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.

Is Jazz dying? Has Jazz lost its relevance? Absolutely NOT. And there are schools, and conservatories and studios all over the country (and the world for that matter) that are keeping this uniquely American form alive; both as an art form and as a training method.

As you probably already know, I am a product of the great Jazz innovator Luigi. I began my dance training with Luigi HIMSELF 30 years ago. I came to him as a young adult, absolute beginner, and I instantly fell in love with his style, his teaching method, his WORK. I arranged my life so that I could study with him daily. I worked relentlessly to acquire his style and technique; to make it part of my body; part of my being. After a year, I added ballet and modern to my training regimen, but always continued my work with Luigi. I started dancing as an adult; but Luigi, generous of spirit, pulled me aside after class one day and said “It’s not too late for you”. That fueled the fire. In two years I had my first performing contract.

I now spend my professional life passing on the work of my mentor Luigi (as well as the teachings of my ballet teacher Madame Gabriella Darvash- herself a product of Madame Vaganova). Before his passing, Luigi certified me to teach his work and I am now a regular faculty member at the Joffrey Ballet School, NY Film Academy, Molloy College and CAP21 in NYC where I teach classical ballet and the beautiful traditional Jazz style and technique of my beloved Luigi. This technique is not about steps. It is about a deeply personal connection to a WAY OF WORKING. The style, the steps, are indeed beautiful; but that is the tip of the iceberg. I teach the technique exactly the way he taught it. Luigi once said to me “You aren’t the best dancer I’ve ever taught, but you UNDERSTAND my work better than any dancer I ever taught”. And I have endeavored in my career, to keep the work pure. But I teach it in a way that makes the TECHNIQUE, the WAY OF WORKING, a vital and growing METHOD for training dancers. A way to make every other style and discipline better, richer, more colorful, more nuanced. The method has been responsible for the creation of some of the most beautiful, unique, exciting and deeply personal dancers that the stage has ever seen. I remember the feeling in Luigi’s studio; How the whole space vibrated with the excitement that WAS this way of working. And now I get to create that excitement for my students. I am often invited to travel to a school or studio to teach both ballet and the Luigi Jazz technique. I am, at the moment, preparing to return to The Chesco Dance Center in Avondale, PA. Some months back, I made my first trip to this school where I was given the privilege of passing on this work to their students, their next generation of dancers. A beautiful group of dancers who had never been exposed to this kind of work. I wish I could describe the feeling of electricity in that studio as I opened a door for them; a door to a completely new way of working. As teachers; we can not MAKE DANCERS. One either IS a dancer, or one IS NOT a dancer. What we CAN do is provide the tools and the information necessary to become the best dancers our students can be. But even more importantly, this technique, this “old fashioned” “no longer relative” dance style, has allowed me to connect with, dancers, and teachers and PEOPLE in a very deep way. A way that makes me grow as a person.

Is Jazz dying? Is Jazz no longer relevant?

NO.

What is Jazz in 2017?

In MY class room it is a beautiful, exciting, vital, growing way to train dancers; steeped in history, connected to the past and looking toward the future.

As teachers, we pour out our hearts and souls into our students; and every student is precious to us. But nearly every teacher-student relationship will eventually come to an end. I spend a lot of time on social media, interacting with dance teachers in every aspect of the industry and in many corners of the world. For many of my colleagues, the departure of a student can be difficult, traumatic, heart breaking; conjuring up emotions that range from indifference to grief and to anger.

During the thirty-some years that I have spent in the dance industry I have studied with many, many different teachers. I remember, all too well, the guilt that some of those teachers placed upon me to keep me coming. I remember the jealousy that some of these teachers expressed when I added additional teachers to my training schedule. And I remember the hard feelings that were directed toward me when I finally severed the teacher-student bond. My mentor, Luigi, was undoubtedly the most brilliant teacher with whom I had the good fortune to study. He was paralyzed in a car accident, figured out a way to rehabilitate is paralyzed body and then turned that rehabilitation into a completely new way to train dancers and a completely new philosophy of movement- BRILLIANT. He also had a very compelling and charismatic personality that made everyone in his studio feel that they were uniquely special to him-again, BRILLIANT. But along with the brilliance of the teaching and that magical quality that made me feel special came enormous guilt when I felt that I was ready for new teachers, different philosophies , other styles and ideas. It wasn’t that Luigi set out to make me feel guilty, but because he made me feel special, I felt guilty leaving. (I fully admit that I did this to myself). But no matter how brilliant a teacher may be…there is no one teacher that can provide a student with everything. I wanted to dance and I knew I needed more. So despite the guilt, I moved on. I always came back to Luigi, but the “two class a day/5-6 days a week” schedule that comprised the first few years of my time with Luigi were a thing of the past.

When I started teaching, I made the conscious decision to NEVER do that to a student. I have endeavored never to place any guilt on a student to keep them coming. If a student wants to study with me, I am thrilled. If what I teach, or how I teach, is not working for a student, is not helping them grow, is not contributing to THEIR process, then I would expect the student to leave. And even a student who thrives and grows under my tutelage may one day, for many reasons, move on. And as heartbreaking as it may be, sometimes a dancer simply decides to stop dancing. I may not like it, but my BIGGEST concern is my students’ growth and my students’ needs. Thankfully, there have always been more students.

I think that what many of my colleagues lose sight of is that THE STUDENTS ARE NOT THERE FOR US! They are not there for the purpose of filling up our studios. They are not there to be the instruments upon which we choreograph. They are not there to win competitions for us. They are not there to provide professional fulfillment for us. And they are not their to put dollars in our pockets. The students come to be trained. In fact, WE ARE THERE FOR THE STUDENTS. We are there to train, guide, mold and mentor tomorrow’s dancers. The teacher-student relationship is about the STUDENT. Of course we love our students, but when a beloved student leaves, we need to continue to love them; and with that love, and freedom from guilt, we hope that our students will soar.

I know a wonderful studio owner who once discovered a TRULY remarkable young dancer in her class. Knowing that her small neighborhood studio could not provide the full time training that this dancer would need to have a career, she suggested to the mom that she bring her child to a full time pre-professional program. When this mom investigated programs, she discovered that the family could not afford full time training. So this studio owner, who could barely make her rent and payroll every month, PAID for this remarkable student to train in a major NY summer intensive. At the end of the intensive, that school took this student on as a full-time scholarship student and launched this dancer into a career that landed her in a major internationally known company. Not only did this teacher send away the most talented student she had ever encountered, she PAID FOR IT. And what did she get for her money? The knowledge that she got to make a dancer, make a career, and give a talented dancer her life. THAT is what it means to be a dance teacher and I am proud to call her my colleague and dear, dear friend. It is about the student.

When I was training and performing in NYC, video cameras were large and expensive machines that very few people could afford or could carry around; the idea of video recording in class was completely non-existent. At that time, even still photos were not permitted without teacher approval, and an announcement was made prior to photos being taken because members of the performing arts unions (SAG, AFTRA, AGMA, Equity) were not permitted to be candidly photographed. If you wanted to remember choreography, you had to REMEMBER choreography.

I left the dance industry for about ten years, and when I came back everyone seemed to have a phone that was capable of making a video recording. And everything changed. Even the large professional studios like Steps on Broadway and Broadway Dance Center now seem to be OK with video recording, as students will routinely have a recording made of themselves in class and post it on Facebook or other social media. I do not allow students to use video cameras in my classes. My choreography and my teaching methods are my livelihood; students pay for class and they get the benefits of my work for that 90 minutes. They do not get to “take me home with them”. That is my opinion and not everyone agrees with me. And that’s OK. I found an interesting blog post on this topic:

http://hillary-marie.com/blog/so-you-think-you-can-film-in-class/

But there is more to this issue that isn’t addressed in the aforementioned post. I have always believed that the dance studio and dance classes are sacred and safe. Dancers should be able to come to class to WORK, TRAIN, STUDY and IMPROVE. They should also be able to experiment, to try new things, and to fail. They are not there to perform. They are not there to be seen. I am well past 50 years old. And as 60 gets closer and closer, there are many things that can still get better: musicality, nuance, phrasing, ARTISTRY. But no mater how hard one works at my age, there is a decline. There is a decline in speed, buoyancy, extension, balance. And that is a simple fact of life and of the aging process. But class is safe. Class is sacred; or so I thought. Until one day, while scrolling through Facebook, I found a post made by a young, wonderful teacher. A teacher at a very large and famous studio. A teacher who’s class I love and occasionally take. So I clicked on the link. There I was, at 55 years old, dancing in class. The video was made by the teacher (I did not notice the camera…I was focused on my work). The video was posted by the teacher (without my permission). The video was seen by this teacher’s thousands of followers…and sadly, class is no longer sacred or safe.

I know that this change has occurred and this change in philosophy is probably here to stay. But to all the wonderful teachers who are training all of tomorrow’s wonderful dancers: Please think carefully before you point a camera and post a video without permission. Think about your dancers. Think about their process. For my students, in my classes, for as much as I can control it, the studio is still sacred.