Pointes and Perspective #21 Don't Look, See!

Don’t Look, See!

I am a dance educator in her 50’s. I certainly don’t demonstrate everything full out, but I am still able to execute much of the class, and can still “show up” my students in control, eloquence, and style! I am an active, viable, producing professional, who has the wisdom of the years to offer, and I offer it passionately, energetically, and often with the entertainment value of a three ring circus!

I like me. But I often wonder what my students see when they look at me.

As we age on the outside, I know we remain 27 years old on the inside. We know what it feels like to throw our bodies into a tour jeté with full abandon, but regretfully choose to stay closer to the floor and preserve our hamstrings. We look in the mirror expecting to see our silky skin, and find we are looking more and more like our parents and grandparents. It shocks me to find an “old” person staring back at me. And I wonder if my students see an old woman.

Several years ago, Dove soap brand conducted a daring beauty experiment. They asked women to describe themselves to an FBI trained forensic artist, from behind a curtain, who drew a portrait of them based on their description. A random stranger was then asked to describe the same woman to the artist. The result was two completely different portraits. The one based on the stranger’s portrayal was more beautiful, happier and more accurate. It proved exactly what they suspected, that you are more beautiful than you think.

I was driving on one of my long commutes, and I reminisced, putting myself back in the shoes of being a young student, and thought about the many teachers I had, what age they were then, and what I thought of them.

My 6 year old self smiled, remembering my first teacher, Mrs. Leshine, at 36, her long, black shimmery hair pulled back in a low ponytail with a wide barrette, and her long manicured red nails, elegantly placed on the barre.

My 9 year old self reflected upon Ms Lister, then 53, former Ballet Russe dancer teaching at The Joffrey, always in a matching scoop neck, short sleeve leotard, and pleated, knee length teaching skirt - often in pale yellow, matching her short blonde curls. She smiled warmly and called us young ladies as she carefully showed every detail of a combination.

My 12 year old self looked back affectionately at Ms Griffee in her 40’s, former ABT dancer teaching at Princeton Ballet, hair perfectly parted down the center and pulled into a tidy low bun, wearing her ballet pink long sleeve leotard, matching wrap skirt, teaching slippers, and simple pearl earrings. She always wore fuschia lipstick, expertly applied, and had the most gorgeous feet!

I thought back to being 15 years old, in class at Princeton Ballet with Dermot Burke, in his mid 30’s. He wore black jazz shoes, dress slacks, and a collared shirt, dictating most of the combinations due to having a hip replaced after dancing with The Joffrey. He looked at us sternly, smiling behind his brown beard, always animated and comical.

In college, I was constantly entertained and amazed by Sherry Alban, former Princeton Ballet dancer, then in her 30’s, who outjumped us, outsmarted us, lifting her black ballet sneakers high into développé, with way more energy than all of us put together!

These reflections were truly enlightening, and awakened me to the realization that we should not feel self-conscious about whether or not we show combinations, that our hair is grey, or that we have gained new laugh lines. We fondly remember our teachers. Every single one of them was beautiful to us, and we distinctly recall every detail of what we loved about them. We didn’t think of them as “old”, inadequate, or unable - but as beautiful individuals and what they brought with them.

Last season I was asking a young class of students, “Who do you look up to? Who do you aspire to be?” They answered, volunteering former students that had gone on to dance, famous dancers they had seen on social media, and when I picked Charlotte's raised hand for her answer, she said, “You Miss Heather. You are the one that inspires me.”

My friends, when you occasionally get those sweet compliments from your students, write them down to remind yourself that you are more beautiful than you know!

‘It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see.’ – Henry David Thoreau