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.