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Day In The Life Of A Street Dance Teacher: Competition Edition

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Day In The Life Of A Street Dance Teacher: Competition Edition

Danielle Bull

May 21 2025

5 min read

Day In The Life Of A Street Dance Teacher: Competition Edition

Danielle Bull

May 21 2025

5 min read

Day In The Life Of A Street Dance Teacher: Competition Edition

Danielle Bull

May 21 2025

5 min read

Beep, beep, beep — 6am Bright and early. On a Sunday. And I’m awake.
Why?

Because it’s competition day.

Last night, I fell asleep with choreography, checklists, and the unmistakable beat of my team's music looping through my head.

Ten weeks. Gone in the blink of an eye. And now? It all comes down to this.

One dance studio.
One teacher.
Two teams.
Twenty kids.
One Street Dance Competition.

All of their hard work. The hours spent sweating in the studio. Listening to the same music — over and over and over and over again.

All of it leading to today.

The Street Dance Competition.

Let’s go.

Beep, beep, beep — 6am Bright and early. On a Sunday. And I’m awake.
Why?

Because it’s competition day.

Last night, I fell asleep with choreography, checklists, and the unmistakable beat of my team's music looping through my head.

Ten weeks. Gone in the blink of an eye. And now? It all comes down to this.

One dance studio.
One teacher.
Two teams.
Twenty kids.
One Street Dance Competition.

All of their hard work. The hours spent sweating in the studio. Listening to the same music — over and over and over and over again.

All of it leading to today.

The Street Dance Competition.

Let’s go.

Beep, beep, beep — 6am Bright and early. On a Sunday. And I’m awake.
Why?

Because it’s competition day.

Last night, I fell asleep with choreography, checklists, and the unmistakable beat of my team's music looping through my head.

Ten weeks. Gone in the blink of an eye. And now? It all comes down to this.

One dance studio.
One teacher.
Two teams.
Twenty kids.
One Street Dance Competition.

All of their hard work. The hours spent sweating in the studio. Listening to the same music — over and over and over and over again.

All of it leading to today.

The Street Dance Competition.

Let’s go.

Beep, beep, beep — 6am Bright and early. On a Sunday. And I’m awake.
Why?

Because it’s competition day.

Last night, I fell asleep with choreography, checklists, and the unmistakable beat of my team's music looping through my head.

Ten weeks. Gone in the blink of an eye. And now? It all comes down to this.

One dance studio.
One teacher.
Two teams.
Twenty kids.
One Street Dance Competition.

All of their hard work. The hours spent sweating in the studio. Listening to the same music — over and over and over and over again.

All of it leading to today.

The Street Dance Competition.

Let’s go.

Beep, beep, beep — 6am Bright and early. On a Sunday. And I’m awake.
Why?

Because it’s competition day.

Last night, I fell asleep with choreography, checklists, and the unmistakable beat of my team's music looping through my head.

Ten weeks. Gone in the blink of an eye. And now? It all comes down to this.

One dance studio.
One teacher.
Two teams.
Twenty kids.
One Street Dance Competition.

All of their hard work. The hours spent sweating in the studio. Listening to the same music — over and over and over and over again.

All of it leading to today.

The Street Dance Competition.

Let’s go.

8am to 9:30am - Arrival At The Comp & Pre-Performance

With both of our competition times scheduled before 10 am, we needed to get to the venue with plenty of time to spare.

And good job we did. It gave us time to soak in the incredible atmosphere. Meet up with our teams. Do final checks and more.

Upon arrival, the adrenaline and excitement (and the nerves) were coursing through everyone — dancers, their parents, and me (though I wasn’t about to let them see my nerves, just my excited vibes).

Dancers turned up with hair out of place, parents with a million questions, and some dancers stressing about their steps

We corralled all the dancers, parents, and their bags and supplies into one section of the vast (and hugely busy) hall where we could warm up, stretch, and run through one final rehearsal.

The kids sprang into action. Hair was adjusted. Steps were rehearsed and warm-ups completed.

While my brain was juggling what felt like a million things:

Headcounts — Are all the kids here? Are we missing anyone? Has someone snuck off to the toilet?
Listening out — Have the coordinators announced our team yet? Is it time to head to the holding pen? (This was made even trickier by the terrible microphone that somehow makes every voice sound like it’s coming from underwater.)
Questions, questions, questions — I had students and parents approaching me nonstop, asking everything from:
- “Miss, can we go through that step again?”
- “Miss, is my hair okay?”
- to “I really like your eyelashes — where do you get them done?”
And on top of that, I was trying to catch a glimpse of the competition — the teams we’d be up against.

So to say that this part of the day, between 8am and 9:30am, was hectic would be putting it kindly.

Would I change it for the world? Not at all - it’s all part of it.

I was already bursting with pride at the children, how they were holding themselves, and I knew, regardless of the result. That we would have the BEST time.

But before I knew it, it was time for my first group to perform. As the message came over the awful microphone, “Can all teams who are competing in the under-14s beginners make their way to the holding zone?”

It was time. The kids made their way to where they needed to be. I gave them the final words of encouragement, hyped them up, and reminded them how AMAZING they are. And it was time.

8am to 9:30am - Arrival At The Comp & Pre-Performance

With both of our competition times scheduled before 10 am, we needed to get to the venue with plenty of time to spare.

And good job we did. It gave us time to soak in the incredible atmosphere. Meet up with our teams. Do final checks and more.

Dancers turned up with hair out of place, parents with a million questions, and some dancers stressing about their steps

We corralled all the dancers, parents, and their bags and supplies into one section of the vast (and hugely busy) hall where we could warm up, stretch, and run through one final rehearsal.

The kids sprang into action. Hair was adjusted. Steps were rehearsed and warm-ups completed.

While my brain was juggling what felt like a million things:

Headcounts — Are all the kids here? Are we missing anyone? Has someone snuck off to the toilet?
Listening out — Have the coordinators announced our team yet? Is it time to head to the holding pen? (This was made even trickier by the terrible microphone that somehow makes every voice sound like it’s coming from underwater.)
Questions, questions, questions — I had students and parents approaching me nonstop, asking everything from:
- “Miss, can we go through that step again?”
- “Miss, is my hair okay?”
- to “I really like your eyelashes — where do you get them done?”
And on top of that, I was trying to catch a glimpse of the competition — the teams we’d be up against.

So to say that this part of the day, between 8am and 9:30am, was hectic would be putting it kindly.

Would I change it for the world? Not at all - it’s all part of it.

I was already bursting with pride at the children, how they were holding themselves, and I knew, regardless of the result. That we would have the BEST time.

It was time. The kids made their way to where they needed to be. I gave them the final words of encouragement, hyped them up, and reminded them how AMAZING they are. And it was time.

8am to 9:30am - Arrival At The Comp & Pre-Performance

With both of our competition times scheduled before 10 am, we needed to get to the venue with plenty of time to spare.

And good job we did. It gave us time to soak in the incredible atmosphere. Meet up with our teams. Do final checks and more.

Dancers turned up with hair out of place, parents with a million questions, and some dancers stressing about their steps

We corralled all the dancers, parents, and their bags and supplies into one section of the vast (and hugely busy) hall where we could warm up, stretch, and run through one final rehearsal.

The kids sprang into action. Hair was adjusted. Steps were rehearsed and warm-ups completed.

While my brain was juggling what felt like a million things:

Headcounts — Are all the kids here? Are we missing anyone? Has someone snuck off to the toilet?
Listening out — Have the coordinators announced our team yet? Is it time to head to the holding pen? (This was made even trickier by the terrible microphone that somehow makes every voice sound like it’s coming from underwater.)
Questions, questions, questions — I had students and parents approaching me nonstop, asking everything from:
- “Miss, can we go through that step again?”
- “Miss, is my hair okay?”
- to “I really like your eyelashes — where do you get them done?”
And on top of that, I was trying to catch a glimpse of the competition — the teams we’d be up against.

So to say that this part of the day, between 8am and 9:30am, was hectic would be putting it kindly.

Would I change it for the world? Not at all - it’s all part of it.

I was already bursting with pride at the children, how they were holding themselves, and I knew, regardless of the result. That we would have the BEST time.

It was time. The kids made their way to where they needed to be. I gave them the final words of encouragement, hyped them up, and reminded them how AMAZING they are. And it was time.

8am to 9:30am - Arrival At The Comp & Pre-Performance

With both of our competition times scheduled before 10 am, we needed to get to the venue with plenty of time to spare.

And good job we did. It gave us time to soak in the incredible atmosphere. Meet up with our teams. Do final checks and more.

Dancers turned up with hair out of place, parents with a million questions, and some dancers stressing about their steps

We corralled all the dancers, parents, and their bags and supplies into one section of the vast (and hugely busy) hall where we could warm up, stretch, and run through one final rehearsal.

The kids sprang into action. Hair was adjusted. Steps were rehearsed and warm-ups completed.

While my brain was juggling what felt like a million things:

Headcounts — Are all the kids here? Are we missing anyone? Has someone snuck off to the toilet?
Listening out — Have the coordinators announced our team yet? Is it time to head to the holding pen? (This was made even trickier by the terrible microphone that somehow makes every voice sound like it’s coming from underwater.)
Questions, questions, questions — I had students and parents approaching me nonstop, asking everything from:
- “Miss, can we go through that step again?”
- “Miss, is my hair okay?”
- to “I really like your eyelashes — where do you get them done?”
And on top of that, I was trying to catch a glimpse of the competition — the teams we’d be up against.

So to say that this part of the day, between 8am and 9:30am, was hectic would be putting it kindly.

Would I change it for the world? Not at all - it’s all part of it.

I was already bursting with pride at the children, how they were holding themselves, and I knew, regardless of the result. That we would have the BEST time.

It was time. The kids made their way to where they needed to be. I gave them the final words of encouragement, hyped them up, and reminded them how AMAZING they are. And it was time.

8am to 9:30am - Arrival At The Comp & Pre-Performance

With both of our competition times scheduled before 10 am, we needed to get to the venue with plenty of time to spare.

And good job we did. It gave us time to soak in the incredible atmosphere. Meet up with our teams. Do final checks and more.

Dancers turned up with hair out of place, parents with a million questions, and some dancers stressing about their steps

We corralled all the dancers, parents, and their bags and supplies into one section of the vast (and hugely busy) hall where we could warm up, stretch, and run through one final rehearsal.

The kids sprang into action. Hair was adjusted. Steps were rehearsed and warm-ups completed.

While my brain was juggling what felt like a million things:

Headcounts — Are all the kids here? Are we missing anyone? Has someone snuck off to the toilet?
Listening out — Have the coordinators announced our team yet? Is it time to head to the holding pen? (This was made even trickier by the terrible microphone that somehow makes every voice sound like it’s coming from underwater.)
Questions, questions, questions — I had students and parents approaching me nonstop, asking everything from:
- “Miss, can we go through that step again?”
- “Miss, is my hair okay?”
- to “I really like your eyelashes — where do you get them done?”
And on top of that, I was trying to catch a glimpse of the competition — the teams we’d be up against.

So to say that this part of the day, between 8am and 9:30am, was hectic would be putting it kindly.

Would I change it for the world? Not at all - it’s all part of it.

I was already bursting with pride at the children, how they were holding themselves, and I knew, regardless of the result. That we would have the BEST time.

It was time. The kids made their way to where they needed to be. I gave them the final words of encouragement, hyped them up, and reminded them how AMAZING they are. And it was time.

9:45am - Performance 1

There is no feeling like watching your students perform in front of judges.

It reminded me of how I felt when I was that age performing. Yeah, it was exciting, but oh my goodness was I scared, nervous, excited for them. (You name the emotion, I was probably feeling it.)

At this point, I had done everything I possibly could to prepare them:

They knew their steps.
I’d hyped them up and got their energy sky-high.
The music was prepped.
Hair, makeup, and costumes? All on point.

I handed my phone to a parent to film the whole thing and stood behind the judges' table, ready to encourage them, the kids that is, not the judges, provide as many cheers and hollers as possible, and prompt them if they needed me to.

Then came the most exhilarating, proudest 2 minutes of my life.

Watching the kids out there — absolutely kill it — was just... incredible.

And my goodness, did they deliver.

They moved as one. They brought energy. They brought passion. They executed every step with poise and precision. Some of them really stepped up, taking it to the next level, hyping the audience, filling spaces in the choreography like pros.

Even the judges were dancing.

Then came the final beat. The end poses. The in-sync march off the stage.

And just like that, it was over.

While they didn’t perform every step perfectly. There were mistakes. But. To Me.

They performed perfectly. All the imperfections, missed steps, spacing etc. Didn’t matter.

What mattered is that they went out on that stage and they gave it their ALL.

9:45am - Performance 1

There is no feeling like watching your students perform in front of judges.

It reminded me of how I felt when I was that age performing. Yeah, it was exciting, but oh my goodness was I scared, nervous, excited for them. (You name the emotion, I was probably feeling it.)

At this point, I had done everything I possibly could to prepare them:

They knew their steps.
I’d hyped them up and got their energy sky-high.
The music was prepped.
Hair, makeup, and costumes? All on point.

Then came the most exhilarating, proudest 2 minutes of my life.

Watching the kids out there — absolutely kill it — was just... incredible.

And my goodness, did they deliver.

Even the judges were dancing.

Then came the final beat. The end poses. The in-sync march off the stage.

And just like that, it was over.

While they didn’t perform every step perfectly. There were mistakes. But. To Me.

They performed perfectly. All the imperfections, missed steps, spacing etc. Didn’t matter.

What mattered is that they went out on that stage and they gave it their ALL.

9:45am - Performance 1

There is no feeling like watching your students perform in front of judges.

It reminded me of how I felt when I was that age performing. Yeah, it was exciting, but oh my goodness was I scared, nervous, excited for them. (You name the emotion, I was probably feeling it.)

At this point, I had done everything I possibly could to prepare them:

They knew their steps.
I’d hyped them up and got their energy sky-high.
The music was prepped.
Hair, makeup, and costumes? All on point.

Then came the most exhilarating, proudest 2 minutes of my life.

Watching the kids out there — absolutely kill it — was just... incredible.

And my goodness, did they deliver.

Even the judges were dancing.

Then came the final beat. The end poses. The in-sync march off the stage.

And just like that, it was over.

While they didn’t perform every step perfectly. There were mistakes. But. To Me.

They performed perfectly. All the imperfections, missed steps, spacing etc. Didn’t matter.

What mattered is that they went out on that stage and they gave it their ALL.

9:45am - Performance 1

There is no feeling like watching your students perform in front of judges.

It reminded me of how I felt when I was that age performing. Yeah, it was exciting, but oh my goodness was I scared, nervous, excited for them. (You name the emotion, I was probably feeling it.)

At this point, I had done everything I possibly could to prepare them:

They knew their steps.
I’d hyped them up and got their energy sky-high.
The music was prepped.
Hair, makeup, and costumes? All on point.

Then came the most exhilarating, proudest 2 minutes of my life.

Watching the kids out there — absolutely kill it — was just... incredible.

And my goodness, did they deliver.

Even the judges were dancing.

Then came the final beat. The end poses. The in-sync march off the stage.

And just like that, it was over.

While they didn’t perform every step perfectly. There were mistakes. But. To Me.

They performed perfectly. All the imperfections, missed steps, spacing etc. Didn’t matter.

What mattered is that they went out on that stage and they gave it their ALL.

9:45am - Performance 1

There is no feeling like watching your students perform in front of judges.

It reminded me of how I felt when I was that age performing. Yeah, it was exciting, but oh my goodness was I scared, nervous, excited for them. (You name the emotion, I was probably feeling it.)

At this point, I had done everything I possibly could to prepare them:

They knew their steps.
I’d hyped them up and got their energy sky-high.
The music was prepped.
Hair, makeup, and costumes? All on point.

Then came the most exhilarating, proudest 2 minutes of my life.

Watching the kids out there — absolutely kill it — was just... incredible.

And my goodness, did they deliver.

Even the judges were dancing.

Then came the final beat. The end poses. The in-sync march off the stage.

And just like that, it was over.

While they didn’t perform every step perfectly. There were mistakes. But. To Me.

They performed perfectly. All the imperfections, missed steps, spacing etc. Didn’t matter.

What mattered is that they went out on that stage and they gave it their ALL.

9:50am Post Performance

The moment I locked eyes with the group. It was a moment of pure elation.

When I say I ran to them, I mean ran — hurtling across the venue, pride and happiness written all over my face.

I hugged them. They hugged me.

They were bouncing. I was bouncing. It was a complete, joyful cacophony of noise:

“Miss, did you see? Did you see?”
“Miss, even the judges were dancing!”
“What did you think of the part when we…?”

And me, yelling back just as excitedly:

“You killed it!”
“You’ve done it!”
“I’m so proud of you!”
“Yes, I saw that — it looked amazing!”

One of the happiest moments of my life.

And the best bit?

I got to do it all again with my older group…

9:50am Post Performance

The moment I locked eyes with the group. It was a moment of pure elation.

When I say I ran to them, I mean ran — hurtling across the venue, pride and happiness written all over my face.

I hugged them. They hugged me.

They were bouncing. I was bouncing. It was a complete, joyful cacophony of noise:

“Miss, did you see? Did you see?”
“Miss, even the judges were dancing!”
“What did you think of the part when we…?”

And me, yelling back just as excitedly:

“You killed it!”
“You’ve done it!”
“I’m so proud of you!”
“Yes, I saw that — it looked amazing!”

One of the happiest moments of my life.

And the best bit?

I got to do it all again with my older group…

9:50am Post Performance

The moment I locked eyes with the group. It was a moment of pure elation.

When I say I ran to them, I mean ran — hurtling across the venue, pride and happiness written all over my face.

I hugged them. They hugged me.

They were bouncing. I was bouncing. It was a complete, joyful cacophony of noise:

“Miss, did you see? Did you see?”
“Miss, even the judges were dancing!”
“What did you think of the part when we…?”

And me, yelling back just as excitedly:

“You killed it!”
“You’ve done it!”
“I’m so proud of you!”
“Yes, I saw that — it looked amazing!”

One of the happiest moments of my life.

And the best bit?

I got to do it all again with my older group…

9:50am Post Performance

The moment I locked eyes with the group. It was a moment of pure elation.

When I say I ran to them, I mean ran — hurtling across the venue, pride and happiness written all over my face.

I hugged them. They hugged me.

They were bouncing. I was bouncing. It was a complete, joyful cacophony of noise:

“Miss, did you see? Did you see?”
“Miss, even the judges were dancing!”
“What did you think of the part when we…?”

And me, yelling back just as excitedly:

“You killed it!”
“You’ve done it!”
“I’m so proud of you!”
“Yes, I saw that — it looked amazing!”

One of the happiest moments of my life.

And the best bit?

I got to do it all again with my older group…

9:50am Post Performance

The moment I locked eyes with the group. It was a moment of pure elation.

When I say I ran to them, I mean ran — hurtling across the venue, pride and happiness written all over my face.

I hugged them. They hugged me.

They were bouncing. I was bouncing. It was a complete, joyful cacophony of noise:

“Miss, did you see? Did you see?”
“Miss, even the judges were dancing!”
“What did you think of the part when we…?”

And me, yelling back just as excitedly:

“You killed it!”
“You’ve done it!”
“I’m so proud of you!”
“Yes, I saw that — it looked amazing!”

One of the happiest moments of my life.

And the best bit?

I got to do it all again with my older group…

9:55am - Performance 2

All too soon, I heard it again — the call for my team to make their way to the holding area:

"Can all teams competing in the Under-16s Beginners please make your way to the holding zone?"

It was time.

Just like with the first group, I gave them the final words of encouragement, and reminded them that they could do it.

I handed my phone to someone to film the performance.
I took my spot behind the judges' table.

I had done everything I could to prepare them.
It was all down to them and their performance.
I was filled to the brim with pride.

And once more… They killed it.

We had flips. Drops. Jumps. Shuffles. Tricks.

Their performance had everything — all packed into their allotted time.

They didn’t miss a beat. They delivered.

They brought the energy.
The passion.
And then — just like that — it was over.

They held their final poses and exited the stage.

Jumping and hollering, we celebrated.

This was it. This was what all those hours in the studio had been for.

Happiness. The excitement. The pride in them, from them, from me — it was intoxicating.

Were there imperfections? Of course. Was it perfect to me? 100%. They gave it their all - and at the end of the day, that’s all I can ask for.

Once again, a joyful cacophony of praise and jubilation:

“Miss, we did it!”
“Miss, we killed it — we brought the energy!”
“What did you think, Miss? Do you think they liked it?”

And me, yelling back just as loud:

“YES! You killed it!”
“I’m SO proud of you!”
“Do you even know how amazing you just were?!”

On and on it went.

And when the two teams saw each other again…
Well.

You can imagine — more screams, more hugs, more joy.

9:55am - Performance 2

All too soon, I heard it again — the call for my team to make their way to the holding area:

"Can all teams competing in the Under-16s Beginners please make your way to the holding zone?"

It was time.

Just like with the first group, I gave them the final words of encouragement, and reminded them that they could do it.

I handed my phone to someone to film the performance.
I took my spot behind the judges' table.

I had done everything I could to prepare them.
It was all down to them and their performance.
I was filled to the brim with pride.

And once more… They killed it.

We had flips. Drops. Jumps. Shuffles. Tricks.

Their performance had everything — all packed into their allotted time.

They didn’t miss a beat. They delivered.

They brought the energy.
The passion.
And then — just like that — it was over.

They held their final poses and exited the stage.

Jumping and hollering, we celebrated.

This was it. This was what all those hours in the studio had been for.

Happiness. The excitement. The pride in them, from them, from me — it was intoxicating.

Were there imperfections? Of course. Was it perfect to me? 100%. They gave it their all - and at the end of the day, that’s all I can ask for.

Once again, a joyful cacophony of praise and jubilation:

“Miss, we did it!”
“Miss, we killed it — we brought the energy!”
“What did you think, Miss? Do you think they liked it?”

And me, yelling back just as loud:

“YES! You killed it!”
“I’m SO proud of you!”
“Do you even know how amazing you just were?!”

On and on it went.

And when the two teams saw each other again…
Well.

You can imagine — more screams, more hugs, more joy.

9:55am - Performance 2

All too soon, I heard it again — the call for my team to make their way to the holding area:

"Can all teams competing in the Under-16s Beginners please make your way to the holding zone?"

It was time.

Just like with the first group, I gave them the final words of encouragement, and reminded them that they could do it.

I handed my phone to someone to film the performance.
I took my spot behind the judges' table.

I had done everything I could to prepare them.
It was all down to them and their performance.
I was filled to the brim with pride.

And once more… They killed it.

We had flips. Drops. Jumps. Shuffles. Tricks.

Their performance had everything — all packed into their allotted time.

They didn’t miss a beat. They delivered.

They brought the energy.
The passion.
And then — just like that — it was over.

They held their final poses and exited the stage.

Jumping and hollering, we celebrated.

This was it. This was what all those hours in the studio had been for.

Happiness. The excitement. The pride in them, from them, from me — it was intoxicating.

Were there imperfections? Of course. Was it perfect to me? 100%. They gave it their all - and at the end of the day, that’s all I can ask for.

Once again, a joyful cacophony of praise and jubilation:

“Miss, we did it!”
“Miss, we killed it — we brought the energy!”
“What did you think, Miss? Do you think they liked it?”

And me, yelling back just as loud:

“YES! You killed it!”
“I’m SO proud of you!”
“Do you even know how amazing you just were?!”

On and on it went.

And when the two teams saw each other again…
Well.

You can imagine — more screams, more hugs, more joy.

9:55am - Performance 2

All too soon, I heard it again — the call for my team to make their way to the holding area:

"Can all teams competing in the Under-16s Beginners please make your way to the holding zone?"

It was time.

Just like with the first group, I gave them the final words of encouragement, and reminded them that they could do it.

I handed my phone to someone to film the performance.
I took my spot behind the judges' table.

I had done everything I could to prepare them.
It was all down to them and their performance.
I was filled to the brim with pride.

And once more… They killed it.

We had flips. Drops. Jumps. Shuffles. Tricks.

Their performance had everything — all packed into their allotted time.

They didn’t miss a beat. They delivered.

They brought the energy.
The passion.
And then — just like that — it was over.

They held their final poses and exited the stage.

Jumping and hollering, we celebrated.

This was it. This was what all those hours in the studio had been for.

Happiness. The excitement. The pride in them, from them, from me — it was intoxicating.

Were there imperfections? Of course. Was it perfect to me? 100%. They gave it their all - and at the end of the day, that’s all I can ask for.

Once again, a joyful cacophony of praise and jubilation:

“Miss, we did it!”
“Miss, we killed it — we brought the energy!”
“What did you think, Miss? Do you think they liked it?”

And me, yelling back just as loud:

“YES! You killed it!”
“I’m SO proud of you!”
“Do you even know how amazing you just were?!”

On and on it went.

And when the two teams saw each other again…
Well.

You can imagine — more screams, more hugs, more joy.

9:55am - Performance 2

All too soon, I heard it again — the call for my team to make their way to the holding area:

"Can all teams competing in the Under-16s Beginners please make your way to the holding zone?"

It was time.

Just like with the first group, I gave them the final words of encouragement, and reminded them that they could do it.

I handed my phone to someone to film the performance.
I took my spot behind the judges' table.

I had done everything I could to prepare them.
It was all down to them and their performance.
I was filled to the brim with pride.

And once more… They killed it.

We had flips. Drops. Jumps. Shuffles. Tricks.

Their performance had everything — all packed into their allotted time.

They didn’t miss a beat. They delivered.

They brought the energy.
The passion.
And then — just like that — it was over.

They held their final poses and exited the stage.

Jumping and hollering, we celebrated.

This was it. This was what all those hours in the studio had been for.

Happiness. The excitement. The pride in them, from them, from me — it was intoxicating.

Were there imperfections? Of course. Was it perfect to me? 100%. They gave it their all - and at the end of the day, that’s all I can ask for.

Once again, a joyful cacophony of praise and jubilation:

“Miss, we did it!”
“Miss, we killed it — we brought the energy!”
“What did you think, Miss? Do you think they liked it?”

And me, yelling back just as loud:

“YES! You killed it!”
“I’m SO proud of you!”
“Do you even know how amazing you just were?!”

On and on it went.

And when the two teams saw each other again…
Well.

You can imagine — more screams, more hugs, more joy.

10am - 12pm: A Waiting Game

With our performances behind us, we left the chaos of the main floor and headed upstairs to one of the balconies overlooking the arena. It gave us a bird’s-eye view of the competition — but more importantly, it gave us a moment to breathe. (And the much-needed coffee.)

The kids were buzzing. Still full of adrenaline. The parents, so full of pride in what their children had accomplished.

We took the time to debrief — to eat, hydrate, laugh, and soak in what we’d just done. It was a chance for me to check in with them all.

I spoke to a few dancers who had really stepped it up — the ones who had surprised even themselves. We started to gently plant the seed: next year, solos? Duos? Trios?

As we sat, we watched the rest of the competition unfold — age group by age group, level by level. But then, slowly, the nerves started to creep back in.

Even though every dancer goes home with a medal, and even though this was our first time performing on a stage like this, we all wanted to do well.

We had done our part. Now, it was in the judges’ hands.

And so we waited.

10am - 12pm: A Waiting Game

The kids were buzzing. Still full of adrenaline. The parents, so full of pride in what their children had accomplished.

We took the time to debrief — to eat, hydrate, laugh, and soak in what we’d just done. It was a chance for me to check in with them all.

I spoke to a few dancers who had really stepped it up — the ones who had surprised even themselves. We started to gently plant the seed: next year, solos? Duos? Trios?

As we sat, we watched the rest of the competition unfold — age group by age group, level by level. But then, slowly, the nerves started to creep back in.

Even though every dancer goes home with a medal, and even though this was our first time performing on a stage like this, we all wanted to do well.

We had done our part. Now, it was in the judges’ hands.

And so we waited.

10am - 12pm: A Waiting Game

The kids were buzzing. Still full of adrenaline. The parents, so full of pride in what their children had accomplished.

We took the time to debrief — to eat, hydrate, laugh, and soak in what we’d just done. It was a chance for me to check in with them all.

I spoke to a few dancers who had really stepped it up — the ones who had surprised even themselves. We started to gently plant the seed: next year, solos? Duos? Trios?

As we sat, we watched the rest of the competition unfold — age group by age group, level by level. But then, slowly, the nerves started to creep back in.

Even though every dancer goes home with a medal, and even though this was our first time performing on a stage like this, we all wanted to do well.

We had done our part. Now, it was in the judges’ hands.

And so we waited.

10am - 12pm: A Waiting Game

The kids were buzzing. Still full of adrenaline. The parents, so full of pride in what their children had accomplished.

We took the time to debrief — to eat, hydrate, laugh, and soak in what we’d just done. It was a chance for me to check in with them all.

I spoke to a few dancers who had really stepped it up — the ones who had surprised even themselves. We started to gently plant the seed: next year, solos? Duos? Trios?

As we sat, we watched the rest of the competition unfold — age group by age group, level by level. But then, slowly, the nerves started to creep back in.

Even though every dancer goes home with a medal, and even though this was our first time performing on a stage like this, we all wanted to do well.

We had done our part. Now, it was in the judges’ hands.

And so we waited.

10am - 12pm: A Waiting Game

The kids were buzzing. Still full of adrenaline. The parents, so full of pride in what their children had accomplished.

We took the time to debrief — to eat, hydrate, laugh, and soak in what we’d just done. It was a chance for me to check in with them all.

I spoke to a few dancers who had really stepped it up — the ones who had surprised even themselves. We started to gently plant the seed: next year, solos? Duos? Trios?

As we sat, we watched the rest of the competition unfold — age group by age group, level by level. But then, slowly, the nerves started to creep back in.

Even though every dancer goes home with a medal, and even though this was our first time performing on a stage like this, we all wanted to do well.

We had done our part. Now, it was in the judges’ hands.

And so we waited.

2pm: The Results Are In

As the results for our section were about to be announced, we made our way back down into the main hall, stepping straight into a barrage of noise and excitement.

The atmosphere?

Electric.

The nerves?

Surprisingly… not as bad as I’d expected. Because deep down, I knew how well my dancers had performed. I’d seen it with my own eyes. I felt it.

But still, this was the moment. The official verdict. The one that mattered to them. The one they’d worked for. Sweated for. Gave up their Bank Holiday Monday for.

The results were in.

As they began calling out placements —
10th…
9th…
8th…

We all huddled together, hands squeezed, breath held.

When were we going to be called?

7th…
6th…

Not us.

We stared wide-eyed at each other. Not us yet.
Could it be…?

5th place…

Our older group.

YES!
They placed 5th in their first Street Dance competition AND qualified for the European Championships.

Cue the screaming. The jumping. The tears. The pride.

And our younger team?

THIRD PLACE.

We screamed so loud, I’m pretty sure the judges flinched.
And yes, not only third place but also…

QUALIFIED FOR THE WORLD CHAMPIONSHIPS.

The Worlds.
Let that sink in.

That moment? Unreal.
We were crying, shouting, laughing, and beaming from ear to ear. The celebrations were infectious.

Two teams.
First-ever street dance competition.
Both qualified — one for Euros, one for Euros AND Worlds.

This wasn’t just a result.
This was a testament to their dedication. Their unity. Their passion.

2pm: The Results Are In

As the results for our section were about to be announced, we made our way back down into the main hall, stepping straight into a barrage of noise and excitement.

The atmosphere?

Electric.

The nerves?

Surprisingly… not as bad as I’d expected. Because deep down, I knew how well my dancers had performed. I’d seen it with my own eyes. I felt it.

But still, this was the moment. The official verdict. The one that mattered to them. The one they’d worked for. Sweated for. Gave up their Bank Holiday Monday for.

The results were in.

As they began calling out placements —
10th…
9th…
8th…

We all huddled together, hands squeezed, breath held.

When were we going to be called?

7th…
6th…

Not us.

We stared wide-eyed at each other. Not us yet.
Could it be…?

5th place…

Our older group.

YES!
They placed 5th in their first Street Dance competition AND qualified for the European Championships.

Cue the screaming. The jumping. The tears. The pride.

And our younger team?

THIRD PLACE.

We screamed so loud, I’m pretty sure the judges flinched.
And yes, not only third place but also…

QUALIFIED FOR THE WORLD CHAMPIONSHIPS.

The Worlds.
Let that sink in.

That moment? Unreal.
We were crying, shouting, laughing, and beaming from ear to ear. The celebrations were infectious.

Two teams.
First-ever street dance competition.
Both qualified — one for Euros, one for Euros AND Worlds.

This wasn’t just a result.
This was a testament to their dedication. Their unity. Their passion.

2pm: The Results Are In

As the results for our section were about to be announced, we made our way back down into the main hall, stepping straight into a barrage of noise and excitement.

The atmosphere?

Electric.

The nerves?

Surprisingly… not as bad as I’d expected. Because deep down, I knew how well my dancers had performed. I’d seen it with my own eyes. I felt it.

But still, this was the moment. The official verdict. The one that mattered to them. The one they’d worked for. Sweated for. Gave up their Bank Holiday Monday for.

The results were in.

As they began calling out placements —
10th…
9th…
8th…

We all huddled together, hands squeezed, breath held.

When were we going to be called?

7th…
6th…

Not us.

We stared wide-eyed at each other. Not us yet.
Could it be…?

5th place…

Our older group.

YES!
They placed 5th in their first Street Dance competition AND qualified for the European Championships.

Cue the screaming. The jumping. The tears. The pride.

And our younger team?

THIRD PLACE.

We screamed so loud, I’m pretty sure the judges flinched.
And yes, not only third place but also…

QUALIFIED FOR THE WORLD CHAMPIONSHIPS.

The Worlds.
Let that sink in.

That moment? Unreal.
We were crying, shouting, laughing, and beaming from ear to ear. The celebrations were infectious.

Two teams.
First-ever street dance competition.
Both qualified — one for Euros, one for Euros AND Worlds.

This wasn’t just a result.
This was a testament to their dedication. Their unity. Their passion.

2pm: The Results Are In

As the results for our section were about to be announced, we made our way back down into the main hall, stepping straight into a barrage of noise and excitement.

The atmosphere?

Electric.

The nerves?

Surprisingly… not as bad as I’d expected. Because deep down, I knew how well my dancers had performed. I’d seen it with my own eyes. I felt it.

But still, this was the moment. The official verdict. The one that mattered to them. The one they’d worked for. Sweated for. Gave up their Bank Holiday Monday for.

The results were in.

As they began calling out placements —
10th…
9th…
8th…

We all huddled together, hands squeezed, breath held.

When were we going to be called?

7th…
6th…

Not us.

We stared wide-eyed at each other. Not us yet.
Could it be…?

5th place…

Our older group.

YES!
They placed 5th in their first Street Dance competition AND qualified for the European Championships.

Cue the screaming. The jumping. The tears. The pride.

And our younger team?

THIRD PLACE.

We screamed so loud, I’m pretty sure the judges flinched.
And yes, not only third place but also…

QUALIFIED FOR THE WORLD CHAMPIONSHIPS.

The Worlds.
Let that sink in.

That moment? Unreal.
We were crying, shouting, laughing, and beaming from ear to ear. The celebrations were infectious.

Two teams.
First-ever street dance competition.
Both qualified — one for Euros, one for Euros AND Worlds.

This wasn’t just a result.
This was a testament to their dedication. Their unity. Their passion.

2pm: The Results Are In

As the results for our section were about to be announced, we made our way back down into the main hall, stepping straight into a barrage of noise and excitement.

The atmosphere?

Electric.

The nerves?

Surprisingly… not as bad as I’d expected. Because deep down, I knew how well my dancers had performed. I’d seen it with my own eyes. I felt it.

But still, this was the moment. The official verdict. The one that mattered to them. The one they’d worked for. Sweated for. Gave up their Bank Holiday Monday for.

The results were in.

As they began calling out placements —
10th…
9th…
8th…

We all huddled together, hands squeezed, breath held.

When were we going to be called?

7th…
6th…

Not us.

We stared wide-eyed at each other. Not us yet.
Could it be…?

5th place…

Our older group.

YES!
They placed 5th in their first Street Dance competition AND qualified for the European Championships.

Cue the screaming. The jumping. The tears. The pride.

And our younger team?

THIRD PLACE.

We screamed so loud, I’m pretty sure the judges flinched.
And yes, not only third place but also…

QUALIFIED FOR THE WORLD CHAMPIONSHIPS.

The Worlds.
Let that sink in.

That moment? Unreal.
We were crying, shouting, laughing, and beaming from ear to ear. The celebrations were infectious.

Two teams.
First-ever street dance competition.
Both qualified — one for Euros, one for Euros AND Worlds.

This wasn’t just a result.
This was a testament to their dedication. Their unity. Their passion.

That’s A Wrap

What. A. Day.
What an experience. What a journey.

My heart?
Bursting with pride.
My mind? Playing it all on a loop — every second, every smile, every step.
I want to relive it again, and again, and again.

As I drove away, I felt it all catch up to me.

Tears in my eyes.
Cheeks sore from smiling too much.
Voice hoarse from cheering.
Heart? So, so full.

This is why I do it.
This is why I spend late nights choreographing, give up my weekends, squeeze rehearsals into already packed schedules, and say "yes" even when I'm exhausted.

For moments like this.

For the joy.
For growth.
For the kids, who show me, time and time again, just how powerful dance can be.

And you know what?

Next year?
Next year can’t come soon enough.

That’s A Wrap

What. A. Day.
What an experience. What a journey.

My heart?
Bursting with pride.
My mind? Playing it all on a loop — every second, every smile, every step.
I want to relive it again, and again, and again.

As I drove away, I felt it all catch up to me.

Tears in my eyes.
Cheeks sore from smiling too much.
Voice hoarse from cheering.
Heart? So, so full.

This is why I do it.
This is why I spend late nights choreographing, give up my weekends, squeeze rehearsals into already packed schedules, and say "yes" even when I'm exhausted.

For moments like this.

For the joy.
For growth.
For the kids, who show me, time and time again, just how powerful dance can be.

And you know what?

Next year?
Next year can’t come soon enough.

That’s A Wrap

What. A. Day.
What an experience. What a journey.

My heart?
Bursting with pride.
My mind? Playing it all on a loop — every second, every smile, every step.
I want to relive it again, and again, and again.

As I drove away, I felt it all catch up to me.

Tears in my eyes.
Cheeks sore from smiling too much.
Voice hoarse from cheering.
Heart? So, so full.

This is why I do it.
This is why I spend late nights choreographing, give up my weekends, squeeze rehearsals into already packed schedules, and say "yes" even when I'm exhausted.

For moments like this.

For the joy.
For growth.
For the kids, who show me, time and time again, just how powerful dance can be.

And you know what?

Next year?
Next year can’t come soon enough.

That’s A Wrap

What. A. Day.
What an experience. What a journey.

My heart?
Bursting with pride.
My mind? Playing it all on a loop — every second, every smile, every step.
I want to relive it again, and again, and again.

As I drove away, I felt it all catch up to me.

Tears in my eyes.
Cheeks sore from smiling too much.
Voice hoarse from cheering.
Heart? So, so full.

This is why I do it.
This is why I spend late nights choreographing, give up my weekends, squeeze rehearsals into already packed schedules, and say "yes" even when I'm exhausted.

For moments like this.

For the joy.
For growth.
For the kids, who show me, time and time again, just how powerful dance can be.

And you know what?

Next year?
Next year can’t come soon enough.

That’s A Wrap

What. A. Day.
What an experience. What a journey.

My heart?
Bursting with pride.
My mind? Playing it all on a loop — every second, every smile, every step.
I want to relive it again, and again, and again.

As I drove away, I felt it all catch up to me.

Tears in my eyes.
Cheeks sore from smiling too much.
Voice hoarse from cheering.
Heart? So, so full.

This is why I do it.
This is why I spend late nights choreographing, give up my weekends, squeeze rehearsals into already packed schedules, and say "yes" even when I'm exhausted.

For moments like this.

For the joy.
For growth.
For the kids, who show me, time and time again, just how powerful dance can be.

And you know what?

Next year?
Next year can’t come soon enough.