Ouch. That seems harsh, R.H. However, I know people who have no money and kids with marginal skills who have made themselves wildly unpopular at the rink. I’m sure you know them, too.
- The future Olympic parent. My basic skills figure skater is going to the Olympics. I can tell. My skater is amazingly talented and dedicated. Athletic ability runs in our family – we’re all gifted and we have our own trophy room. Well, yes, my figure skater’s been in Basic Skills for five years, but she’s pacing herself. Level Four is very, very challenging.
- The solicitor. I hate to be the one to tell you, but as your friend, you should know that your skater’s figure skating coach doesn’t have good skills. She’s a low-level coach. If you’re serious, if your skater is ambitious, if you have a brain, you’ll switch to my daughter’s coach. You know, my skater’s figure skating coach passed her senior level whatevers and is rated a master fabuloso coach. All of her skaters go to nationals, at least twice. If you switched coaches, I’m sure your skater would have that jump by now. But, if you want to throw your money away, go ahead.
- The golden ager. Back in the day, things were just great here. The sun was always shining outside, the ice was perfect, our figure skating club had so much money, everyone loved one another, and skating was practically cost-free. Ah, yes. Those were the days.
- The expert. Judges, coaches, figure skating competition organizers don’t know what they’re doing. My skater is truly amazing, but the judges are against him. I tell you, judging is corrupt here. They’ll take just about anyone and give them a score sheet. Our figure skating coach is nice, but I don’t think that my skater has a tough enough program. I mean, he’s an advanced reader at school and in with students two grade levels above his. The coach should put my skater two levels up, too. He’s smart; he can handle it. And these figure skating competition organizers. Why would they set up the groups this way? Don’t they know that all of these kids are skating down? Didn’t they notice that kid at the last competition? I know he skated at a higher level. They’re stacking the deck on purpose so kids from their club win everything.
- The club critic. If I were on the figure skating club’s board, things would be different. I can’t believe that the board wants us to pay more, volunteer more, and attend mandatory meetings. Isn’t that why we pay club dues? I pay for this, so I shouldn’t be expected to do anything further. That’s for the little people to do. I don’t have time for this. I need to get my nails done.
- The parent of a gifted child. It took my figure skater just one lesson to land an Axel. Isn’t my skater fabulous? She’s only been skating three months and look! She already has her Axel. She’s working on her double Salchow, but, sadly, she only landed six last practice session. Your skater’s been working on her Axel, what? Eight months? Hmm. Yeah. Well, everyone at their own pace, you know. Not all kids are as talented as my skater. But, you know, she comes from a gymnastics and dance background. She was born at the barre, did I tell you? Funny story…
- The agent. These low level figure skaters keep getting in my skater’s way. She can’t land her triple-twisty thing because of all these little kids. You know, she’s the only one who has ever landed that jump in the history of this club/this rink/this region/the world. We should have ice just for her because she’s so amazing. She’s the reason that all these little kids are joining the club, you know. They want to be just like her. The figure skating club should subsidize her skating because she brings so many of these annoying low-level skaters to the rink. She’s put this club on the map.
- The rink stalker. So, who is your figure skater? Let me check my spreadsheet of all the skaters my daughter has ever competed against. Was she at this figure skating competition? Oh, yes, I see. It was last fall, No Test, and your skater placed third. Her scores were: 3, 3, 4, 3, 2. My daughter placed second out of eight skaters in that group. Want to see the photo? And two years ago, at that same competition, your daughter placed fifth in Basic 5. That time there were only five kids in the event. Oh, and here’s the photo. See? There’s my kid on the stand…
- The sidelines parent/coach. Get your arms up, skater! Pull your legs in. That’s it. Now drop and give me five sit spins. Alright. Do your program. Quit wasting time! That program was terrible. Do it again. Watch me. This is how you should move your legs. I don’t care if your coach said something else. This is my money we’re talking about. Don’t whine to me about your pain. Wipe your nose, toughen up, and get moving.
- The dream-on parent. Look, coach, I want my figure skater to place first at the figure skating competition next month. My skater should have new music and move up a level, too. No, no. I don’t have time to bring my skater to the rink for more lessons and practice. We can only get here every other Thursday, but this Thursday won’t work and neither will the next two.
The blogger. My husband has zero taste in music. Can you believe he wants our kid to figure skate to horror movie soundtracks? I should blog about him. My kid won't wake up. She's passed out in the van and people in the rink are waiting for her. I should blog about my kid, too. And you? Yeah, you in the blue. Don't tick me off, lady, 'cause I'll blog about you, too!
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