Discretion is the better part of valor
When we went riding yesterday, we ran into one of our old equine science classmates, who now is the head of the program from which we got our instructor certificates. She's gradually been morphing into a total DQ--a dressage queen--and our recent limited interactions with her point to an even higher degree of divadom. First off, we heard less and less from her over the past couple of years, unless it was to ask us to perform various volunteering efforts for the several events the university equine science program hold every year. And not even that until a very short time before the actual event.
So we began to decline for both reasons, lack of social time outside of the horse world and being called on short term. We have lives, you know. Since then we've seen even less of her, until this past weeekend. We made some small talk about the horses we were riding, and she had some somewhat blithe comments about Arabs in general (hollow and high headed), despite the fact that breed stereotyping is passe. The she mentioned to Christine that the previous head left under less than pleasant circumstances. I didn't hear this portion of the conversation as I'd already started warming up and was lost in concentration ("seat? leg? hand? half-halt?"). I guess our old classmate had some less than glowing things to say--in her own polite, well-bred way--about the old head of the program, who also happens to be our current instructor.
After, as we trucked home, we talked about the conversation and pondered the need for our old classmate to specifically mention to us that there had been a falling out of sorts, knowing we still train with the person who was the target of these comments. As a professional, shouldn't the classmate be bound to be more discreet for the sake of the program? Why tell us at all? Why not just answer the question (our trainer teaching us lessons at the arena) that spurred the conversation in a straight manner? We were both disappointed and disquieted. Our instructor headed the program for many, many years, and hell, it couldn't have been that bad--all three of us came out of the program!
We get the feeling that we are somewhat viewed as lesser riders because we have our one or two horses and ride in our spare time, rather than totally immersed in the scene--as well as being priviledged enough to make trips to Europe to train with classical dressage guys!--it's not anything direct, just an air, the way things are said and name-dropped. Again, playing 'who's the best rider' is so passe, it's just so unnecessary to make those comparisons. Aren't we all striving to improve? Aren't we all in it for the interest of the horse? Christine and I know exactly where we're at on the training scale, and we all have vastly different goals, not to mention resources. It's a pointless exercise.
The exchange was just sadly disappointing and served only to drive the wedge even further between us dressage for every horse people backyard riders and the emerging uber-diva. Who looked like she was struggling with the counter-canter, anyways (Snark! sorry, if you are going to talk up your ascent up the levels, then ride like it). Sarah, come back from DQ land and ride with us again! Remember the old war cry: "Dressage for every horse!"
So we began to decline for both reasons, lack of social time outside of the horse world and being called on short term. We have lives, you know. Since then we've seen even less of her, until this past weeekend. We made some small talk about the horses we were riding, and she had some somewhat blithe comments about Arabs in general (hollow and high headed), despite the fact that breed stereotyping is passe. The she mentioned to Christine that the previous head left under less than pleasant circumstances. I didn't hear this portion of the conversation as I'd already started warming up and was lost in concentration ("seat? leg? hand? half-halt?"). I guess our old classmate had some less than glowing things to say--in her own polite, well-bred way--about the old head of the program, who also happens to be our current instructor.
After, as we trucked home, we talked about the conversation and pondered the need for our old classmate to specifically mention to us that there had been a falling out of sorts, knowing we still train with the person who was the target of these comments. As a professional, shouldn't the classmate be bound to be more discreet for the sake of the program? Why tell us at all? Why not just answer the question (our trainer teaching us lessons at the arena) that spurred the conversation in a straight manner? We were both disappointed and disquieted. Our instructor headed the program for many, many years, and hell, it couldn't have been that bad--all three of us came out of the program!
We get the feeling that we are somewhat viewed as lesser riders because we have our one or two horses and ride in our spare time, rather than totally immersed in the scene--as well as being priviledged enough to make trips to Europe to train with classical dressage guys!--it's not anything direct, just an air, the way things are said and name-dropped. Again, playing 'who's the best rider' is so passe, it's just so unnecessary to make those comparisons. Aren't we all striving to improve? Aren't we all in it for the interest of the horse? Christine and I know exactly where we're at on the training scale, and we all have vastly different goals, not to mention resources. It's a pointless exercise.
The exchange was just sadly disappointing and served only to drive the wedge even further between us dressage for every horse people backyard riders and the emerging uber-diva. Who looked like she was struggling with the counter-canter, anyways (Snark! sorry, if you are going to talk up your ascent up the levels, then ride like it). Sarah, come back from DQ land and ride with us again! Remember the old war cry: "Dressage for every horse!"
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