Swan Lake: Crunch Time

My students are less than a month away from performing excerpts from Swan Lake at our annual spring showcase. We began the rehearsal process for the corps de ballet sections way back in January (due to the limited amount of time I have with the dancers each week) and I was filled with a lot of doubts: Who was I to condense and re-stage such an important ballet for a cast of mostly recreational ballet students? How would I stay true to the story's original darker themes while being sensitive to the fact that the cast and audience would include young children?

Over the past several weeks I've discovered that I'm more capable than I thought. My students are also far smarter and more adept than I realized. Choreographing and staging any ballet--but especially a story ballet--requires the courage to be vulnerable. You're taking ideas and worlds and shapes you've formed inside your head and releasing them into the world. It's a lot like writing in that sense but with one significant difference: when you write stories you're not using real live people as your tools. As a choreographer your subjects are dancers, real people with thoughts and feelings and opinions In this way making dances is fundamentally collaborative--adjusting to the strengths and weaknesses of your subjects while striving to stay true to your original vision. Writing is more comfortable for me because I can work through my ideas in isolation. The backspace button never gets impatient when I have to rewrite a sentence over and over again the way a dancer might when I re-choreograph a phrase of music.

A few days ago I had the full Swan Lake cast together to work through the entire ballet for the first time. I dreaded the worst--total chaos in the corps and confusion during the pas de deux--but things actually went smoothly! It looked like a ballet--a ballet that needed lots of rehearsal time, but a real ballet that told a story. I'm always looking for things to polish and tweak in my choreography but during that rehearsal I made sure to take some time and just enjoy the fact that things were working. I wasn't as crazy and incompetent as I assumed!

I'm excited to see how everything shapes up in the next month as we put the finishing touches on choreography and costumes. I can't wait for my hard-working students to share this ballet with an audience!

Steps I Can't Teach

I've been doing this dancing thing for a long time. 

A very long time.
Ballet never came naturally to me as a student--I had to work harder than many of my peers to gain the flexibility and strength required of me. For years, I worked against forces in my body I couldn't control, like the arches in my feet (or lack thereof) and the tightness in my back and hip flexors.  That extra work pushed me to really think about the way my muscles had to engage or move in each step and position. Little did I know that the frustrating experience of studying ballet in a non-ballerina's body was preparing me for a career in teaching. 

As a dancer, I have to be able to perform steps correctly. As a teacher, I have to understand the mechanics behind every position, shape and action in ballet. Furthermore, I need to be able to relay that information clearly to my students.

There's a whole separate language of movement, a vernacular specific to ballet, at work in every classroom. When teaching beginners, I'm acting as a translator. For the most part, I think I'm okay at this. Of course I'd like to improve. I'm obsessed with researching new teaching methods and reading about what other respected teachers are doing in their studios but teaching itself has come pretty naturally to me--with a few exceptions. There are a few basic, easy steps I absolutely fail at teaching. 

I really struggle with teaching balancé (a simple waltz step) and petit battements (a small beating movement of the foot). I love both of these steps. I find them fun and straightforward, but frustrating to try to explain. Maybe these movements feel so organic to me, so much a part of my body after so many years, that dissecting them piece-by-piece gets me all garbled and confused, like when you say a word so many times it loses its meaning.

 I demonstrate the step slowly. I have students mimic me as I do it. I look at each moment in the step and probably use some stupid metaphor like, "Swim through the jelly, dancers! Swim through the jelly!" to clarify. The metaphor does not clarify anything. Students look at me like I'm insane. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Am I alone on this? Do any of you teachers out there struggle with teaching certain steps or concepts? 

Swan Lake Begins

In my last couple of post, I mentioned that I'm staging a mini-production of Tchaikovsky's ballet Swan Lake with my students this spring.

Even abridged, that's a huge undertaking. We haven't even started rehearsing yet, but I'm already freaking out a little bit. What was I thinking?

I chose this ballet for a number of reasons. First, it's fairly easy to abridge. I'd love to do a full-length production of a classical work in the future, but for now, my resources are too limited to be able to do that well. I think we'll still be able to tell a cohesive story with our shorter length version with a little creativity. I also wanted the first ballet HMAC tackled to be something familiar to most audiences.

Casting such a major, iconic ballet with a small number of students is proving a challenge. Swan Lake traditionally has a very large corps de ballet. I'm working with a total cast of about twenty dancers (about half of whom are under the age of ten).  I have some blocking ideas for how to make the stage seem fuller and plan to use my little ones and jazz students as supers (extras) when needed. While I don't have many dancers advanced enough to tackle the Petipa and Ivanov's iconic choreography, I'm trying to model mine after the original as much as possible. I'm excited for the challenge this will give my more advanced students, particularly those playing the principal roles. I hope Swan Lake will push them to hone their acting and performance skills along with their technical prowess.

Thanks to the freezing cold weather in our neck of the woods, I have an extra two days out of the studio to edit music and work on choreography. In spite of my stress and nerves, I'm ecstatic to bring this gorgeous music to life on stage for local audiences!

Podcast: Dancers and Eating Disorders

   I recently had the pleasure of being a guest on the Eating Disorder Pro podcast with Dr. J. Renae Norton to discuss eating disorders and body image in the dance community.

I talk a little about my own experiences and how I approach the issue of body image in my own dance classroom. You'll also hear me talk about my new book project. (Blog post with more details coming soon!) I don't claim to be an expert on eating disorders or nutrition, but I was very glad to share my own perspective on the show.

Click here to listen to the episode. 

Baby Ballerinas: Teaching Creative Movement

A dozen three and four year olds.

A big, open room. 

Thirty minutes.

Go! 

     Three and four year old dance classes are a staple of most recreational dance studios. "Creative movement" classes for this age group are becoming more and more common at even the most serious pre-professional schools. While kids this young aren't developmentally ready to learn much technique, they are ready to move, explore music and, most importantly, to love dance. From a business perspective, it may also be wise to open your doors to younger students and their families in hopes of inspiring loyalty to your school. 

      As a new dance teacher, I was full of enthusiasm for this baby ballerina set, but unsure how to go about teaching them. My preference has always been for working with older kids who have the patience for my nit-picky corrections. How could I teach these tots to dance and lay the foundations for proper technical development while still respecting and encouraging their need to learn through play? 

     At first, I structured my "Creative Movement" class (originally just for three year olds) a lot like my Pre-Ballet class which is geared toward five and six year olds, just with fewer exercises. This was fine and the kids still had fun, but they didn't retain much from week to week and certain kids had trouble focusing on the steps and standing in lines. I did some research, observed classes by other teachers and evolved my creative movement syllabus to make it more focused on, well, actual creative movement, than formal dance. I thought I'd share my ideas for fellow teachers: 

 Predictable, but Exciting 

     Most kids at this age thrive on routine. Following a set class structure helps kids know what to expect each class helping them feel less overwhelmed. My students also like naming their favorite activities and "telling me" what part of class we're doing next. Every class follows the same basic structure:

• "Hello dance" - a song with guided movement from a creative movement CD 
• Circle stretching 
• "Ballet time" - working on two or three very basic ballet/technique ideas like sixth position (and first position later in the year), demi plie, port de bras
• Across the floor/follow the leader
• Games 
• Goodbye dance - bowing together and clapping for ourselves
• Stickers/reward 

     To keep their interest, I scatter my introduction of new steps or concepts throughout the year and try to rotate the games we play each week. 

Use Props Wisely

      Some teachers use a lot of props and toys in their creative movement classes which can be great. I don't like to use as many props because of both the logistical problems (time it takes to take out and put away in a 30 minute class) and because I want kids to focus on their own bodies and how they move. Some simple props I like to include are yoga mats or large floor "spots" for jumping activities. I have kids practice lining up behind the mats or spots then explain to them that the mats are rain puddles. 

      We jump in and out the puddles with both feet ("splash!"), then practice leaping over the puddles from one foot to another foot. I also like to use scarves to demonstrate slow movement and fast movement or to let the kids dance with during the games portion of class. 

Learning with Games

Games are a fundamental part of my creative movement class. Sometimes I'll devote as much as 1/3 of the class to them. I use games to emphasize different movement concepts we've learned such as dancing different speeds or telling stories with out bodies. 

     One of my favorite ones for this age group (and up to age 7 or 8) is the "magic elevator" game. I have the kids line up by the barre and pretend it's a magical elevator. I'll say, "The elevator doors are opening and today, we're in a [place]. Show me how you move in [place]." The place might be an ice rink, under the sea, a jungle, high in the air, outer space, or even a room full of sticky jello. I might call out descriptions of the place or, if they're stuck, suggestions for how to move in different spaces, if they need guidance. I always finish with the elevator taking us back to the ballet studio so we can move on to the goodbye dance. 

Be Flexible

Kids can be unpredictable. While I never let kids dictate the class or the activities, I try to stay in tune with the general mood of the class. If their attention is wavering during "ballet time" I'll move right to across the floor activities, even if it means abandoning a step I was trying to teach them. If they don't seem to be responding well to one game, I'll try another. Every group of kids is different and what works one day might not work the next. 

Above all, enjoy your students! Encourage their joyfullness. Listen to their worries. Let them love you and let them dance. 

Permission to Be Happy

    Dancers tend to be perfectionists and I'm no exception, at least when it comes to dance and professional pursuits. (I am, sadly, not blessed with the perfectionism that results in an organized sock drawer or a sparkling stove.) In ballet, you are never "finished." Your technique can always be cleaner, your jumps higher, your footwork more precise. I tend to apply that same mentality to general life. It's difficult to allow myself happiness when things aren't perfect, you know? I tend to think I'll be happier when I have a larger business and more students or, conversely, when I have no business to worry about at all. I think I'll be happy when I make more money or finish writing a book or have a master's degree or eat more chocolate or lose ten pounds.

     But it's okay to be happy without those things. It's healthy to be happy without those things. Happiness now doesn't have to mean permanent complacency. Being satisfied with life doesn't mean I can't continue working, improving and growing. It doesn't mean things won't get better. It just means I won't drive myself quite as crazy to get there. 

So, today, I give myself permission to be happy. 

Music for Ballet Class

     In an ideal world, every ballet teacher would have an accompanist on a baby grand piano provide the music for daily class. There's nothing like dancing to live music, even if it's provided by an old, bitter Russian lady who takes swigs from a flask between combinations. (Stereotypical, but sometimes true.) Most of us are not so lucky and rely on CDs players or iPods to provide accompaniment for our classes.
    I make a conscious effort to update my ballet music library every few months or so because, when you teach 10 - 15 ballet classes a week, music gets old fast. I do often find myself falling back on a few old faithful standbys. I like tracks that can be used for different kinds of combinations, with a strong down beat and a nice melody. Since I know many of my ballet teacher colleagues are doing the same right now, I thought I'd share some of my favorite class music and accompaniment resources.

1. Between the Barres by Michael Roberts 
This was one of the first albums I purchased upon opening my studio and is still my go-to album for intermediate and advanced barre. I like that Roberts provides as many as three or four different tracks for each exercise with different beautiful melodies and lengths as well as tempos. Cons: Most of the tracks tend toward the slow side (at least for my classes which are allegro heavy) so I often will choreograph quick combinations at double tempo for my advanced class. Because it's designed primarily to accompany barre work, there aren't a lot of good tracks for center work (especially jumps and turns) included.

2. Princess at the Ballet by Lisa Harris
I love many of Lisa Harris's CDs, but Princess at the Ballet is my favorite so far. It contains a lot of familiar melodies--show tunes, pop songs  and TV themes--set to nice, even tempos with an energetic quality and tone that's fun to dance to. With 39 tracks, I can use the CD for several classes back to back and barely have to repeat any music (though I tend to play the same 10 - 15 songs over and over again). Cons: I find some of the tracks are very short, especially for an intermediate/advanced class.

3. Ballet Class iPhone app.
 If you don't have a smart phone, it's almost worth getting one just for this app. It's one of the only apps I've actually dropped money for, and it's definitely worth every cent. (There is a free version as well with just 10 tracks or so). Ballet Class includes musical accompaniment for every kind of ballet exercise. You have the option of selecting the same track in different time signatures and can adjust the tempo and even the number of bars in the song to suit your choreography. It also allows you to make playlists within the app, which is useful if (like me) you teach several different classes and levels. Cons: The music isn't the prettiest and the sound quality is lacking compared to most CDs. Pre-planning is also required if you don't want to have to stop to count the number of bars in your combo before starting the music.

I'm always looking for new class music suggestions so throw 'em at me in the comments!

On Great Teaching

 source: bwydance.com 

David Howard passed away last weekend.

     Howard's passing won't make national headlines or trend on Twitter, but the dance world, where his name is synonymous with great teaching and coaching, already feels the loss. Dancers, teachers, and colleagues who knew Howard better than I did (or at all) will write about his life and his legacy and how much he meant to them. I was just one of many students who'd take drop-in classes from him at Steps on Broadway every now and then, fighting for a good spot at the barre behind the retired ballerina or the musical theater gypsy or the occasional big name from ABT.
     David Howard's class was one of the first I took when I arrived in NYC as a college freshman. I couldn't figure out how to get from my college on the east side to the studio on 74th and Broadway via public transit (it would be several months before I learned to navigate the hell that is the crosstown bus) and was too shy to ask anyone, so I slung my ballet bag over my shoulder and walked all the way across central park, barely making it up the elevator and into class on time. Intimidated by the studio full of confident regulars, I spent most of that first class trying not to be noticed. Mr. Howard noticed, though, and offered a few pointed corrections about how I used my turn out.
    As I continued dropping into his classes during my years in the city, I noticed that all of his corrections focused on the whole dancer--the method behind the movement. His teaching and coaching didn't just turn out excellent technicians, but mature artists. While I never quite became a "regular" in Howard's class (so crowded!), he made an important impression on me as a dancer transitioning from my home training grounds to the wider world of dance.  
   I've been thinking a lot about what makes a great teacher lately. I never had ambitions or plans to teach full time and I often struggle with an intense longing to perform regularly again. Teaching requires a different kind of talent. Good dancers are not always good teachers and visa-versa. I used to think that teaching was something you did when you either couldn't dance anymore or failed to "make it" as a performer (what ever that means). I thought teaching (where dance was concerned) was somehow a less valuable way for an artist to spend her time.
   And honestly? Sometimes I still feel that way. When I'm correcting yet another sickled foot or trying to herd four year olds into a straight line or passing up other opportunities to perform regionally to spend my nights giving plie and tendu combinations, I wonder if what I do is meaningful.
 After two years of full time teaching, I'm convinced that it is. I watch students grow from little girls who take ballet as a hobby to mature dancers, artists in their own right. I read kind notes from parents telling me what a different dance has made to their son or daughter. I get to see the joy on an adult student's face as she performs a difficult turn with ease and grace.
    When David Howard passed, almost every dancer I know had some story or anecdote to share about how his teaching or coaching influenced them. There seemed to be even more of an outpouring from social media and dance blogs even than when the legendary Maria Tallchief died several months ago. And he did his most important work teaching others.
      These roaming thoughts are a reminder to myself about why I do what I do; one last piece of inspiration from a great teacher.