"You are not coaches. You are parents": advice from Liza's mother for those who are hesitating

The series "A conversation with a champion's mother", part 6 of 6. ← Previous part

The final part of our conversation with Anna, Liza Sahalai's mother, is the most practical. About trusting a teacher, about why a champion's family did not move to Kyiv, and about the questions every mother asks herself outside the doors of a dance studio.

Trust that began with a refusal

The family's trust in Yuniia Furman began paradoxically — with Yuniia refusing to take Liza. The two-year-old's parents were told honestly: too early, come back later.

"Then and now, it is the same trait: her honesty and openness," says Anna. "If something is wrong, it is always talked through. And once she said something to me that stayed with me: 'Ania, if I ever have nothing left to give Liza, I will say so openly.'"

Another quality Anna values separately: Yuniia does not pull the blanket over to her own side. When a routine needs another professional's eye, she recommends it herself: "A choreographer's work is like handwriting: whatever pen you use, you can see the same person wrote it. Yuniia understands that and isn't afraid to bring in someone from outside — for the child's development. There can be many professionals, but that combination of a professional and a wonderful human being is something else."

Why not Kyiv

A question the family is asked regularly: why is a child at this level training in Irpin rather than at a studio in the capital, "where the serious ones are taken"?

Anna's answer is about Yuniia again: "If the moment comes when she has nothing left to give Liza, she will say so. But knowing her hunger to learn, I don't think that will happen in the next few years. When it isn't only the child developing but the people teaching her too, those are two parallel lines that will never cross. They simply rise together."

"My child has no special ability. Is there any point?"

We put this question to Anna bluntly — because she was once in the position of a mother who was hesitating.

"Definitely try. What a mother or the people around see is not always what is really in a child and what a professional can see. Without trying, you cannot know," she says.

The second half of the answer is about listening: "It matters enormously to hear your child. Does she not want to because she genuinely doesn't like it, or because she simply can't be bothered? If it's 'I can't be bothered', that is exactly the moment to instil the discipline dance and sport in general provide. And if a child says 'I don't even want to try' — again: hear your child."

Asked what she would say to her own past self, taking her daughter to that first class, Anna answers without a pause: "You made the right choice."

How not to become "sports parents"

And the main piece of advice — for those whose child has just started and is having their first successes. How do you support them without "come on, come on, where's the medal"?

"I'll say only one thing: carry on simply raising a small child. Simply love her the same way you loved her before her road in dance began," says Anna. "You are not coaches, you are not choreographers. However you loved your child, carry on loving them that way. Everything else will be done for you by people who are professionals at it."

In Liza's family that is not a slogan but daily practice: her parents hug their daughter the same way after a win and after a defeat, do not pick apart her mistakes (there are professionals for that) and know their role precisely. "We separated it very clearly for ourselves: we are not second coaches. We are parents. We are support," Anna concludes.

That was the final part of the series "A conversation with a champion's mother". It begins with "You must be raising a ballerina", and Liza's full road is in "Liza's road". The conversation was conducted by Kateryna Badikova; quotes lightly edited for readability.

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