From what I have read, it appears that imposter syndrome (the internal experience of doubting one’s abilities despite evidence of success) exists in just about very field. In arts education (and especially in dance education), it seems to take up a very particular residence in the hearts and minds of its sufferers. Although every well-educated member of the dance industry agrees that great dancers with great performing résumés do not necessarily make great teachers, the functioning of our industry presents quite a different picture.

Schools need students. Without students there is no need for teaching. And brilliantly famous dancers will attract students. And so dancers with with a history of fame and great careers are often given preference in hiring for both teaching and administrative jobs. These teachers are usually assigned the classes that are at the highest level with the most talented students. The image that this practice then presents to the public, and especially to the students, is that these teachers are “ the best”. And sometimes they are. And sometimes they are not.

Some years ago, while employed by a well respected conservatory, I overheard a conversation in which one administrator said to another: “Broadway credits! We need faculty with Broadway credits”. For years I taught at that school. For years I meticulously planned every lesson. For years I adjusted and refined my curriculum to suit the teenage beginners placed in my charge. And for years I got a consistent result out of them. But I was always given very few classes, and never shown any real respect, while new hires with little teaching experience (but Broadway credits) were given full class loads and “plumb classes”. And so after overhearing that conversation, I knew that despite my professional performing career, without that Broadway résumé I would never be “good enough” for this school to earn their respect. And so at the end of the semester, I quit. But years of being on the receiving end of this sort of practice, behavior and decision making, can create an endless loop of self-doubt. And when one teaches open classes in New York City the problem is compounded; there are so many classes, so many teachers, so many choices and so much competition for students that it is ever more difficult not to base your self-worth and self-esteem on the size of your class. It is incumbent upon us to not only BE an expert but to PRESENT as an expert and to be SEEN by the students as an expert. The problem is made even harder to deal with as studio directors must craft a schedule and select teachers that will fill the rooms. 

So to be clear, I am not writing this to elicit an endless stream of compliments and support. Although usually heartfelt and honest, those comments are rarely truly helpful. I am writing to present my viewpoint and experience and perhaps spur a discussion.

As most of my readers know, I was an adult beginner and trained completely in open classes (although, at the time that I trained, the open class system looked very different). My pedagogical approach is, therefore, rooted in my ability to put together all of the disparate training methods that I encountered from a multitude of teachers. I never had a conservatory education. And now, as I have become a teacher working in this very system, I continue to train, I continue to study, I continue to take classes as often as I can. For me, the continuous quest for information, the endless refinement of technique and the ongoing search for ever deeper artistry is at the very core of what I did as a dancer, and what I now bring to my students as a teacher. Among my students are retired Ballet and Broadway professionals, working Broadway ensemble dancers and choreographers, aspiring hopefuls and passionate amateurs. I owe them my very best. And my classes are full. And my students are devoted. And that nagging nay-saying voice in my head has finally quieted (for the most part).

I also endeavor to be ever supportive of my colleagues in this industry. There are so many wonderful open class teachers who helped me on the road to becoming a professional dancer and who greatly impacted my journey into teaching. If a colleague’s name comes up in a discussion with a student I try never to be negative or disparaging toward that colleague. If it is someone that I respect, I will encourage the student to take that teacher’s class. And if it is someone who I believe is qualified but of whom I am not a fan, I might say something like: “why don’t you give their class a try and see if you like it?”. Not every teacher is the right fit for every student. Everyone has their fans.

I will continue to teach and continue to search for ways to reach, help and inspire my students. I have no choice; it is simply what I do. And as my classes grow and my reach continues to widen, that pesky voice grows ever quieter.

So to all the open class teachers that guided me to the stage, to all the open class teachers who helped me transition to the studio and to all the open class teachers who help me continue to grow through their beautiful thoughtful teaching and shining example, I extend a heartfelt “thank you”. 

“Never Stop Moving”

Luigi, Gabriella Darvash, Debby Cruz (aka Diane Bryan), David Storey, David Howard, Lisa Lockwood, Richard Pierlon, Elena Kunikova, Zvi Gotheiner, Lisa Gajda, Stephanie Godino, Julia Dubno, Antoinette Peloso, Fabrice Herault, Pamela Pribisco, Noriko Hara, Linda Gelinas, Suzy Goldman, Nina Goldman, Lorna Zawacki, Heather Hawk, Ginger Thatcher, Julie Voshell, Selina Chau and my deepest thanks and sincere apologies to the beautiful teachers who have touched my life and I might have accidentally left off this list.