The Dance Teacher’s Gift
Every year, at the start of the term, I give all of my students the same lecture. The first part defines our roles in class as teacher/choreographer and student/artist. My job as the teacher means I am taking my decades of muscle memory and translating it into imagery and phrases to help the student figure out how to apply it to their own body. The students job is to take as much of the teacher’s experience as they can and make it their own.
Composing Art
A choreographer is similar to a composer. They both are creating art based on their own experiences, training, and inspiration. An artist, or instrument, is supposed to express the choreographer/composer’s vision. Now imagine that we tell our composer. “ We want you to create a piano masterpiece, but don’t use any D notes.” We have severely limited what that composer can do. If a student has a lousy arabesque, or can only pirouette to the right, or has a grand jeté that won’t get off the ground, the choreographer is similarly limited. The artist’s job is not to limit the choreographer’s vision, but to express it.
So how does a dance teacher mold their students into living, breathing artists? By using corrections.
A student stands at the barre in fifth position and slides the foot out to the front to fully extend the pointed foot. The teacher says, “ Lead with the inside of the heel, not the toe.”
Lead By Example, Not by Word
In a perfect world, our intrepid teacher could go home secure in the knowledge that everyone in that room has mastered turnout in tendu to the front. The reality is that many dance students do not learn from oral instruction alone. Plus, the words or phrasing may be meaningless to some. Did you understand what I meant? If you did, you probably took ballet at some point and are relying on your old muscle memory. Many students have to see it demonstrated or physically have their foot manipulated so they can feel it. In other words, the teacher has to use words and imagery that resonate with each individual person and give that imagery to the student along with auditory, visual, and kinesthetic guidance.
A Thousand Little Gifts a Day
So where’s the gift? Did you read this far expecting to read about how teaching is a calling and all teachers should be considered national treasures? Ah, silly reader! It is and they are, but the gift I’m talking about is the thousands of little corrections students get each day in class. My lecture’s second part is about students learning how to accept those corrections in their dance class. So let’s say that I have talked about what the student needs to do to turn out in tendu, I have manipulated their foot, so they feel how it’s supposed to be, and I have demonstrated it multiple times so everyone can see it. I can go home now, right?
If only it were that easy!
So everyone in the room was able to do it. Once. Without music. At a slow speed so they could concentrate. Without changing directions. Without any other movements before or after. Without paying attention to what their arms or upper body or standing leg are doing.
Flash forward one week.
No one remembers to do it until reminded. But at least now they can do it slowly to music. To the front.
Flash forward another week. We can add another component, maybe the arms or another direction, but if it gets complicated, it all goes out the window. For now.
I won’t bore you with the minutiae of teaching turnout on one of the most basic ballet movements, but you get the idea. It is a long process to program muscle memory and the description I gave doesn’t even take into account that you can’t turn out one leg only. The standing leg has to work just as hard even though it’s not going anywhere.
Correcting as a Teacher
So how does a teacher dole out those corrections? Hopefully by the barrel. I teach my students that each correction is a small, beautifully wrapped gift from the heart. And that I want them to have unlimited gifts. And if they see a gift that someone else got, they can have that gift too. And as long as they are willing to receive gifts, I will keep giving them. The best students come to me after class and ask for more. And I give it to them. I want them to have free-flowing access to my training, my experience, and my muscle memory.
Of course, there is sometimes someone in class who resists receiving gifts. Maybe they feel that corrections are a personal affront to their efforts or a reflection of them personally. At these times, I like to show how the corrections should be taken as a class. If I walk along a line of students at the barre, I will often correct the first person; let’s say the first student needs to adjust their body placement. I don’t want to give the same correction the next person; I hope they took the first person’s gift and made it their own. I notice student #2’s shoulders are up and correct that. Now if I ignore the rest of the people in line, I am only teaching/gifting two students. So the third person gets a standing leg correction gift. The fourth gets a foot correction gift. If every student takes every correction, I have now got a class of dancers that have had every major issue addressed. The choreographer in me starts to get inspired.
Resisting Corrections
But wait, dear reader! This is sometimes the response I get: I don’t want the gift you gave me. I don’t need it. You already gave me that gift a million times. It’s not right for me. I have a booboo on my pinky finger so I can’t lift my leg today. I’ll try it next time. I already do that. A few days ago something happened so I’m tired today. Or every teenager’s modus operandi: I’m invisible so you can’t see me and if I ignore you hard enough, you’ll just go away.
These are all deflections and as a teacher, I like to point them out when the students are receptive so that when they are in a funk, I can remind them. The sad truth of the matter is, if a student is not receptive to corrections, there isn’t much any teacher can do with them. This is where education and positive reinforcement come into play. But when they are open to accepting corrections without excuses and actually applying them, stuff starts to happen - and quickly! When you get a room full of kids actively pursuing perfection, they become a force to be reckoned with. I love being in the room when this happens because you start wondering who is going to find the cure for cancer, who is going to lead an expedition to Mars, who will be a future president, or discover something spectacular. Gaining mastery of your body makes you realize there are no limits to what you can put your mind to do.
I’d like to see you wrap that up and stick a bow on it.