Yesterday I fell into yet another online discussion on the terms “Master Class” and “Master Teacher”. This is a topic that I’ve discussed in previous blog posts and I almost feel that I’d rather revisit the “tights vs. no tights” or “dancing with one shoe” discussions than rehash this subject yet again. But I read every single comment. I went to the profile pages of every participant, just to get a handle on with whom I was dealing. And I came to a realization. For the most part, the older teachers were more or less of one mind, the younger teachers were more or less of another, and no one was actually listening to anyone else.

When I was a kid in the 1960’s, Look magazine editor John Poppy coined the term “The Generation Gap” to describe this phenomenon.

In a nutshell, many (not all) of the younger teachers believed that there are many brilliant young dancers who can create valuable experiences in the classroom. This makes their classes “Master Classes” and should grant them the title “Master Teacher”. They also cited these dancers’ reels and social medial followings as worthy of conferring upon them the title “Master Teacher”. There were some young participants in the discussion who were still in their teens, proclaiming that this moniker of “Master Class” be applied to their classes as well because of their “nearly twenty years of training” and “the stage experience they have had”. They kept stating that decades of experience doesn’t entitle anyone to anything; that the use of these terms should be based solely on the dancers’ abilities.

Many (not all) of the older teachers, agreed that there are many brilliant young dancers, but that the terms “Master Class” and especially “Master Teacher” should be reserved for teachers with decades of experience who have produced superior results in the classroom. The consensus among the older teachers was that a dancer’s reels and Instagram followers were irrelevant when it came to bestowing the the title of Master Class or Master Teacher. These older teachers commented that they would never call themselves master teachers; that this label should be reserved for the absolute very best, legendary teachers in our industry. This sentiment lead some of the younger participants to call these older teachers “angry” and “insecure” which then lead to more name calling including “entitled” and “moron”. It was clear to me that much of the arguing (there was a lot) and much of the name calling (there was a lot) was due to the fact that most of the participants were not really reading and “listening” (for lack of a better word) to the differing opinions.

There has always been a “Generation Gap” and there will always be a generation gap. But what I find so interesting is: Why is it so large and difficult to bridge with respect to this topic? I am aware that what follows deals in broad generalizations and there are always going to be individuals who don’t conform to this discussion.

I think a lot of this gap in understanding has to do with the culture in which each of us has been raised. When I was a child we were not raised to believe that we were special; in fact our parents, and society at large, went out of their way to be sure that we understood that we were NOT special. I think that the goal was to raise us to have a sense of determination, a strong work ethic and a genuine humility in how we carried and conducted ourselves. I believe that they wanted us to understand our “place in the world”. And for the most part it seems to have worked. Most of the older teachers in the discussion and quite frankly, most of the older teachers I know, fit this profile and exhibit these traits; traits that are considered admirable and among the hallmarks of good parenting.

Today’s younger teachers were raised in a completely different environment. This generation was raised to understand that they WERE special. They were raised to know that they deserved to have their dreams fulfilled. They were raised to know that they could achieve whatever they hoped to achieve. I think that the goal was to raise them to have good self esteem, confidence in their abilities, and a sense of optimism with respect to their futures. And for the most part it seems to have worked. Most of the younger teachers in the discussion as well as most of the younger teachers I know, exhibit these traits; traits that are considered admirable and among the hallmarks of good parenting.

I’m clearly speaking in broad generalizations and there are many “shades of grey”; there are obviously going to be many individuals who don’t fit this model. But I believe that there is a lot of truth in the differences I’ve outlined. I’m also not saying that one way of being raised is better, more valid, or yields a better result than the other; they simply yield a different result.

And so here we stand. We have the terms “Master Class”and “Master Teacher”. These terms clearly confer a certain level of status or “specialness” on those to whom they are applied; a status that one group “knows” that they, themselves deserve while another group “knows” that they, themselves do not. And if we proclaim what we “know” about ourselves without understanding why we feel that way, and if we fail to listen to what others “know” about themselves without trying to understand where these feelings originate, we come to this impasse.

Perhaps some of the teachers of my generation should try to look at their work and themselves with a little more objectivity. Maybe we aren’t really owning who we are, what we bring to the table and what level of mastery we, as individuals, truly possess. And likewise, perhaps some of the younger teachers should try to look at their work and themselves with a little more objectivity and try to have a deeper understand of where they truly fit within the scheme of the industry. But more importantly, maybe we all should try to look more objectively at our colleagues on the other side of this generation gap and maybe we all might learn something and come to a better understanding.

Now, back to the crux of the matter: the terms “Master Class” and “Master Teacher”. I stated my opinions on the bestowing of these terms in the aforementioned discussion thread and most of my readers already know (or can surmise) where I sit on this topic. I have some very strong opinions on this: https://classicalballetandallthatjazz.com/2016/12/22/master-teachers-and-master-classes/ . But MY opinion is not germane to this discussion. Language is fluid. Slang expressions are constantly creeping into regular usage. The nuance of word meanings changes over time. So maybe “Master Class” can be synonymous with “special class” and maybe “Master Teacher” can be synonymous with “guest teacher”. And maybe not. And maybe if we didn’t attach so much specialness to the word “Master”we could all go back to arguing about dancing with one shoe.

I am currently teaching at five different schools, each with a different student demographic and each with a different student culture. What I’m about to discuss does not apply to every program and certainly does not apply to every student, but there is a general trend that I find worrisome.

I started training because I loved to dance. It was simple. It was clear. And as I started to train, I discovered that I loved the process of learning. I sought out the best teachers I could find. I took as many classes as I could fit in (usually 2-3 classes per day, 6-7 days per week). I hung on my teachers’ every word. I listened to every correction as if it was aimed directly at me. I examined myself in the mirror. I analyzed. I tinkered. I worked at home. I read books. I memorized vocabulary. I learned body facings, arm positions, arabesques. And slowly, gradually, with very little fanfare, I became a dancer; someone who IS, at the very core of their being, a dancer. And THIS lead to a career. I have often been quoted as saying “When the student finds the joy in the process, a dancer is born.”. But I am seeing steady a decrease in this kind of student.

I understand that the world has changed. I understand the influence of the internet and social media. (If I didn’t, you wouldn’t be reading this.) But what I am seeing now, in many of my classrooms, is an ever growing number of students who want to be on the stage, who want to shine, who want to be a “star” and see their training as somehow secondary to the specialness that they already possess. I’ve seen an ever increasing number of absences for less and less valid reasons. (I NEVER missed class; there was nothing that I would rather do than train. NOTHING). I’ve seen more “bristling” “sighing” and “eye rolling” at corrections. I’ve seen less interest in the work and more interest in the result. But what they fail to realize is that without the work, the result is hollow.

I’m really not looking to discuss the cause of this shift. We have discussed this generation ad nauseam. We have discussed the reasons they are the way they are. We have discussed strategies to reach them. We have discussed and postulated and hypothesized. But here is one fact: We are charged with preparing them for a profession. We are charged withpreparing them to be part of a business. And this profession, this business, doesn’t really care about them or their feelings or their “specialness”. This BUSINESS only cares about their work ethic and what they can bring to the stage. So if we meet them where they are, are we doing them a disservice? The industry certainly isn’t interested in catering to them. And if we treat them the way the industry will treat them, we are seen as cold, callous and terrifying.

So here is the crux of my problem. I really care. I care deeply about their success. They have so many advantages. They have so many opportunities. Advantages and opportunities that I never had. Yet I feel that for so many of them, it is just a feeble exercise in futility.

I will never give up, because I never know who I might reach. I am teaching the way I was taught (although perhaps a tiny bit kinder) because I know it works. And there is always that student who is quietly, steadily, diligently working, just as I did, and with very little fanfare, that student becomes a DANCER. And when THAT student walks into the audition room, when THAT student takes the stage there is something deeper, richer, and more exciting at the core of the work. And maybe it will be recognized. And maybe it will be rewarded. And maybe it won’t. Because that’s how this business works. But at least I’ve got my integrity in tact. And if that is the only thing that I’ve passed on, then I feel I’ve done my job.