On Taking My Toddler to an Audition

A and me onstage after a  Nutcracker performance in 2014

A few weeks ago, I did something crazy.
I took my son to an audition.
I watched the mom-me and the dancer-me (two identities I work hard to keep separate as much as possible) collide spectacularly and peculiarly over the course of a six-hour drive across two states and eight hours of dancing, acting and singing in front of a couple dozen producers.


It's not as crazy as it sounds--my husband came with me to take care of our two-year-old while I tried to disguise my lack of singing ability and convince directors to cast me. The audition hall was overstuffed with 18 to 22 year old actors, most looking for their first professional job, and many of whom had traveled to the audition with their parents. For most of the day, my husband waited in the designated "parent lounge" with our son.
"Hey, I am a parent," Graham joked as he wrestled our two-year-old child away from the complimentary snack table.  I hadn't thought about what it would mean to take a toddler to a unified audition. It meant that along with focusing on the song and monologue I prepared, I'd also be worrying about my son--whether I'd packed enough toys for him, whether he'd have an accident requiring a total wardrobe change, whether any of the middle aged moms in the parent lounge would be annoyed by ten thousand recitals of The Itsy Bitsy Spider. It meant that I'd have to yell things like, "Don't throw snowballs at the actors!" on the front steps between a dance audition and a callback. Several times.
It meant that I'd have a severe mid-dancer-life crisis right there in my turquoise leotard and three-inch character heels.  There I was, the oldest dancer in the building (at age 25), feeling everyone's eyes on me as I exited from the dressing rooms with a small child on my hip, wiping his boot prints off my tights.
"Is he yours?" one rosy-cheeked teenager asked. When I replied affirmatively she said, "Oh. Well, it's great you're still trying to do this."
She was probably being sincere. I know that in my head. And it is great I can "still" do this dancing thing.
But her sympathetic expression and the fact that few producers seemed interested in me only magnified my own growing doubts.  What am I even doing here? I thought after every unsuccessful callback or slip up. The inner audition voice I was trying so hard to keep positive suddenly got real with me. I didn't belong here.
Truthfully? It was a voice I needed to hear.
The fact is, I'm not a recent BFA grad looking for her first job out of college. And as the weekend wore on, I felt more and more grateful for that.
I have an identity outside of cattle calls and 16 bar cuts and contrasting monologues that show type.
I have a dance and teaching career that's a little unconventional but a lot fulfilling.
I have a little boy who loves me whether or not I nailed the tap combination.
And those things are wonderful.

2014 in Review

       I long ago stopped trying to identify individual years as wholly good or irredeemably bad. Wrapping up months by the dozen, slapping a label on the whole package and stacking them neatly away somewhere in our nostalgia-addled memories does a disservice to lived experience. It's much easier to think of life as generally difficult and full of disappointment and get on with it.
     Kidding!
     Sort of!
     A part of me is convinced the world will end at 11:59 pm each December 31st, so in the spirit of that approaching terror, and because this is my blog, and because I haven't blogged in a while, and because I did this last year, let's take a look back at my 2014.

January - March:

    These months were cold. So very cold. Some stuff happened, but mostly I remember the cold.

One weekend I braved the arctic temperatures and took the leap of attending a pretty Big Important Audition ™ for one of my dream jobs.  I got all the way to the final round of callbacks after not even expecting to make the first (all singing!) cut and had an incredibly positive experience all around. It made me think that I might still be able to do this show biz thing for a few more years and got me itching just to audition, something I hadn't felt in years.

     My new BarreFIT program started taking off at HMAC in the early months of 2014 with two full classes every week. I enrolled in a Group Fitness Instructor certification program to expand my knowledge and make sure I'm up-to-date on the latest in exercise science as it pertains to training my clients. As a Pilates instructor and dancer, I was fairly confident I already knew most of what the program would teach me but as soon as I got the massive textbook full of anatomic illustrations, I knew I was in for some serious hours of study!


     On the performing side of things, I appeared in a dinner theater production, Daddy's Girl with a local community theater group. It was my first time doing a community theater production not directed by Nic Gunning and it was fun to be part of an ensemble comedy show. 

Daddy's Girl at Short Tract Town Theatre

April - May
     I kicked off the month of April with a weekend of performances playing Shelby Latcherie in Steel Magnolias back under the direction of Nic Gunning with The Valley Theatre. We performed at the Nancy Howe Auditorium (at the David A. Howe Public Library) which has become one of my favorite local venues. The auditorium feels intimate and inviting but can accommodate an audience of 300 (plenty for this area) and has a comfortable backstage space. 
    After winding down from back to back shows, I flew to Texas with my husband and son for the Easter holiday. We spent most of our time visiting my family in San Antonio and also sneaked in a couple of days playing at beach in Port Aransas. (Our toddler loved the sand and the seagulls but was terrified of the waves.)
       In May, HMAC presented its annual Spring Showcase. This production was different than the showcases of previous years--I decided to stage a very abridged version of Swan Lake utilizing all of my ballet students. This was my first attempt at staging any type of story ballet and I felt terrified and incompetent throughout much of the process. I'm pleased with how my students pulled it off, though, and it gave me the confidence to tackle bigger projects as a director/choreographer (foreshadowing!).

Steel Magnolias with The Valley Theatre

June, July, August
    My baby turned two years old in June. The rest of the month is sort of a blur. 
  I planted a garden and more than half of the crops failed or were destroyed by critters. (Curse your cuteness, baby groundhogs!) I converted one of our big closets into a writing cave and only wrote there consistently for about a month before returning to the familiar arms of my living room sofa to tackle client work and creative projects.
     Anyway, I did succeed at passing my GFI exam through the American Council on Exercise and taught a ton of private and group fitness classes. I was also able to attend part of a summer ballet intensive a couple of hours from my house and take some dance, Pilates and yoga classes in Buffalo and Rochester. 
September - October
     A new school year means a new season at HMAC! We managed to grow our student numbers again, particularly for my adult programs. Genesee Dance Theatre officially formed after three rounds of auditions and a lot of self-doubt on my end. We dove headfirst into rehearsals for the company's first production--The Nutcracker. In the middle of all of this I also started dancing with another company, In His Steps based out of Dundee, NY, and became a barre/group ex instructor at a local YMCA! 
     With October came my 25th birthday, a fun weekend in Buffalo to celebrate said birthday, and another new part-time job at an independent bookstore and coffee shop. Yeah. I like being busy. 

November - December
        Most of November and December were dedicated to working (and working and working and working) as well as final rehearsals, preparations and performances for Genesee Dance Theatre's production of The Nutcracker. 
   The Howe Auditorium ended up being able to sponsor our production, enabling us to offer the show at no charge to audience members. Local businesses, individuals and families met the rest of the production's start-up needs and, somehow, we pulled it off. I need to do a full blog post just about the experience of putting the show together but for now I'll concentrate on the fact that it was, all things considered, a smashing success. We packed the house at both performances--even ended up turning people away--and received a ton of great feedback. It makes me hopeful for the future of dance in Allegany county.

    Nutcracker about killed me (and resulted in nasty Achilles tendonitis) so while my studio is closed for a couple of weeks, I've been recouping--spending a lot of time eating in my pajamas, playing and trying (with mixed success) to potty train my son, and catching up on my reading. 

      For me, 2014 was a brilliant year for dancing and performing and rediscovering what I value most about those disciplines. As far as my personal life, 2014 felt like one long trudge through a freezing cold wasteland without shoes and a sack of bricks on my back. I wish that the passing of another year meant that trudge was over but I know it's not. 2015 is full of uncertainty for me and my family. There's a real possibility that everything about my life will be different in six months--a prospect that both thrills and terrifies me. 

I'd like to end on a more positive note but this post is too long as is. Happy New Year, blog reader friends! 
     

    

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!

Dance, Mama!

    In every book or movie about ballet, there's a scene in which the uptight-but-lovable ballerina reluctantly attends a modern (or jazz or African or hip-hop) dance class. She's uncomfortable at first, but ultimately lets loose in a montage of flowing hair and slow-motion pirouettes. Rolling around on the floor to the beat of a bongo helps her rediscover her passion for dance and gets her through her existential ballet crisis. Ballerina will then become a modern dancer or join a hip-hop crew or become a principal dancer with Cooper Nielson's new company.

Jody's chronic lip bite finds a home in jazz class.

   Those kinds of scenes always frustrate me because, as a ballet dancer, that first modern or hip-hop class is rarely liberating. It's confusing and frustrating to have to use your muscles in whole new ways, to sift through years of classical training to figure out what you can use to your advantage (alignment, strength) and what you need to throw away (turn out, everything you thought you ever knew about dance) to perform those strange new movements correctly. Rekindling my passion for dance has always been more about the context in which I'm dancing than the style or technique itself. When burn out rears its ugly head it's usually because I haven't been dancing enough in the right place with the right people.
One of the major drawbacks of doing something I love for a living (teaching dance) is that I often start to feel burned out. I've written before about the ways I combat boredom when it comes to teaching the same classes over and over again, but burn out is a slightly different monster. Burn out makes me wonder why anyone wants to take ballet. Burn out makes me doubt my abilities. Burn out makes me want to delete ever Finis Jhung class album from my phone and curl up under the covers.
I know that a big part of it has to do with overwhelming myself with private lessons and classes to the point where I never have time to do much actual dancing myself outside of the classroom. I know intellectually that dancing more (not teaching, just dancing) will make me feel better but I usually end up just wallowing and whining about my burn out until someone snaps me out of it. This morning, that someone was my toddler.
I woke up with plans to tackle the housecleaning I'd neglected during my busy week of teaching. After getting dressed, changing a couple of diapers and feeding that toddler breakfast, I turned on my favorite Tony Bennett album and sat down for a few fortifying sips of coffee before beginning the day's work. My son heard the music and ran over to me with the biggest grin on his face. He grabbed my hand and tried to pull me to my feet saying, "Dancing! Dance, Mama!"
It about melted my heart. I love that he associates my favorite music with dancing and that he associates dance with me. I loved being pulled onto the dance floor, even if the dance floor was my living room and my partner was my 20 month old son.  For the next few minutes we swayed and jumped and stamped to the music holding hands. I didn't think about technique or choreography or how many costumes I still had left to order this season. I just moved to some music with someone I loved.
It was good.

Moments of Joy

       Sometimes, I let the moments of joy in my dance studio pass by.  I can get so focused on helping my students improve their technique that I forget to encourage them to enjoy their dance class experience. I'm still working on finding that balance between insisting upon discipline and respect and letting them be kids having fun with movement.

       My closest ballet friend and I met in ballet class when we were 10 and 11 years old, respectively. We were a pair of serious and dedicated ballerinas who only let our guards down (and acted like the kids we were) with one another. Our parents actually had to remind us to let loose and have fun every now and then. To that, my friend would usually say, "I don't do ballet because it's fun. I do it because it's hard." 

     For most of my life, that's how I've operated. I choose the activities that are challenging. I make goals and plan my life around accomplishing them. 

        Because I had that kind of mindset as a kid, it's difficult for me to remember as an adult that most of the kids I'm teaching take dance because it's fun. Most of them do not have their sights set on joining a ballet company. Many might not even plan to dance beyond May or next year or high school. While I still want to provide the training foundation that a student who does want to dance professionally should have, I am trying to be more focused on my students' joy and less focused on the perfection of their technique. 

      This past week, I had one of those great dance teacher/studio owner days. I entered the studio stressed out about a last-minute scheduling change we had to make due to some building repairs in my studio. I was worried parents would be confused or upset by some cancellations and schedule adjustments. I was soon reminded how blessed I am to have a studio full of understanding and supportive parents and kids. Everyone was gracious about the changes and excited about the building repair. I really have the best families at my school. 

     Inside the studio, all of my students were happy and cheerful. I noticed the tremendous progress they were making technically and the joy this progress seemed to give them. It was just a fun night. 

       As we work toward our end-of-year show and I make plans for the future of my school, I'm trying to remember those moments of joy; the moments that make me happy I'm a dance teacher. 

Fat Talk

I have a no fat talk policy.

Sometimes I break that rule in my own life. For all my talk about healthy body image, there are still days when I don't feel great about what I see in the mirror. I still struggle with worrying about numbers--the digits on the scale or the measurement of my waist. I'm aware that those feelings may be around in some capacity for the rest of my life and I try to acknowledge those negative thoughts and replace them with more positive ones.

In my studio, it's much easier to enforce the policy. I spoke on a podcast recently about how I try to encourage my students to think and talk positively about their bodies. As a teacher and role model (Scary!) for young girls, it's important to be aware of how even the tiniest comments can cause dancers to be self-conscious or overly self-critical.

For example, I know some teachers say things like "Don't show me what you had for breakfast!" or "Hold in those pizza rolls!" to instruct dancers to hold in their stomachs. Those kinds of phrases are unhelpful on a number of levels. First, they usually cause dancers to "suck in" rather than engage their centers. Second, a sensitive dancer could easily interpret such a correction as a comment about her weight. Third, they make eating food seem like a bad thing for a dancer to do. Finally, they're just squicky and weird.

Instead, I say things like "draw your belly button in" for younger dancers or just "engage your abdominals" for older students. There are so many ways of giving this correction (or similar ones) without being crazy and demeaning.

If I hear a student saying something negative about a part of her (or his) body, I try to jump in with something positive to counteract it like saying they have beautiful long arms, or strong legs or a nice line in a position. It seems sort of silly, meaningless even, but I really believe these small things can make a big difference in how an adolescent girl sees herself, especially if she gets a lot of criticism about her appearance or abilities at home or school.

Along with speaking positively about others' bodies, we dance teachers need to be careful how we speak about our own appearance in front of our students. It's tempting to be self-deprecating for a laugh or just because we're not feeling that great about ourselves on a particular day. But remember that these girls are watching your behavior and listening to your words. Create a healthy, encouraging environment and you'll cultivate healthy, confident dancers.

Dance Teacher Boredom

I love teaching dance. I really do. But like every teacher, sometimes I lose my motivation. It's easy to go through the motions of teaching a class, giving the same combinations with the same corrections I usually do. It's easy to "check out" when I feel exhausted or sick or discouraged. Just like I need to prevent my students from getting bored or frustrated, I need to be careful not to let myself become unmotivated.  Here are a few of the ways I try to keep my classes fresh and my mind engaged when teaching dance: 

Stay Inspired 

I stay up to date with what's going on in the wide world of dance by reading my favorite dance publications, especially Dance Teacher magazine. Reading about what other successful teachers and studio owners are up to not only gives me great idea to use in the studio, but helps me remember that I'm not alone in this crazy industry. Live dance performances, good music, art and books can also provide inspiration even when they're not dance related. 

Change Things Up

I follow a syllabus for all of my classes, but allow myself the freedom to change up the combinations and music choices regularly. Bringing in new class music also helps keep my students from getting bored, so it's a top priority for me and something I don't mind spending money on (if I'll get enough use out of it). Even changing where I stand in the room to demonstrate combos can help keep me (and my dancers) engaged. When I can afford it, I treat myself to a new leotard or fun top to wear to class. It sounds trivial, but feeling confident in my appearance helps me maintain my energy and enthusiasm in class. 

Take Breaks

This is the hardest one for me and, I imagine, for a lot of self-employed people. I'm tempted to cram as many classes into each week as possible both for financial reasons and because I enjoy them so much. This fall I've maintained a teaching schedule of about 20 hours per week, which is nothing compared to what school teachers put it, but still draining. Add to that the preparation time for each class (total of about 5 -7 hours per week), administrative duties,  freelance work and raising a toddler and I've got my hands pretty full.  Whenever I'm able to take a week or two off from teaching, I always feel so much more excited to return to the studio.

With our studio Christmas break approaching, I've decided to take a solid two weeks off of all dance teacher related jobs (including private lessons) to rest my mind and body before beginning an even more packed teaching schedule in January. 

When it comes to your job, what do you do to keep yourself motivated? 

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. 

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.