MARK MY WORD: SKATING ON THIN ICE, LESSONS IN FALLING DOWN

I've always thought of ice skating as ballet on skates. It's majestic the way the skaters sail across the rink. You've seen the artistry of Olympic skaters as they glided across our television sets.

Well, I've got news for you. They didn't start that way.

I found that out when Joni and I signed our daughter up for beginning skating lessons this summer.

Becca had seen those Olympic skaters on television and even had a Barbie skater. What more incentive is there than that?

She told us she wanted to take lessons. She was ready for the ice, or so she said. We figured it was just the start of all the lessons and practices that turn parents into taxi drivers.

She and two other young girls are in the beginning class. Each week they gingerly take to the ice in sweaters and mittens.

Football pads might be more appropriate.

You fall about a billion times in a 30-minute lesson, which is why you need plenty of padding.

The instructor's job is to see if she can keep the kids on their feet and get them to take a few steps without falling.

As supporting parents, we clap for everything. Even falls can be pretty spectacular.

I'm convinced that people like Nancy Kerrigan become good skaters for one simple reason: It's a lot less painful than crashing to the ice all the time.

A typical lesson goes something like this:

Instructor: "OK, girls. Let's march. Pick up your feet. Keep your hands out and your head up."

These instructions are repeated constantly as the girls slip and slide their way across the ice. Just standing still is an accomplishment.

Becca has learned how to get back up, as have the other girls. That's particularly important since falling is a major skill at this level.

Becca has discovered that the best way to turn around is to fall to the ice and slide around until you are facing the opposite direction.

When you are 3, you don't have as far to fall.

"Good job," I yell out, offering all the fatherly encouragement I can as she stands on the ice looking down at her feet and trying to keep her balance.

I can't give Becca much help, considering I majored in falling down the one and only time I went skating when I was a kid.

I can't even roller skate. Joni used to insist that everyone can roller skate. But she changed her mind after dragging me to a roller rink a few years ago.

After she and some friends of ours managed to get me in an upright position, I quickly found my feet going out from under me.

Within minutes, I had turned the rink into a demolition derby. I managed to knock over enough people to fill a hospital emergency room.

Fifteen minutes of this was enough to convince even my friends. "You're right. You can't roller skate," they said in unison as we made a quick exit from the rink. I believe several teen-agers applauded.

Despite her heritage, I'm convinced Becca will do just fine.

After all, I never had an instructor advising me on the finer points of skating.

"Arms up, chin up and smile," she tells the kids. "And for good measure, keep your listening ears on," she adds.

Come to think of it, that advice sounds pretty good off the ice, too.

~Mark Bliss is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.