Dance is a way of expression. It's unlike poetry or song lyrics. It's a way to convey feeling through movements. It's not just artful, it is a art. When you dance, you feel as though you can be anything. You transport to another world, where it's just you and the music.

It's beautiful.

"Mommy, can I have pointe shoes yet?" My six-year old daughter, Charlotte asked, tugging at my pants leg.

I shook my head. "No Lottie, it can damage you feet and we wouldn't like that." I explained. "I'll let you get them when you turn ten." I smiled down at her.

"But that's so far away!" She whined.

I laughed, "Then you'll just have to wait." I patted her head. "Go warm up for class."

I watched as she slipped on her ballet shoes and started warming up by the mirror. I smiled at her.

Charlotte was my pride and joy. She looked just like me except for her eyes, which were an odd mix of green and blue. I used to stare at those eyes and wonder just where she got them from. I had brown eyes, and I know for a fact that her father had brown as well.

Other than her eyes, she looked like an exact carbon copy of my young self.

I watched as other little girls of all ages trickled into the dance studio. I loved to teach dance. It may seem a little exhausting, and some days it is. But, nothing makes me feel better than when I see young girls falling in love with dance just as I had when I was there age.

It was my aunt who taught me how to dance. She would come over to our house and we would perform dances for my parents. She would always go through the dance first to show me what it would look like in the end.

When she showed me ballet, I loved to watch as she moved graceful across the living room floor. When she danced hip hop, her hips swayed to to the beat with feeling. When she tapped, her feet wood move with lightening speed. Whatever she did, she did with emotion.

Soon, I was begging my parents to enroll me in dance classes. They eventually gave in on my 11th birthday.

When I was younger, I always dreamt of becoming a famous dancer. I would dance on America's Talent and eventually Dancing With The Stars.

I was 20 years old when I became pregnant with Charlotte. That's when I stopped dancing to be famous and instead started teaching others to dance. I primarily teach ballet, however some of the older students wanted to broaden their horizons. So, I decided to add some tap, jazz and contemporary into the mix, but I only offer that to older students.

Charlotte practically came out of the womb in ballet shoes. As soon as she could walk, she would start mimicking me when I taught. So, I showed the proper way to hold herself and how to move without getting hurt. Charlotte may be only six years, but she has the makings of a famous dancer. Of course, if she would like to pursue something other than dance in the future, I will support her either way.

"Okay ladies, start warming up at the bar." I called to the girls. They quickly gathered around the bar and started stretching.

I ran into the back and grabbed a hair tie so I could pull my brown hair out of my eyes into a messy bun.

I walked out and saw girls chatting aimlessly and smiled.

"Okay, girls hopefully you have been working out both your plié and your grand jeté." I said, grabbing their attention.

"Okay girls, that was a really good rehearsal. Good job!" I congratulated them. "Now, wait here for your mother to pick you up." I said.

Charlotte ran up to me. "Mommy!"

"Yes Lotte?"

"Can I get pointe shoes now?" She said, emphasizing the word 'now'.

I shook my head again. "No, baby. I'm sorry."

"Fine." She huffed then ran to find her friend, Angelina. Her and Angelina met two years ago and have since been inseparable.

I supervised the girls until there were only two left, Charlotte and Anna.

Anna was a seven year old who was very passionate about ballet. She always tried her hardest when it came to ballet. However, her mother was always late.

Finally, after half an hour of waiting, I finally asked Anna where her mother was.

She just shrugged in response. "I don't know."

I pursed my lips in annoyance. A mother should be there for her child. I could accept this maybe once or twice, but almost every time was unacceptable.

I walked into the back room and grabbed the binder from the back with all the contacts and phone numbers. I grabbed my cell phone from my bag and dialed Anna's mother's phone. It rang three times before her mother finally answered.

"Hello?" I heard her on the other end.

"Hi. This is Gabriella Freeman, your daughter's dance instructor. You were supposed to pick her up half and hour ago." I sputtered into the phone.

I heard a sigh from the other end. "Oh, I forgot about the kid. I'll come get her." Anna's mother groaned then hung up.

I took a deep breath then put my phone away and went out to see Charlotte and Anna. "Okay, I just got off the phone with your mom." I said. "And, she's coming to pick you up."

Anna smiled. "Thank you, Miss Gabby!"

So for about ten minutes, I taught them extra moves that I was planning on showing the class next.

Finally, I saw Anna's mother show up at the door. I walked briskly over to her and said, "Can I talk to you for a second Ms. Richards?"

She pulled her lips into a thin line and sighed, "Fine."

I pulled her into a separate room where Charlotte and Anna wouldn't be able to hear us.

"Ms. Richards, this is unacceptable." I started out with.

"What is?" She asked, slouching and crossing her arms.

"You cannot always be this late."

"Meh, so what? I'm a little tardy, but not everyone is perfect."

I had to restrain myself from slapping her. "Look, you were supposed to be here forty-five minutes ago. Anna really wants to dance, and she is very talented for someone of her age. But, I can't keep staying here until 5:45 when the class ended at five." I said, seething.

"Then I want a refund." Ms. Richards adopted a defensive stance. "I'm pulling her out of this class."

My whole face changed when she said that. "What? No, she loves it here."

"But you said it yourself. I'm always late, and you're clearly a busy woman. So why not just take her out of your class. It's a win-win. I don't have to keep payin' and you don't have to keep staying late."

"It's not a win for her!"

Ms. Richards rolled her eyes. "So? She's seven. She'll find something else."

"But, she loves it here!" I protested.

"Then, you have two options. Either you stop telling me how to parent her and mind your own damn business, or I pull her out of this class. Got it?"

I pulled my lips into a thin line. "Got it."

I stepped aside so Ms. Richards could retrieve the child that she didn't deserve to have.