Many of you are probably aware that I have had an extremely unusual path to my career in the dance industry. I have discussed at length how I started dancing with Luigi at the age of 25 and was able to carve out a professional dance career in New York City. But I’ve never really detailed how I transitioned into a teaching career that lives primarily in the world of ballet.

After studying with the jazz master Luigi for about a year, I added ballet classes to my training regimen and found my new home in the classroom of Debbie Cruz (AKA Diane Bryan). Debbie was known at that time to be the best adult beginner ballet teacher in New York and I started taking her open class as often as possible. Since Luigi’s method is based in the Cecchetti system, (Luigi was trained by Bronislava Nijinska) without realizing what I had already learned, I arrived in Debbie’s classroom having a basic understanding of turn out, aplomb, epaulment and weight transfer. For about two years, I studied ballet with Debbie Cruz and jazz with Luigi simultaneously. (The Luigi Technique is a codified training method that teaches jazz through a progressive system, using the open class format to bring dancers up through graded levels, in much the same way as does a ballet conservatory program.) When Debbie left New York I started studying ballet primarily with Gabriella Darvash, while also taking occasional classes with David Howard, Dick Andros, Douglas Wassell and Elena Kunikova.

Since I was engaged in a graded, pedagogical approach to jazz, and since I had seen evidence of the result of the pedagogical miracle that is the Luigi Technique, I applied much to the learning structure that I got from Luigi to the work that I was doing in my ballet classes. Studying ballet in open classes with multiple teachers leads to a lot of disjointed, conflicting, and confusing information. I purchased a copy of Gail Grant’s dictionary. I took every new step, position, element that I learned in my open ballet classes, and I dissected them. I looked up everything in Gail Grant. I read about various differences in terminology and technique with regard to each element. I broke down the more challenging steps into their components and devised exercises to help me acquire the steps and get them “into my body”. I read 100 Lessons in Classical Ballet. I read Vaganova’s Basic Principles of Classical Ballet. I read The Cecchetti Method of Classical Ballet. And painstakingly, and without the benefit of a conservatory program, I built a professional level technique. Granted, as would be expected having trained the way that I did, it was a technique that had “holes”. And with each passing year, and with each new teacher, the “holes” gradually got “filled in”.

My roommate at the time was teaching jazz in a lovely neighborhood studio. This studio was looking for a ballet teacher, one class per week, for 9 and 10 year old beginners and my roommate suggested that I apply for the job. Rita Hamilton, who remains in my mind the epitome of neighborhood studio owners, gave me a chance. And so began my teaching career. I taught the class for one school year, but did not return the following year as my focus turned to auditioning and performing. Decades later I made the decision that I wanted to start teaching ballet again. I reached out to Rita Hamilton, who was still successfully running her studio in Brooklyn, and she gave me a job. Through a series of chance meetings, coincidences and recommendations, I started getting jobs in larger and more prestigious schools.

And then started the criticism.

I was never someone who cared what others thought of me; the relentless bullying that I underwent as a child gave me a very “thick skin”. But many colleagues and notable figures in the New York dance world as well as the “virtual dance world of social media” felt I wasn’t qualified to be teaching where I was teaching; I simply did not have the education. And they came to that conclusion having never seen me teach; and that stung. I had no conservatory education. I never danced in a major company. I had no formal pedagogical training. An acquaintance from “open classes” whose knowledge I very much respected, who studied ballet privately with two Vaganova luminaries, told me that what I was doing was IRRESPONSIBLE! She told me that teaching “experientially”, based on what worked for me in my open class training, was irresponsible.

And then she took one of my open classes.

And she told me that I wasn’t “just a teacher but a pedagogue”. And she started recommending that some of her friends, and some of her students, try my open ballet class. MY ballet class. My ballet class that is based in the pedagogy of the Luigi Jazz Technique and “irresponsibly” cobbled together from what I learned in open ballet classes, a shelf full of books and relentless determination.

I am not the teacher that one would choose to take a 9 year old beginner, train them for 8 years, and build a company-ready ballerina. There are many teachers that have an understanding of that process that is far deeper than mine. But that is not the facet of the ballet world in which I teach. In these sorts of programs I am passing on the brilliant jazz technique of my mentor Luigi. But I spend most of my professional time teaching ballet to musical theater students who are, for the most part, young “adult beginners” and teaching ballet at every level in the open class format. And owing to my late start, and my unique path, I am confident in saying that one would be hard pressed to find a teacher with my pedagogical approach to the open class format or my understanding and depth of knowledge of the adult beginner dancer.

So, to all the naysayers; to those who proclaimed that I “simply don’t have the education”:

I don’t have YOUR education. But my unorthodox training and my unique path have given me an instinctive understanding and knowledge of pedagogy that could not have been acquired in any other way. So I am forever grateful for Luigi for telling me that “it wasn’t too late”, for no other great teacher would have told me that. And I am forever grateful for all of my open class ballet teachers who provided all of the disjointed, conflicting and confusing information, for the knowledge that I gained in trying to put the pieces together is immeasurable. And most of all I am grateful for my very stubborn nature; for therein lied the determination to figure it all out.

So the topic of dancing with one shoe keeps raising its annoying little head. And I’m apologizing in advance for my tone; this is me being a jerk. Why are we even still talking about this? I guess, of course, there will always be new teachers who haven’t quite beaten this particular dead horse as much as some of us have. But whenever this topic comes up, nearly everyone in the discussion insists that it is “two shoes or no shoes”. Yet we look at the competition stages and what do we see? We see dancers dancing with only one shoe, and these dancers, and their teachers, are coming up with some sort of justification for it.

I would like to pose the following question: is competitive dance a separate field unto itself?

I do not work in the competition sector. I teach pre-professional ballet students, pre-professional musical theater students, and NYC open classes in all levels ranging from beginner to advanced. Is what I teach my students a completely separate field or discipline from what competition teachers are teaching? I don’t think that it is. And I dearly hope that I am right about that. So where in this art form, in which I have spent my professional life, is the tradition and history of dancing with one shoe? And, quite frankly, I’m really not interested in hearing some complaint about the slickness of a floor, a need for traction, or the desire to make turning easier. I danced on a lot of bad floors during my professional career. We all wore two shoes (or occasionally no shoes) and we all made it work.

I would now like to address the complaint that dancing with one shoe telegraphs to the judges that all of the turns will be on one side. Everyone has a good turning side. Everyone. I am a “right-handed left turner” and it made me crazy my entire career. Even the most accomplished ballet dancers will arrange their solo variations to showcase their good side. Judges expect that most turns will be done in the dancers’ good side; let’s just hope that the training is progressing in a responsible way, under responsible teachers, who have as their goal to make the two sides as even as possible.

Lastly I’ll touch on the idea of this being a “new trend” to follow. Why would we follow this trend, especially since everyone is constantly saying that they disagree with it? And if we are the artists that we proclaim to be, rather than following trends, shouldn’t we be setting them?

From the time of its Paris debut on June 28, 1841, Giselle has been the most beloved ballet of the Romantic Ballet repertory. Olga Smirnova and Jacopo Tissi have taken on the challenging roles of Giselle and Alberecht, dancing with the Dutch National Ballet, in a new film of this great work. Filmed on the stage of the Dutch National Ballet, it is a rich and evocative love letter to this masterpiece.

The dancing is first rate. Ms. Smirnova gives a technically secure and beautifully heartfelt and nuanced performance while Mr. Tissi brings a multifaceted perspective to his Alberecht, supported by his vigorous and formidable technique. All of secondary roles are all beautifully danced. The corps de ballet is magnificent. This is one of those rare instances where each dancer in the corps is clearly an individual artist yet the corps as a whole, dances, breathes, lives as an entity unto itself.

Toer Van Schayk’s beautifully evocative set and costume designs are steeped in tradition; transporting us into this Ballets romantic world while James F. Ingalls’ lighting design stunningly differentiates Giselle’s two worlds. Ermanno Florio conducts the orchestra with style and color while giving the dancers a supportive aural environment in which this world class company can truly shine.

GISELLE
Filmed at Dutch National Ballet

In Cinemas: Sunday, January 21, 2024
Select Cinema Encore Screening: Wednesday, January 24, 2024
Running Time: 2 hours
Tickets: http://www.giselleballetcinema.com

Produced by Bel Air Media and distributed worldwide by Pathé Live; presented in the U.S. by Iconic Events

Starring: Olga Smirnova (Giselle), Jacopo Tissi (Albrecht)
Music: Adolphe Adam
Choreography: Marius Petipa, after Jean Coralli and Jules Perrot
Production and Additional Choreography: Rachel Beaujean and Ricardo Bustamante
Musical Accompaniment: Dutch Ballet Orchestra
Conductor: Ermanno Florio

I recently stumbled upon a discussion focusing on a current trend in Dance Convention training. Apparently more and more teachers are “shoving a million tiny movements into one single 8-count” and teaching choreography that is relentlessly fast. I fully understand that I’m old, and don’t necessarily have my finger on the pulse of what is current, popular and hot, but from where I sit, I see this trend as problematic.

I have had many discussions with colleagues of my generation as of late, and one of the things that keeps coming up is the following question: “Why does so much of what I see in the dance industry today seem so shallow?” I believe that the trend of filling up choreography with “busyness” does not allow dancers to develop a deeper, richer, nuanced quality. The dancers similarly are not developing a connection to the space. They are also losing the intimate union that we had with the music.

I am one of the remaining disciples of the Luigi Technique who studied and trained for decades with Luigi. I am also a ballet teacher who studied with a direct disciple of Vaganova, herself. What these two genius master teachers had in common was an understanding of the importance of working SLOWLY to develop real depth to the work.

Today, when I am charged with teaching the Luigi Technique to “Advanced” dancers, I am still shocked by what happens when these technically secure, “advanced” dancers are asked to SLOW DOWN; really slow down. When I present a jazz combination in the way Luigi did in his “style” class, these dancers look like they’ve never danced before. These “advanced” dancers actually look like beginners; because when you strip away the busyness, when you slow down the speed, when you remove all of the tricks, they can’t really “dance”.

The other problem that I see today with convention training, (and training in general), has to do with the “warm up” or lack there-of. The exercises that comprise the “ballet barre” as we know it today, train the dancer and prepare the dancer for the physical demands and the art of ballet. In the exact same way, the Luigi Technique Exercises (warm up) train and prepare the dancer to work in the Luigi style. It would be IMPOSSIBLE to dance a Luigi combination well without TRAINING in these exercises.

When a convention teacher teaches some choreography that is fast, detailed, current and fun, what actually happens is that the dancers learn those steps; and perhaps some details of style and musicality. But it is all “on the surface” and in my opinion has nothing to do with actual training.

I have been, on a few occasions, asked to teach a “Luigi Class” at a convention. It simply can not be done, in any effective way, in less than 90 minutes and at least half of that time must be dedicated to the technique exercises in order for the combination to have any validity or usefulness. And the exercises must be TAUGHT and STUDIED, not simply “followed”. And unless I am given the time and space to work in this way, I will not accept the offer.

When the dancers of my generation (and those of today who are actually trained in this way) dance choreography that is fast, quirky, detailed, “busy”, what results is a performance that has something special, unique, and (to many) unexplainable, bubbling just under the surface. It is THIS “special something” that is getting lost. It is this “special something” that provides the depth to the work”. It is this “something special” that the quest for the Instagram clip is killing.

I’ve seen a lot of social media posts lately through which the authors are offering their services as dance teachers. These posts typically contain some information about the authors’ training and usually include a video clip or reel highlighting the teachers’ dance and choreographic abilities. And many of these prospective teachers are really struggling to find employment despite being extremely well educated and having absolutely stunning dance footage. I know some of these dancers, either personally or through social media, and I know how deeply frustrated they are.

I may be out of line, but I would like to offer some advice. I have done pretty well, over the years, securing employment as a dance teacher in New York City, and I would like to share how I was able to secure the positions that I did.

For those of you who may not know me, I am teaching/have taught at: The Joffrey Ballet School, Ballet Academy East, Broadway Dance Center, The Manhattan Ballet School, The Kanyok Arts Initiative, New York Film Academy, The New York Conservatory for Dramatic Arts, CAP21, Marymount Manhattan College, Hunter College as well as several smaller studios in the outer boroughs of NYC. I have also traveled the country and overseas as a guest teacher.

The competition for teaching jobs can be very stiff and lately it seems that EVERYONE has a fantastic education and EVERYONE has a gorgeous reel. So people continue to post about their education and continue to post their reels and continue to get no response.

So, to those of you finding yourself in this struggle:

There is one thing that consistently seems to be missing from these posts and seems to be missing from the cover letters that I’ve seen. No one seems to be telling prospective employers why they should hire YOU. Do a “deep dive”. Look at your work in the classroom. Look at what you bring to the table. What do you have that no one else has? What is your unique perspective on making a dancer? This is the information that, in my opinion, should be at the forefront of your social media posts, cover letters and applications. This is the information that can get you hired.

The other piece of advice I can offer is to take class anywhere and everywhere that you might be interested in working. Most studios offer some “adult” classes. Meet the teachers, meet the administrators and let these relationships develop slowly and naturally. This kind of networking can’t be forced. This kind of networking requires a lot of patience. But it was this kind of networking, and endless patience, that led to my positions at Joffrey and Ballet Academy East. And it took a couple of years, and a lot of patience, to build the relationship and rapport that led to a job offer.

I am in my 60’s but I actually haven’t been teaching that long. Social media was pretty much where it is now when I started teaching. I was hired by CAP21 with only two years of teaching experience and Joffrey with only 3 1/2 years of teaching experience, and I never once sent or posted a video or reel. A video or reel can show a studio owner or program director what you do as a dancer or choreographer. But a knowledgeable studio owner or program director knows that that has little bearing on your ability to teach and inspire a student. Develop the skills to explain YOUR unique perspective on dance education. Offer to teach a sample class. Let the industry learn how you can open a door to something uniquely yours to help train, educate and inspire a student to become the uniquely special dancer that they can be.

I usually spend a few moments each day scrolling through social media feeds and interacting with colleagues in the dance education industry. I have entered into discussions that have be enlightening, supportive and engaging. I have made some professional contacts that have proven to be invaluable. And, sadly, I have repeatedly come across trends that I find worrisome.

Apparently, it is becoming common place for students, and sometimes their parents, to complain when casting for a performance proves to be disappointing. The complaints are often accompanied by a threat to leave r drop -out if something is not done to address the complaint in some sort of satisfactory manner.

I am now in my 60’s and I would like to share an experience that I had in the 9th grade. My High School was starting preparations for the school musical. A group of students (myself included) volunteered to work on certain pre-production projects. After several weeks of working with these kids and the director, auditions were held. I was not cast in a role. In fact, I was the only kid who had worked pre-production who was not cast in a role. I was very upset. I came home from school and told my mother what had transpired. Her response:

“Well, that’s a shame but you aren’t always going to get what you want!”

I think that most parents today would find that terribly harsh. But guess what?: I don’t always get what I want. And I deal with that every day.

I have had many professional disappointments. There were many shows that I wanted for which I wasn’t cast. There were endless auditions in NYC where I found myself in the alley with the rest of the dancers who were cut. And with respect to teaching, there are many, many, MANY schools to which I applied that did not hire me. And even at the schools where I teach, and feel valued, and am happy, I don’t always get assigned the classes that I want, and sometimes I don’t get assigned enough classes at all.

And I deal with it.

Because I learned from an early age that I won’t always get what I want.

And all these decades later I am still in this industry. And I teach at some pretty great schools. And I love every minute of it. And that is because it was instilled in me that even if I don’t get what I want, I should still keep working; still keep trying. So I worked, and I tried, and I kept my eye on the target: becoming the best dancer that I could be.

And I don’t have tons of happy memories of being “the star” because most of the time I wasn’t. And I never complained. And my parents certainly never complained on my behalf. And although I don’t have THOSE happy memories, I do have a career (and a pretty great one) because I understood that I wouldn’t always get what I wanted. And I kept working anyway.

I teach a lot of college students who were parented with this above mentioned sense of entitlement and self-worth and they seem to be doomed to failure as adults. They too will often complain vehemently about casting decisions that disappoint them. But what is even more worrisome is that they are complaining about faculty members that they “don’t like”. I’m not talking about inept, inadequate or abusive teachers. I’m talking about teachers that students simply, for whatever reason, don’t like. And they expect something to be done about it. I recently learned that a conservatory program in New York has let three teachers go in the last year, simply because students have complained about them. I have also heard about conservatory programs changing schedules and hours of operation to accommodate student requests to “not come in so early” or “not have to go to school every day”. And what are these students being taught? They are being taught that they have some sort of right to always be comfortable and happy. They are being taught that their bad behavior has no negative consequences. They are being taught that they will always get they want.

Now, clearly there are students who don’t fall into this category. There are still many hardworking, dedicated students and I am fortunate to get to help guide them into their futures.

But what of the ever-growing number of students that do fit the mold that I find so worrisome? They graduate from college and they are still children. They roll into their mid 20’s and they still act and think like children. They have failures as adults and they react like children.

I recently found out that a former student who exhibited all of these problematic behaviors was fired from their first professional performing contract.

Worrisome.

At the age of 25 I set out to become a dancer. It was the mid 1980’s in New York City and the only option available to me was open class. Although I was primarily drawn to and interested in ballet, it seemed ridiculous to me to start ballet training as an adult. A friend had mentioned that there was a jazz teacher named Luigi who was good with adult beginners (I had no idea about who he was or the legendary reputation that he had) and I simply opened the yellow pages, dialed the number, and so began my journey to become a dancer.

I have been told many times, by many colleagues, that “open class” is not TRAINING. And on this point I beg to differ. Open class isn’t ORGANIZED training. But, at least at Luigi’s Jazz Centre in the 1980’s, there existed a system where one could train in open classes, progress through various levels, and receive a dance education. And so, on a Monday evening in October, nearly 40 years ago, I walked into Luigi’s Jazz Centre and took my first “Intro” class. It didn’t take me long to realize that this training needed to be daily, and I figured out a way to arrange my life and finances to allow for daily classes. And under Luigi’s brilliant tutelage I progressed gradually through the levels (Intro, Style, Advanced Beginner, Technique, Intermediate and Advanced).

After about a year, I started supplementing my jazz training with classes given by another jazz teacher named David Storey. David was teaching two classes every day (advanced beginner and intermediate), Monday through Saturday. It was David who explained that in order to achieve my goals, I would need to add ballet training to my regimen and suggested that I study under Debby Cruz (aka Diane Bryan) who was, in his opinion, the best adult beginner ballet teacher in New York. Debby taught two levels: Basic Ballet and Advanced Beginner Ballet; each level was offered multiple times per week. I started in the basic class and at her suggestion, when the time was right, I moved on to the advanced beginner class. After two years, Debby left New York and it was suggested that I study with Gabriela Darvash. Madame Darvash, like Luigi, was a fixture in the New York City open class system. She taught Monday through Saturday, and taught two Advanced Beginner, one Intermediate and one Advanced class every day. I started to study under Madame Darvash and like my training with Luigi, I was able over time, to progress through the levels.

Throughout my career I had many other teachers. Time and schedule constraints would often necessitate that I study with other teachers and these other teachers certainly enriched my training and added to my versatility. It is, in my opinion, nearly impossible to get everything from one teacher. But for the most part I was able to get consistent daily training from four outstanding teachers; guiding me from my first plié into my career.

What one must do, when one trains in open classes, is figure out how all of this disjointed and unorganized information that one receives, fits together. There will also be conflicting information as different teachers and different methods have different opinions; and such conflicts require deep examination and intense experimentation to resolve. But what results, if the student has the wherewithal and tenacity to put these pieces together and to resolve these conflicts, is in some ways a deeper level of understanding. A graded and proven curriculum and syllabus will obviously achieve a result, and probably achieve that result more quickly and easily. But the student who is forced to figure out how the “parts” make up the “whole” can come away with a deeper and more intuitive understanding of the process.

I am still taking open classes. There are many reasons why I’m taking class and I’ve discussed them in another article ( https://classicalballetandallthatjazz.com/2018/01/04/why-i-still-take-class-2/ ). But I’ve noticed changes in how the open class system now works. There are now many more teachers teaching much fewer classes. As I scan the schedules of the various open class programs in New York I can find only one teacher who teaches five to six days a week and I can find no teachers who are teaching multiple classes at various levels on a daily basis. There is an incredibly large number of “Guest Teachers”, “Master Classes” and “Workshops” being offered by famous dancers and choreographers taking over more and more of these schools’ programming. These offerings are fun, engaging and exciting. They create opportunities for dancers to get video footage for their social media feeds (a topic for another article). But they are typically not taught by seasoned TEACHERS and they don’t really constitute training. This shift has made it impossible for a student to STUDY with a teacher. What happens, instead, is an emphasis on “taking class” rather than in-depth study. And what the result of this shift seems to be is the production of extremely technically secure, very versatile dancers. But this versatility comes at a price: a steady decline in depth, nuance, personal style and that sense of “passing on the work” from generation to generation that was at the center of my training.

Studios are struggling to stay a float. They are trying to offer students what they want, in order to get them in the door. And what the students seem to want is this variety rather than consistency. And consequently the open class programs in which I teach are currently not able to offer me daily classes at multiple levels in which I can train dancers as I was trained. My beloved Joffrey Ballet School is currently working to expand its open class program, providing more classes to the teachers who are at the heart of its open class program. As the program grows, so will my ability to really train, nurture and mentor open class dancers and the future of the Joffrey open class program seems bright. But for now, what I CAN offer my students is that sense of “passing on the work” as I bring to them my “link” in an unbroken chain of tradition that goes back through the generations.

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.

I have come across two social media discussions recently on age discrimination in the dance education industry. In the first, the author was discussing the age discrimination he had been experiencing due to his youth. He had recently graduated from college and found that studios were reluctant to hire a young teacher without substantial performing credits; he felt that his strong choreography reel and BFA in dance made him an excellent candidate. In the second discussion, the author was asking contributors to share their experiences with age discrimination as an older teacher looking for employment.

My response in both of these discussions was pretty much the same.

So, to be honest, I’m not 100% sure if I’ve ever been discriminated against because of my age. There are many, many, many jobs in the last several years for which I applied that I did not get; and others that I did. I will probably never know for sure what the reasons were. In New York City it is very rare for a dance teacher to teach in only one school; most of us have to cobble together a schedule from classes at numerous schools and programs and it is CONSTANTLY changing, so I’m always on the lookout for opportunities and I am constantly sending out resumes and applying for positions. I am past 60 and most certainly do not demonstrate everything full-out any more, yet I am teaching a full load of classes every week. I also have a substantial resume with some large and famous schools on it, international teaching credits, and yet there are jobs that I don’t get; and classes at schools where I am already working that I don’t get assigned to teach (that I believe I should be teaching).

So here is how I see it: Not every teacher is a good fit for every job, and schools are entitled to hire the teachers that they want. Every school has its priorities. I taught for many years at a school that prized teachers with Broadway credits and so (having never danced on Broadway myself) I REALLY got the short end of the stick when scheduling was done. I know this was the reason for a fact (I was told so by an administrator). If they want teachers with Broadway credits, then I’m not the teacher for them (to be honest, they were desperate when they hired me and I ultimately did not renew my contract).

There are schools that want young teachers who are on the cutting edge and who can do everything themselves; demonstrating full out and dancing with the students. There are schools that want teachers with substantial choreography resumes/reels. There are schools that want teachers who had brilliant performing careers. I’m not saying that any these credentials make better teachers (that is a discussion for another article); but this is what some schools want. And, as was obvious by some of the responses in the threads, there are schools that want the knowledge and experience of an older teacher. The trick is to find the job that is the “right fit”.

So, if an older teacher (or younger teacher) is not “the right fit” for the wants of a particular school, does that make it discrimination?

I recently came across a very interesting study. Professional makeup artists created realistic disfigurements on perspective job applicants. The applicants were asked to go to the interview and were questioned immediately afterward as to how they were treated and whether they were offered the position. Just before heading into the interviews the applicants were stopped and told they needed their makeup “touched up”. But what the makeup artist actually did was remove the disfigurement. Every single participant in the study reported back that they were treated badly and that veiled negative comments were made about their appearance. Interesting how we can hear what we expect to hear, and even more interesting, that perhaps our own feelings about ourselves can create a behavior and demeanor that might negatively affect how we are perceived at an interview. Could some of this “discrimination” be a result of how our subconscious feelings about ourselves and the hiring process affect our behavior and demeanor?

I always suggest to teachers who are struggling to find work, to offer to teach a sample class. This is the best way for the studio to experience what the teacher brings to the table (and it will help the teacher realize if the fit is right as well).

It was recently suggested to me by a colleague that I reach out to a relatively new preprofessional program here in NYC. I went first to the school’s website. ALL of the teachers on that website danced on Broadway or in major companies including New York City Ballet and American Ballet Theater. ALL. And I thought: “this is not a good fit”. But sending a resume and cover letter is so easy now (I remember the days of actually having to use a typewriter) that I sent a resume and offered, in my cover letter, to teach a sample Jazz class. I had a response in less than a day. I taught the class and program’s artistic director hired me on the spot. Yet, there is a school at which I regularly teach ballet that will not assign me to teach Jazz classes despite my work with the master Luigi and my international credentials teaching Jazz. All of the Jazz teachers at the school are young and dance “full out”. Is it discrimination?