By Michaela DePrince;Elaine DePrince
Hope in a Ballet Shoe tells the tale of Michaela DePrince. growing to be up in war-torn Sierra Leone, she witnesses atrocities that no baby ever should still. Her father is killed through rebels and her mom dies of famine. despatched to an orphanage, Michaela is mistreated and he or she sees the brutal homicide of her favorite teacher.
Michaela and her ally are followed via an American couple and Michaela starts off to take dance classes. yet existence within the States is not with no problems. regrettably, tragedy can locate its strategy to Michaela in the US, too, and her previous can consider like it truly is haunting her. the area of ballet is a racist one, and Michaela has to struggle for a spot among the ballet elite, listening to the phrases 'America's no longer prepared for a black woman ballerina.'
And but . . . this present day, Michaela DePrince is a world ballet superstar, dancing for The Dutch nationwide Ballet on the age of 19. this can be a heart-breaking, inspiring autobiography through who...
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Extra resources for Hope in a Ballet Shoe. Orphaned by war, saved by ballet: an extraordinary true story
Example text
I hurried to claim my food, and I immediately noticed that my bowl was not as full as most of the others had been. I looked at Mabinty Suma’s bowl. Her bowl was only a bit fuller than mine, as was the bowl of Number Twenty-Five, Mariama Kargbo. I understood that it was not a good thing to be Number Twenty-Seven, because the rice ran out by the time the aunties got to the last girl. When I turned with my bowl in my hands, I saw Mabinty Suma wave to me. ‘Mabinty Bangura, come eat with me,’ she said.
I nodded my head, and he looked at my uncle and said, ‘This child shows great promise. Our orphanage is full, but I will make room for her under one condition. ’ ‘I have no intention of doing that,’ Uncle Abdullah said. ’ Then the man invited us into a small room where he gave my uncle some papers to sign. The papers were in English, which my uncle could not read, so the man read them to him and translated them into Krio as I waited quietly and listened carefully. Many of the words were too complicated for me to understand, but I did get the gist of the papers’ content.
I peered through the wrought-iron gate, hoping that someone would come to take me away. Just then I was slapped in the face. ‘Ugh! ’ I exclaimed, but it wasn’t trash at all. I had been attacked by the pages of a magazine. The magazine was stuck in the gate, exactly where my face had been. I reached my hand through and grabbed it. It was filled with shiny pages printed with pictures of white people. I squinted to look at it, though I was nearly blinded by the dust. I grabbed Mabinty Suma, and together we ran to the shelter of a tree.