Antsy

     I like routine. 

     This summer has been a strange one because it's been relatively unscheduled with little consistency in my day-to-day routine. I thrive on routine, full schedules and predictability. I like that ballet class always starts with plies, and that my mornings always begin with the whirring of the coffee grinder and a boiling kettle. I enjoy books even more the second time. I watch the same TV shows over and over again. I am not the carefree, adventurous sort. 

    I haven't been teaching as much as I'd hoped over the past few weeks--really, only one Pilates and aerobics class each week with a few private lessons here and there--and I miss it. This is good news for me, since I was facing serious burnout just a couple of months ago and questioning the whole existence of my business. Now I can't wait to get back to work, see my students and just dance. 

   The break in my teaching schedule allowed me to take on a couple of other projects: I choreographed and performed in a production of Rodger's & Hammerstein's Allegro with a local theater group. The original production included three separate ballets choreographed by Agnes de Mille (one of my all-time favorite choreographers) so this was no small task. We ended up shortening most of the dance sections due to the small cast, but I hope they stayed true to the spirit of the story and the music. I've never been super confident in my skills as a choreographer, but Allegro pushed and challenged me creatively in a way that I think I needed. Working as a teacher for little ones, it's easy to get stuck in a creative rut, making the same dances over and over. 

     I also took on new work writing fitness and dance oriented pieces for a content production company. While it's been nice to use the knowledge I gained studying for my Pilates certification (and in my time working with clients), I tend to get antsy after an eight hour day spent in my computer chair. Most of the work I do for this job is fairly mind-numbing, as I have to adhere to strict style guidelines with little room for creativity or personal touches. Since this is work-from-home stuff, I have to figure out ways to keep my toddler occupied while I work. Sometimes this means taking him to a sitter for a couple of hours when I can afford it, other times it means trying to bang out as much work as I can during his 90 minute nap. 

     Otherwise, the summer's included a lot of unpacking from our move, playing outside with the toddler, reading, trying to commit to daily creative writing, gardening and starting applications for MFA programs! 

   

     In the last weeks summer, I'm finding it difficult to enjoy my last few free weekday evenings. I'm just so ready, you know? Fall always offers a fresh start and a new opportunity to try new programs and methods. Along with debuting some new classes and amending my syllabi, we're making some improvements to the physical space and tightening up the admin side of things.

    As the days cool off and leaves start to fall, I find it more and more difficult to focus on anything but the coming dance season! (Hello, obsessive personality.)

Summer is so last month for some of the trees in our yard. (From my Instagram.)

What are you most looking forward to about a new school year, a new semester or new season? 

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.

Studio Ownership, Two Years In

Hello, friends.

It's been a while. I've decided it's time to revive this blog as it's the only blogging outlet where I've felt fully and entirely myself. I've also never had the overwhelming urge to scour it from the Internet, like I have my 5657 bazillion other blogs. Much has happened in these two years. Notably:

1. We moved from one small apartment to another a quarter mile away and finally to a big beautiful old farmhouse about 3 miles from Graham's college in the middle of nowhere. I'm talking cows and fields of corn and a forest surrounding us. Real country.

2. We had a blue-eyed baby boy last summer who's changed everything about my existence.

     Two years ago I wrote about my ambitious plans for a little dance studio and performing arts center in the little town that had recently become my home. That little studio is about to enter its third year in operation. It's not quite evolved the way I'd expected--does anything?--but I'm pleased with what we've done so far, even if my expectations continue to far exceed reality.
     Owning and operating a studio is nothing like I imagined it would be: it's far more exhausting, emotionally draining, frustrating, invigorating and rewarding. Its far more emotionally, personally and creatively challenging than I envisioned and has caused me to grow in many positive ways. I'm still more comfortable on stage than teaching in a classroom and I still struggle with making the "Big Decisions" of business ownership like what classes to run, what to charge, and how to manage staff. As a ballet dancer, I was very accustomed to being told what to do and how to do it all the time; always having some authority figure to turn to and obey. I still feel a little bit like a little kid playing dress up in his dad's clothes--all clumsy and awkward and unconvincing in my seriousness.
          I love the community where we live, but it's, frankly, not an ideal place for the kind of business I'd like to run. As a newcomer in a tight-knit community, it's been difficult to find a place for myself personally as well as a place for my business in the life of the town. Despite these challenges, I feel blessed that my students and their parents are nothing but wonderful and supportive and understanding--a true rarity in this business. I don't think I'd want to own a studio anywhere else.

      The first year of my studio's life I just tried my best to hold on and survive the year. Along with launching the business and teaching the majority of classes, I was also pregnant  (my son was born a few weeks after the end of that dance season), teaching at other studios, and still adjusting to life far away from most of my friends and family. I thought I could do it all alone. It placed huge amounts of strain on my personal relationships and emotional health. The second year was my experimentation year as we tried a few different types of classes, ways of running things, and I hired extra staff so I could spend a little more time home with my new son. Some of these experiments succeeded and others did not and I took the failures personally.

    I'm feeling optimistic about this third year, confident for the first time in my abilities as a business owner and teacher. I'm making lesson plans and class playlists, choreographing combinations and eagerly reorganizing the physical space of my studio (as time and money allow). It'll also be my last full year supporting my husband through college--then it's on to graduate school for him and possible an MFA program for me, but that's another post for another day.

Blessed to be a Blessing

In true Sarah Badger fashion, I have an impossibly long to-do list staring at me from its perch on a brand new Google Doc, which means it's time to finally update the blog.

A lot has changed since we last spoke, my friends. What began as a plan to rent a space hourly and teach a couple of semi-private classes has turned into the beginnings of a rather large more permanent project. There are many artists in this community, but no real one central place or group in which we can meet to exchange ideas, collaborate and provide arts education. By forming the Community Arts and Movement Center, I hope to be able to provide an outlet for artists to share and rehearse work, as well as a place where we can pass on our art form to others through classes and workshops. Rather than just a dance studio catering primarily to children, I envision a place of learning and wholesome artistic expression for the whole family. For the Fall, I am partnering with another teacher to offer dance classes in the space that will eventually be the Center as I work on all of the paper work and publicity that comes with forming a new organization or business. I'm beginning to believe that this is my reason God brought me to this area when and how He did -- so that I can use the blessings I've been given to bless others.

As of now I'm currently unsure as to whether this Arts Center should be a non-profit or a business. The ultimate goal is not for me to make a personal profit, but to benefit the community which makes me believe this should be a non-profit venture. I envision a class program that would generate revenue, but also a variety of free workshops, performances and master classes as well as, eventually, a free/donation-based arts program for low-income families. Of course there are a lot of other concerns that come with starting a non-profit, so I'm not entirely sure yet. I'm knee deep in all the literature I can find about the subject and busy making arrangements to get dance classes started this Fall. Oh yeah, and I'm teaching at another area studio this year too! It'll be a busy year, but a good busy. This is the kind of work that difficult for me to sit still during the day or sleep at night or do basically anything else. In other words, this project is completely compatible with my obsessive personality.

More updates coming soon!

My Eating Disorder Story

You can read a little about my journey to body acceptance in the September issue of Dance Spirit magazine! Obviously, my recovery process was much more lengthy and complex than I could discuss in a short piece, but I hope it gives you a little insight into the dangers, pain and destructiveness of disordered eating. Pick up the issue at newsstands or read the full article online.

Life Right Now

So, here we are, two months after my last post and I can't come up with any good reason why I haven't posted. Here's my best shot:
I really want this blog to be a place where I can blog about dance and the arts, but I'm suffering from "It's All Been Done Before" syndrome. I'm struggling to believe that I have anything unique to say about the dance world at this stage in my life and career. Maybe I just need to try harder. We'll see. :)

Meanwhile I thought I'd give you a little update on my post-college life.

1. We have a car now which means I'm able to get to Rochester and Buffalo for ballet class. Currently the vehicle is out of service so it looks like this will be a week of giving myself barre and conditioning in the campus gym. I'm trying to find some open modern classes in the area as well because my rolling-around-on-the-floor skills, as always, need some fine tuning.

2. I danced in a promo for a new TV show that (hopefully) will premiere later this year. I'm looking forward to possible joining the regular cast and I'll keep you updated as I get more news!

3. I performed in my student's little studio show in June and had a wonderful time. It was fun to perform but even more rewarding to watch the dancers I coached enjoy their moment in the spotlight. I'm excited to be teaching even more in the Fall, both privately and at another studio near Rochester.

4. I've been writing, writing, writing like a maniac (everywhere but this blog, it seems) trying to keep up with my work load and my more creative projects. When it comes to writing fiction, I find I really can't take even a day or two off. Much like dancing requires physical muscle, telling stories calls for a very specific kind of mental muscle. The more frequently I exercise it, the stronger my stories.

5. Graham and I formed a Summer reading group with some friends and our meetings for tea and discussion are usually the highlight of my week. We're working our way through Crime and Punishment, which Graham (our resident Dostoevsky enthusiast) taking over the discussion those weeks. Every other week we give our minds and souls a little break to read and discuss a children's or young adult novel. It's lovely to revisit well-loved books from childhood and discover I'm not the only adult whose never quite put aside that part of my literary life. Even outside of reading group, I'm reading tons -- everything from historical fiction to modern psychological thrillers to memoir. Every now and then I post reviews on Goodreads.

There. That's what my summer looks like. I hope you're enjoying the season as much as I am.

I promise to be back with more dance writing very soon!

The Mighty Pirouette: Talking Dance With "Normies"

Attention World: These are called "pointe shoes."  

That Awkward Moment

 You're at a church social or a dinner party or a family reunion. Your second cousin three times removed or that lady with the pasta  salad or your friend's dad finds out you're a dancer. You answer the obligatory "what kind of dance?" and "what did you think of Black Swan?" questions. You try to change the subject or make your way to the fruit salad but this person just wants to talk to you about dance. 

They offer their commentary on "So You Think You Can Dance" and talk about how they took ballet when they were five and actually had a lot of talent but stopped for whatever reason. If you are talking to the creepy old man type, he'll probably make an awkward comment about dancers and flexibility and leotards. 

Your conversation partner obviously knows nothing about dance and you don't want to seem rude by correcting him or her when he or she uses phrases like "toe shoes", "spins" and "high kicks". Usually, you just smile politely and feel awkward until you get the chance to escape. 

Dance On the Radar

With the prominence of dance in pop culture lately thanks to dance based reality shows and last year's infamous Natalie Portman movie, regular people are becoming more aware of--and interested in--dance. I think this is a great thing. Ballet and modern dance especially have been on pedestals for far too long. I firmly believe that art can be valuable, ethereal and meaningful without being an out-of-reach commodity reserved for echelons of mink-wearing patrons with fat wallets.

Kate Ward's recently wrote a piece for Entertainment Weekly designed to help the average person understand what judges look for on So You Think You Can Dance. I'm less than enthusiastic about the show overall and enjoyed her subtle snark on the show--like her observations about typical, revealing SYTYCD attire*. I also liked Ward's atempt to help "normies" (non-dancers) distinguish solid technique from tricks. 

The Mighty Pirouette

A few components of this article got me thinking about how difficult it can be to explain the nuances of dance technique, dance culture and different dance styles to people totally unfamiliar with the world. Ward placed double pirouettes in the same category as back flips--"tricks." She followed up by explaining that pirouettes are "easier than they look." My first reaction was annoyance. Pirouettes are a dancer's bread and butter. Intermediate and advanced dancers should be able to land a clean double pirouette to both sides. I wouldn't classify it as a "trick" for dancers the same way a back handspring is. 

That said, pirouettes--like everything in ballet--are actually more complicated than they look. First there's the preparation. Is your weight distributed just right? Are you sitting too long in the plié--or worse, barely taking a plié at all? Now we go up to relevé. Are you pushing off of your back foot at the right moment. Hitting the passé position as quickly as possible. Is your supporting leg pulled up and turned out? Is your passé leg in the right place, high on your supporting leg, equally turned out and finished in a supporting foot? We haven't even started to turn yet, or discussed what your arms should be doing. It's one of the most difficult things to teach beginning dancers simply because of all the little components that have to be in place for your turn to work. Many of these things happen automatically after five or ten or twenty years of pirouetting, but every dancer is a work in progress. You're never finished learning how to pirouette.

Instead of being impressed by multiple pirouettes, Ward says, audiences should look for dancers who can raise their legs high over their heads. Strong extensions require solid technique and training, for sure, but plenty of poor dancers can kick their face or developpe their leg to their ear "effortlessly" and do it poorly. I guess what's getting lost here in this piece is that it's not what a dancer does but how they do it that sets them apart. That's what's difficult to explain to a non-dancer and that's what rubbed me the wrong way about the execution of this piece, as much as I appreciated the objective 

Have you ever had a frustrating dance discussion with a non-dancer? What are your thoughts on SYTYCD and dance in pop culture?

*My bitterness about barelegged flimsy top trend probably has a lot to do with the fact that I'm unbearably self-conscious about my thighs. Some of us still prefer wearing tights on stage, thanks.