The following post was made by Suzanne Kirsch, a superb ballet educator and colleague in Michigan:

Pedagogy- Webster’s definition is “: the art, science, or profession of teaching; especially : education”. Do you think this is a necessity in the dance teaching profession? How best to obtain it?

This query relates to a post I made on February 9, 2017 “Teaching What We Know”, in which I discussed our obligation to be fully trained in a dance discipline if we are going to teach it. In that post I discussed how dancers are trained differently in different genres of dance, and in order to be effective, the teacher must be fully trained in that genre. But Suzanne’s question goes deeper; here she is looking at how we come to our teaching methods, how we formulate our teachings, HOW we pass on our traditions.

So in looking at this question, I truly believe that there is more than one way to learn “the art, science or profession of teaching” dance. But regardless of how the knowledge is obtained, an effective teacher must HAVE THE KNOWLEDGE of how and what to teach.

Firstly there is the academically taught, pedagogically trained teacher. This teacher typically has a university degree in dance which in addition to dance technique classes included classes in dance pedagogy, anatomy, kinesiology, nutrition, music, composition, dance history and many other related topics. There are also teachers with extensive training in teaching through programs like the ABT National Training Curriculum or the Cecchetti Council of America, where teachers are trained to teach. And typically, these teachers are beautifully trained, very effective teachers. I have met some who are astoundingly good. And sadly, some who are not good at all.

Next there is the professionally trained dancer, who, after going through the rigors of professional dance training (and usually after a performing career), turns to the studio to teach the next generation of dancers. These teachers will typically teach their students in the same manner in which they were taught. Rather than being taught to teach through educational programs, they rely on their memories of their own dance education. Many of these teachers were taught by great teachers and they channel that teaching into their students; passing on what they remember. And typically, these teachers are beautifully trained and often make very good teachers. Some are astoundingly good. And sadly, some are not good at all.

I have witnessed a certain amount of animosity between these two types of teachers that has frustrated and saddened me. When I was training in professional schools in New York, the general opinion was “If you really want good dance training you don’t go to college, because the dance teachers in college programs aren’t that good”. Dancers and teachers coming out of college dance programs were definitely looked down upon. From what I can see of college educated teachers, this opinion is closed minded and unfounded. Similarly, I have met very highly trained and very knowledgeable dance educators who look down upon the professional studio trained dancer who turns to teaching; citing their own extensive education as a requirement for excellent teaching; certain that without their education, it would be impossible to know how and what to teach. Again somewhat closed minded.

And there is no one right way. And there is no one perfect teacher. And students will benefit from many different teachers and many different teaching styles during their training. Students will benefit from a teacher who has extensive training in  pedagogy, anatomy, kinesiology, nutrition, music, composition, dance history, etc. Students will benefit from teachers with extensive experience on the professional stage. Students will benefit from teachers who studied with great Master Teachers. No one teacher can give a student everything.  I truly believe that each teacher should be judged on their own merits. “It takes a village”.

But there is a third type of teacher. This is the teacher who went through extensive teacher training, or perhaps professional studio training, or maybe a performing career. This is the teacher who learned their art in a manner consistent with their particular discipline. This teacher does not parrot what their university taught them, or what their great master teacher taught them but takes that knowledge, that training, that art and looks at it in a totally new way. This teacher takes their training, be it pedagogical, professional, or stage experience and allows it to live in their body, to grow in their consciousness, and develop in their heart. And this is the teacher who will bring something deep and rich and personal to the studio. This is the teacher who finds new ways to work with each student’s imperfect body. This is the teacher who will reach and touch those studying under them. And this is the teacher who will help make a dancer and maybe guide a great artist into a career. I strive every day to be that teacher. And every day in the studio I get one step closer. Another relentless pursuit.

About a week ago I linked my most recent blog post to my Facebook page and it received a “comment” that has been haunting me. It prompted me to write this post about how we talk to students about their bodies.

As ballet teachers we are guiding, training, cultivating artists – and this is true of all teachers in all artistic disciplines. But there is something strikingly different about dance. Rather than the artists’ instrument of expression being a paint brush or a pen, or a violin, the dancer uses as their instrument of expression…their body. What could possibly be more intimate; more personal? And in ballet we have placed additional demands on this instrument by setting an impossibly high standard of body proportion, flexibility and turn-out that very few, exceedingly lucky individuals possess.

But if we are going to teach ballet, we must talk about our students’ bodies. And to quote Stephen Sondheim in his dark examination of the human condition Into the Woods: “Careful the things you say, children will listen.”.

I have always endeavored to teach each student how to best work with the body they have, analyzing bodies and teaching to those bodies in front of me – rather than teaching to an arbitrary genetic miracle. I have written a post on teaching ballet to “less than ideal bodies” (Ideal Lines / Ideal Bodies) in which I discuss teaching ballet to dancers with all types of bodies and I thought I had this situation (at least in my classroom) pretty much under control. And then I met Jennifer Rebecca Shoup.

Jennifer is an absolutely ravishing dancer that I met in an open Jazz class; and watching her dance reminded me that there is a quality of nuance, texture, richness and artistry that older dancers bring to our art form that can only be achieved through decades of painstaking, careful and dedicated study. We chatted briefly after class and we discovered that we had trained with some of the same teachers and had a few friends and colleagues in common. Then I mentioned that I taught in the pre-professional ballet trainee program at The Joffrey Ballet School and I saw something odd flash across her face, I saw her body bristle with discomfort. But busy schedules were tugging at both of us and so we exchanged names and agreed to stay in touch.

A day or two later I published my next blog post and it prompted this comment from Jennifer:

“For me there is so much baggage associated with ballet. I spent years trying to force turnout (I have basically none) and now I have had one knee replaced and will eventually have to have the other replaced. I was, basically, a ballet major at Butler University, despite the fact that I am a jazz (Luigi) dancer. I actually had a teacher tell me that if I didn’t turn out my legs I would never be a dancer. As if I didn’t work harder than anyone in any class I ever took! And, of course, the negative comments are what stick. I am nearly 50 years old and I still feel like I am “less than” dancers with turn out, even though objectively I believe that I am pretty good when it comes to jazz. I would love to be able to take ballet–there’s comfort in the daily routine of coming to the barre-but my self esteem just can’t take it!!”

She then posted the following poem that she wrote:

I learned, young, to hate
what I saw in the mirror-
a body not suited for ballet,
an enemy,
joints to be sacrificed
fighting for more turn-out,
curves to be starved into angles.

All that battling couldn’t change
the way my hips sit in their sockets,
the way my thigh bones rotate inward.
Couldn’t give me a square, achingly pure arabesque,
or the simple perfection of a heel open
to the ceiling in a tendu devant.

Why did it take so long to learn
that ballet is not the only way to dance,
that I am so much more than the image
reflected in the mirror?
My mind knows these truths now,
but my heart lags behind. It is hard
to unlearn feeling inadequate.

But there are days, dancing,
when the noise in my head quiets
and my heart opens, when what I feel
becomes the music becomes the movement,
when I catch accents and shade counts-and
on those days, my heart and mind meet.

And I read that post and I read that poem and my heart dropped. I started replaying in my head all the things I say in the the classroom regarding body types. Yes, I have been addressing dancers’ unique bodies, unique abilities, unique limitations in the studio for years. I have been teaching my students that every “body” can create an “ideal” ballet line. But was I assigning greater value to the more ideal specimens? Was I, in teaching the less than “ideal” body, projecting an opinion, a judgement of “less than”? Was I, without realizing it, teaching my students that the mirror was their enemy; as a dancer that is less than perfectly proportioned, that is less than perfectly turned out, that is less than perfectly flexible , that is “LESS THAN” glares back at them from the other side of the glass?

Taking ballet class is one of my lifetime constants. For me there is great comfort in the ritual of walking into the studio, placing my left hand on the barre, connecting to all the beautiful dancers that came before me and to all the beautiful dancers that I will help train. I feel a profound sadness in the fact that there are teachers who robbed a beautiful dancer like Jennifer of that comfort, that constant, that ritual. So as I continue down the path of my career; this career that started so late and by all the usual standards should never have happened, I will be mindful. I will not just teach different bodies; I will CELEBRATE THEM. And I will be careful; “Careful the things I say, children will listen”.

Most dancers and dance teachers will tell you: “You have to take ballet class; it makes everything better”. And for many professional dancers of western concert dance genres, taking a daily ballet class is part of their professional routine; their professional life. I spend a lot of time in dance studios, both teaching and taking class; and I watch a lot of dancers at all different levels; and “taking ballet class” is where a lot of dancers are falling short. They are taking class and not studying ballet. Ballet dancers have the beautiful control and technique that they have because they STUDY ballet. The study of ballet is steeped in ritual. There is the centuries-old tradition of walking into the studio every morning and placing your left hand on the barre. I teach at a studio that has enormous history and I try to encourage my students to feel that history. I explain to them that learning to embrace and love the process of learning ballet is the key to improvement. As I have said before, we must strive every day to make each tendu longer, each plié more supple and elastic, each rond de jamb more majestic, each arabesque more expansive. We must make our adagio more expressive, our epaulment more nuanced, our petite allegro more crystalline and bright, our grand allegro more explosive and joyous. It is only when the dancer approaches ballet class with the intensity of a ballet dancer, and STUDIES with the ferocity of a ballet dancer, that “taking ballet class” will begin to make everything better.

Now in my case, things came together somewhat differently. I started my dance training with the Jazz Master Luigi. I came to ballet late, and it never occurred to me that I would end up a ballet teacher. My first ballet class was an open beginner class at the Joffrey Ballet School, the school that I now consider my professional home. I had one year of Jazz training with Luigi and I ventured down to The Joffrey Ballet School for my first basic ballet class ever. After the class, the teacher remarked on my fluidity and quality of movement. Everything I did in that first ballet class was influenced by Luigi’s teachings. And everything I teach in MY ballet classroom is influenced by Luigi’s teachings: How the body works, how to use epaulment, how the torso is carried, how the rib cage is held, how the arms connect to the back, how to create a beautiful port de bras, or a long line that goes on forever, how to feel the music, how to phrase, how to “dance from the inside”, how to “feel first, then do”, and how to “Never Stop Moving”…all from the brilliance of his teaching. Taking class with Luigi was a joyous event! The energy in that classroom was infectious. He was funny, he was exciting , he was full of joy, he loved his students, and teaching them was his life. I didn’t feel like I was dancing…it was like I was exploding across the floor, filling the room with my energy. I never felt that way in anyone else’s class. It was magic. And now, every day, I strive to pass that magic on to my ballet students.

The STUDY of ballet makes western concert dancers better. And for me, the STUDY of jazz-real Jazz based in real technique and taught by a true master made my ballet career possible.

I have seen a lot of social media posts on dance teacher websites in which teachers are asking for information on how to teach a particular genre of dance in which they are not experienced. Some of these teachers proclaiming “I’ve been teaching since I’m 12!” I’ve actually found some of these posts shocking. I am not talking about qualified teachers sharing ideas about how they teach. I am referring to teachers who are unfamiliar with a genre or technique trying to figure out a way to teach something about which the know next to nothing. I have resisted commenting on these posts. I know that I have very strong opinions, but I always try to present my opinions without criticizing others for their’s. I do believe that everyone is entitled to their opinion and I love the discussions where different opinions are expressed.

I am well aware that I do not fully understand the economic problems of running a small neighborhood dance studio, especially one that is not in a major city. And my only experience in the competition dance world has been as a guest teacher in numerous competition studios (I LOVE visiting these schools to expose the dancers to different ways of working). So with no knowledge of running a neighborhood studio or with training dancers For competitions, I’m presenting my opinion on this topic.

Each genre of Dance has its own rich tradition and history. And part of that history is how we pass down the discipline, the training, the art form, from one generation to the next. I teach both ballet and jazz. I had a full preprofessional ballet education under Madame Gabriella Darvash, herself a student of the legendary Agrippina Vaganova. I am also able to trace my educational lineage directly to Enrico Cecchetti. Ballet has traditionally been passed down from teacher to student in a school/studio environment…teachers having had full pre-professional training followed by performing experience before starting to teach. Many great teachers have undergone extensive pedagogy training as well. My Jazz education was under the brilliant Luigi (for my entire career). I have also studied with Frank Hatchett (another Jazz innovator) and Christopher Chadman who brought to the studio the work of his mentor, the great Bob Fosse. Jazz has a similar history as to how the work is taught and passed on.

My opinion: if you are going to teach students, you should be fully trained in and part of the tradition that you are teaching. I do not and will not attempt to teach anything else. Hip-hop (which is something in which I have no experience) has a very different history. It was created in the streets and to my knowledge (correct me if I’m wrong) the greats of the hip hop world come from a tradition of acquiring the training NOT in a studio. I have worked as a ballet teacher in a studio in Red Hook, Brooklyn who’s Hip Hop teacher was stunning…and never had a single lesson inside a studio. He learned by being immersed in, and training in, the authentic Hip hop culture in Brooklyn and brought that training and history to his students. It is necessary to be part of the tradition that you are teaching, and have acquired extensive knowledge in a way that is consistent with the traditions of the genre. I know that I am fortunate in that I was born in and have always lived in New York City where it is easy to find great teachers and great training. But as I travel the country as a guest teacher, I keep discovering great teaching everywhere I visit. If we are going to be effective teachers, we must be fully educated in the subject that we teach. I teach workshops on The Luigi Jazz Technique for teachers. The goal of these workshops is not to work with these teachers for a few hours and then send them out to teach the Luigi Technique. That would be impossible. The goal is to bring these teachers some of the PHILOSOPHIES of the technique so that they can apply these concepts to the work they are already doing.

I could read a medical book, memorize the steps involved in removing an appendix, walk into a medical school and repeat that information to the students. Would you want one of those students to remove your appendix? This may be an extreme comparison…but I think it makes my point.

Our students believe we are experts. When a student places their trust in us, there is an implied promise that we will deliver high quality training. They are paying for our expertise with their money, their time and in some cases their chances of having a career. Before we step into that studio, we should be sure we know what we can effectively educate them. When we accept a student’s trust, it is our obligation to deliver.