Have you ever experienced the grandeur of a ball?
While modern times see people socializing and dancing at pubs and nightclubs, attending balls was once a significant cultural affair. Men showcased their elegance in stylish tuxedos and lavish materials, while women adorned themselves in corsets and voluminous dresses.
Even in our futuristic present, the tradition of dancing in ballrooms wearing extravagant ball gowns hasn’t vanished. In fact, various organizations organize events dedicated to commemorating this historical era centered around ball dancing, and one such notable occasion is the Stanford Viennese Ball.
The Stanford Viennese Ball, as described on its website, stands as an exhilarating Stanford institution, featuring social dance, live music, performances, and lively contests. Originating in 1978, the ball was driven by students who had completed the Stanford-in-Austria program and were inspired by the grand balls in Vienna, Austria.
The inaugural event, held in Toyon Hall, witnessed the enthusiastic participation of 350 students, marking the beginning of a tradition that has since evolved into a formal affair eagerly anticipated by students. The excitement is palpable as attendees revel in the opportunity to don freshly ironed suits, dresses, and gloves.
A highlight of the event is the opening dance, meticulously curated by the Stanford Viennese Ball Opening Committee. The opening song captivates the audience with its impressive harmony and synchronicity. Men don black suits, while ladies grace the scene in white silk dresses and gloves, executing multiple lifts and quick spins that leave the audience in awe.
The opening committee’s performance is a spectacle that never has a dull moment, featuring a series of captivating maneuvers that seamlessly flow from one to the next. Witness the charm and entertainment of their act below!
I’m a second-grade teacher, and some days, my students teach me the most important lessons.
The morning sun streamed through the classroom windows, casting a warm glow on the colorful drawings and neatly arranged desks. But the brightness couldn’t quite chase away the cloud that settled over my second-grade class when Lily walked in, her small face etched with a sadness that seemed too heavy for her young shoulders.
As we began our morning routine, the usual chatter and rustling of papers faded into an uneasy silence. Lily, her voice trembling, announced to the room, “My parents are going to court today. For custody.”
Her words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the complexities that even the youngest among us face. “I’m scared they’re going to make me choose,” she whispered, her eyes brimming with tears.
My heart ached for her. I wanted to scoop her up and shield her from the pain, but all I could do was offer a reassuring smile and a gentle hug. “It’s going to be okay, Lily,” I murmured, trying to keep my voice steady. “We’re here for you.”
I gently steered the class towards our morning activity, hoping to provide a brief distraction, a moment of normalcy amidst the turmoil. But the weight of Lily’s words lingered, a quiet undercurrent of worry that permeated the room.
A while later, I noticed Lily huddled near the cubbies, her small frame shaking with sobs. She was tightly embracing another student, a boy named Noah, whose own eyes were filled with tears. Alarmed, I rushed over, fearing something had happened.
But as I approached, I saw a small, crumpled note clutched in Lily’s hand. I gently unfolded it, and my breath caught in my throat. In Noah’s shaky, uneven handwriting, it read:
“Don’t worry. Whatever happens, it’s in God’s hands.”
The simplicity and profound wisdom of those words struck me like a physical blow. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I had to turn away for a moment, overwhelmed by the depth of compassion these two young children displayed.
In that moment, I realized that I wasn’t just teaching these children; they were teaching me. They were showing me the true meaning of empathy, the power of faith, and the unwavering strength of human connection.
Noah, in his innocent understanding, had offered Lily the only comfort he knew, a reminder that even in the face of uncertainty, there was something bigger than their fears. Lily, in her vulnerability, had allowed herself to be comforted, trusting in the sincerity of her friend’s words.
As I drove home that day, my heart was full, my eyes still damp with tears. I was so proud of the small, loving community we had built in our classroom, a sanctuary where even the most vulnerable felt safe and supported.
These children, barely old enough to tie their own shoes, had shown me that the greatest wisdom often resides in the smallest hearts. They reminded me that even in a world filled with complexity and pain, there is always room for compassion, for faith, and for the unwavering power of love. And that some of the greatest lessons in life, are taught by the ones we least expect.
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