They are really cute ❤😂

All time favorite 😊❤🎉

All time favorite 😊🎉❤

Good job guys 👏👏👏🤩🤩🤩

Good job

Omg this is the best

What were the names of the people in this number?

Yaaaay!!!!!! 👏👏👏

Okay lady’s !!!!🤩🤩👏👏👏

girl in orange shorts and black shirt is really good

Talk can we rally to get Taylor swift to watch this!!

Good job y’all 🤩🤩🫶

The girl in the white bra is sooo good!!❤️❤️❤️

this is so beautiful❤❤

Omg yall look so good!!!

this is really great!

😍😍😍😍 so so so worth the wait

What place did they come?

Very nice job to ALL the dancers. Great performance! I was impressed

The one girl stole the show, amazing facials and great dance!

*Promo sm* 😩

Nice! May I know the title of the song when the Prince enter the stage? Cool!

Why is no one noticing this video? It definitely deserves more recognition 👏🏼

Please help me ,whats the name of artist and song when Nala dance ? 4:19 in the video ?

Happy Halloween!! 👻 🎃

whats that first song?

Buen trabajo!!!! El próximo año lo representaremos en mi instituto en España

Wow! Amazing!

Hi! My friend and I are doing a lion king hip hop production for our school and love the audio for your mufasa death scene. Did you guys create that audio yourself or did you find it somewhere else?

Simply beautiful!

Congratulations!!!

Bare Feet what??

Thank you for posting this. I saw this at a competition and told everyone how amazing the dance and the message was.

I stumbled into the world of dance before I could ever form a syllable. It was my sisters’ recital, taking place less than a month after I was born, and I like to imagine I somehow soaked in my destiny in those moments. Somewhere among the blurring of rhinestones and stage lights, I found the magic. I’d soon crawl, then walk, then flit around our living room, replicating every movement I’d seen on that stage to varying success rates. And as those first few years came and went, one of the few things to remain constant was my insistent need to find that spotlight for myself. At that time, I had no idea what life awaited me once I’d finally take my fateful steps into a dance studio. The wonderful, challenging, rewarding, devastating, defining chaos that would come along my adventures on the stage. But after years of begging and attempts at tapping in my tennis shoes across our kitchen floor, my actual journey with dance began. I was five at the time, beginning dance class and kindergarten within weeks of each other, and though all of these new things could’ve so easily been overwhelming, for me, it was heaven. Tap shoes and Ballet slippers and standing on my number in front of a vast mirror became the highlight of each week. As the only boy in the class, I knew that I stood out. Being the lone blue t-shirt and black shorts in a sea of pink leotards and tulle made that obvious. But I was never made to feel lesser than, or like I didn’t belong. I felt celebrated and encouraged, and like I was following the path my destiny had laid out years before. Still, despite finding this safe haven, I guarded this passion as a secret like my chance at ultimate happiness in life depended on it. I wouldn’t dare admit I was a dancer, whether it was to an acquaintance upon our first meeting or a play date with my best friends. I would cross my fingers behind my back and lie to their face, putting on the façade of a soccer player. My room was designed to match on the off chance someone else might see it, with soccer ball lights and paraphernalia to match. I don’t know why it had to be that way. Whether it was intuition or overheard commentary, I knew better than to let them know the truth, classmates and adults alike. I think that might be the saddest part of my story, that I as a five year old knew I had to deflect their ridicule before they were even given the chance. But all while I was becoming the imaginary soccer star my room would depict, dance encompassed my entire life. I was once again begging my parents, this time to join a competition team, and by the time I was in third grade, I was enjoying the fruits of my labor. And so the years went on, my love of dance growing even more exponentially than my height. Just as my skills as a dancer excelled, so did my ability to deflect any questions or suspicions. Dance was my dirty little secret, an ugly, shiny scar on the palest of flesh that I’d do anything to keep from exposing to the sunlight. I justified this existence by spinning the story to seem like I was living a double life, because that just made it seem so much cooler. My persona would meet people at school, and my soul would make friends at dance. It was always so much easier to be honest with people there, because they already saw past my biggest secret by its very nature. They might not quite get what I was going through, but they were the closest of anyone. The treasure of being a performer is being able to smile through everything, and boy did I know how to wear that mask. When my two lives would cross, I’d get this burning sensation behind my ears. I’d feel the heat rise to my cheeks, and my chest swell, and my stomach drop to the deepest, darkest depths possible. My heart would beat so fast that it would suddenly be all I could hear, while all I could see were flashing warning signs on my desperate attempt to find an escape. STOP! CAUTION! DANGER AHEAD! Maybe someone from my school would start to take classes at my studio and see me in the hallway, or maybe their little sister joined my competition team and they were in the audience for our latest performance. When they’d bring it up, everything would suddenly be in slow motion, like I could see every little fractal of my chaos flying around me, every damaging piece of debris inches apart, and I’d move as rapidly as I could to protect myself from any collision. I tried so hard, and for so long, I was so good at it. I was so good at keeping all of my broken little fragments apart. But eventually, one piece crashed into another, and the collateral was exactly what I expected. I was exposed, and they all knew the truth about me. I was a joke. To this day, I am thankful for the people who held my hands, even when I possibly could’ve drowned us all. They were shocked how little they actually knew me after years, and yet they didn’t walk away. Thank God for those saints. Unfortunately, when your passion is something that isn’t viewed as normal, those people might be few and far between. I was ostracized, immediately and impeccably. Each morning on my way to school, I’d make myself sick over the day I knew awaited me. I could hear their laughter as I walked down the hallway, my shoulders slumped over as I caught wind of their latest rumor. Alone I sat at lunch, silently praying for the day to be over. I was spit on. I was told to go die on multiple occasions. I had people I’d trusted attempt to beat me up, then share their video of the altercation for all their friends to laugh at, because I’m just not the kind of person to strike back. A person can only be pushed so much until they start to question everything. How can something bring you so much internal joy, yet bring you so much external pain? Why did I love something that others didn’t understand, and judged, and left me abandoned over? Why was I left all alone in this eternal midnight? I was jaded with it all, and I absolutely hated that. I hated how they made me feel. There was a time when the biggest stars in the world were dancers, like Fred Astaire and Gene Kelly. And they were lauded for their talent and dedication to their craft, not ridiculed because, put simply, “boys don’t dance.” What changed, and when, and why? But through all that time, all that heartache, all that questioning, dance was there for me. It stood by my side and held me up to stand taller than ever before. It wiped their spit from my cheeks, erased the bruises from their punches, whispered my worth into my ears over and over again until I actually began to believe it, and believe me, that took a long time. And it wasn’t the trophies, or the medals around my neck, or the compliments from teachers or judges that built me back up, though their kindness was certainly appreciated. It was actually dancing that healed me. It was the feeling I’d get when working over and over on a new piece of choreography in the studio, in the sweaty, breathless moments that were physically excruciating but soulfully fulfilling. It was the heat of the stage lights beaming down, my costumes drenched with my perseverance, my smile consistent no matter how dry my throat might become. It was in everything. Dancing might break my bones, sprain my ligaments, bruise my flesh. But it didn’t hurt me. I suddenly became aware of this, and the moment I did, everything changed. I drowned out their condemnations with the pounding of my tap shoes and the thunderous applause for each performance, and I just genuinely smiled through my labored breath. I didn’t hide my truth, because no one should ever have to bury their passion at the very bottom of their dresser drawer. I’ve built an empire out of what was once guilt, and I’m able to teach dancers of all ages, of all genders, of all backgrounds. I teach them to be confident in themselves, and to rise above, and how important it is to be accepting and to build each other up. And there are days that are easier than others. Some times I’m cheering as loud as possible from the curtains, and some times, I can’t help but revisit my days of putting on a different kind of performance. But in those moments, I think back to the boy I once was, and I think of the things I would tell him. I’d tell him that I’ve learned to never, ever, be ashamed of the thing that makes you happiest in life. Other people don’t need to understand you, or understand what you do. If they don’t support you, they’re inconsequential. To this day, I still face the ridicule. I hear it in the chuckling of TV news anchors, and I see it in the faces of strangers who ask what I do for a living, and I sense it when someone doesn’t want to register at my studio simply because I’m a guy. You just can’t put the value of yourself in the actions and opinions of others, especially if they’d do anything to hold you back from truly shining. Find your spotlight, and thrive, and even if that seems unattainable, just keep pushing forward. I’m so hopeful for the day others might not have to stare down the same obstacles along this path, and that they won’t be raked over the coals simply for not following what is declared to be normal. Still, I’ve grown to be thankful for every single trial, because they brought me to right here. I was a dancer the moment I was born into this world, and I’ll remain a dancer until I’m pushing up daisies.

Go girl!!!

Y’all killed this!!!!

A

This dance is phenomenal!!!

Love this!!💕❤️🌸

Yes sugar spice n everything nice perfect girls cenecel x

who*

how wrote this song? I can't find it

mp3 file please. Thanks

So adorableeeee !!!

💙💛💙💛💙 gets me everytime!!

I’m dead 😂😂😂 this is the best thing everrrrrr #sdapride!

Last year my school did this for the great dance competition! I was Drizella! We also used different dances

ADDIE you dance so perfectly 😍

this is the one we use for triple 7 dance studio for dance camp