Why we have a safety pin limit
137
Safety Pins Later: A Studio Story
137 Pins, One Fort, and a Studio Economy
Safety pins may be
small, but in a dance studio they can cause big adventures.
Read how 137 safety pins
led to an accidental real-estate development project, a new classroom currency,
and a very long afternoon.
📙A Brief
History of Safety Pins
Before this story
continues, allow me one completely unnecessary safety pin fact.
Safety pins were
invented in 1849 by a man named Walter Hunt, who supposedly created them to
help pay off a debt. Imagine being so inconvenienced by owing money that you
accidentally invent one of the most useful little objects ever made.
His design included
the covered clasp and coiled spring that we're all familiar with today, and
remarkably, it hasn't changed much since.
Which is impressive
for an object most of us only notice when we desperately need one.
🎶Why
Safety Pins Matter in the Studio
Now, why am I giving
you a history lesson that will undoubtedly take up unnecessary space in your
brain?
Because in any dance
studio, safety pins are worth their weight in gold.
Whether it's
temporarily fixing costumes, fastening skirts, pinning up decorations, or
rescuing something that has decided to fall apart five minutes before class,
they're indispensable.
In our studio, they're
practically sacred.
I never used to give
safety pins much thought. They pinned things up, together, or in place. End of
story.
That is, until one
rainy day.
Before I continue, let
me explain something.
I teach at a primary
school in the afternoons, so the children don't have to be driven from school
to the studio. They simply walk to the hall from whichever classroom they survived the day in.
It's usually an easy
trek. Usually.
But that's another
story.
This arrangement means
the children often wait around for their own ballet lesson to begin. Some have
extra-curricular activities, but plenty spend the time playing outside or doing
homework.
Rainy days, however,
trap everybody indoors.
And that's when things get interesting.
As with most school
halls, ours is roughly three-quarters hall and one-quarter stage.
We mostly stick to the
hall because it's bigger and easier to move the barres around. Only
occasionally do we use the stage for performance practice.
This leaves the stage
empty and available for whatever adventures children decide to take.
The students
especially love the wings, although they have since learned not to swing on
them, which was something I thought was obvious but Sia proves me wrong with Chandelier.
So rainy days usually
mean students on the stage, in the wings, and generally wherever they shouldn't
be.
🧷The Great Safety Pin Incident
Now, what does this
have to do with safety pins?
Well, no matter how
hard I try, whenever I give a student a safety pin and tell them to keep it for
future use, they lose it.
Every.
Single.
Time.
How do you lose a
safety pin the minute you take off the skirt it was holding together?
I literally had my eye
on it, blinked, and it was gone.
"What safety
pin, Miss Zoraya?"
Cue eye twitch.
🕐How It
Started
When two students
asked for a few safety pins one rainy day, I was curious but not suspicious.
Then another student
asked for three.
Okay. Maybe it's just
one of those days. The kind where half the students forget their pointe
shoes, somebody keeps tripping, socks mysteriously disappear, everyone
apparently needs a Band-Aid, and common sense takes a personal day.
But then a group of
three students asked for seven safety pins.
Seven.
My brain was not happy
with that oddly specific number.
Now I was suspicious.
A student or two? Maybe. Six students in one hour?
No.
I was in the middle of
class, though, and couldn't stop to investigate. The interruptions were already
breaking our rhythm.
Eventually I left the
box out for them to help themselves.
I know what you're
thinking.
Why didn't you just
say no?
Honestly, irritation
was voting yes, but curiosity won.
What on earth could
they be doing with so many safety pins? No screams. No crying. Don't you want
to see what happens?
So I didn't say no.
Then their lesson time arrived. Where were these safety pin devouring children?
Nowhere in sight.
I turned around to start setting up for class. When I turned back, five students were standing directly behind me.
Smiling.
Creepily.
Kids are creepy, man.
There's no sugar-coating it.
Their reason for the
smiles?
"We have
something to show you, Miss Zoraya."
Alright, I thought. This is it.
It was an okay life.
Didn't think I'd be
taken out by children, but here we are.
I just wish I'd had a last meal.
They led me to the stage and performed a full ta-da with jazz hands in front of the wings.
It took me a moment to
understand what exactly I was supposed to be looking at.
Then I saw it.
They had used safety
pins to fasten all the wings together into a fort.
Not two wings.
All of them.
And so.
Many.
Safety pins.
"Why?"
"We used the
safety pins to close the holes so the light wouldn't shine into our homes, Miss
Zoraya."
Lovely.
🕕How It
Ended
Guess who spent an hour removing safety pins?
I'll give you a hint.
Not the construction
workers who installed them.
Every time I thought
I'd found the last pin, another one appeared like:
"Looking for
me?"
One hundred and
thirty-seven safety pins later, I was questioning several life choices.
Yes, I counted.
After all that unfair
labour, I looked at the wings.
Although they look
completely normal to everybody else, I know the truth.
They'll never be the
same.
💳Setting
the Safety Pin Limit
So now we have a
safety pin limit.
Two per person per month. Extras only in emergencies.
A good thing did come from the incident, though. Students no longer lose the safety pins they're given.
In fact, they've
turned them into a form of studio currency.
I've overheard
negotiations such as:
"I'll give you
two safety pins to switch places at the barre."
Or:
"I'll let you
borrow my character shoes for six safety pins."
Honestly, that seems a
little cheap to me.
I once walked in on a
group of younger students sitting in a circle with a pile of safety pins in the
middle.
It looked like some
major business deal was taking place.
I chose not to ask
questions.
Sometimes ignorance is
a gift.
In a way, safety pins
have become even more valuable in our studio than before.
And now I keep extra
safety pins hidden where the students can't find them.
You know.
Just in case.
💭Reflection: Chaos, Creativity, and Currency
If the Great Safety
Pin Incident taught me anything, it's that you should never underestimate
children armed with tiny bits of metal.
Give them enough time
and enough safety pins and they'll build forts, create an economy, and probably
establish their own government.
I still can't look at
a box of safety pins without wondering what construction project is being
planned behind my back.
Yes, the incident cost
me 137 safety pins and an hour of my life.
But somewhere
underneath all the chaos was a reminder of why I love teaching.
Children see
possibilities where adults see ordinary objects.
I saw a box of safety
pins.
They saw building
materials.
The safety pin limit
may protect my sanity, but I suspect those students are still one rainy day
away from their next great engineering project.
And honestly?
That's probably why
teaching them is never boring.
💬 What’s the funniest or most ingenious ‘hack’ you’ve witnessed in a classroom or studio?
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