kids dance with the adults. I probably offended her in the same breath by letting her know that, well there was a lot of talk in the class. Unfortunately it is the same teacher in the earlier class and I have to see how Zoe is dealing with it, or if we have to think of something completely different. Because while Swedish might be an option, dancing is not.