Pointes and Perspective #22 Who Are You Dancing For?

Who Are You Dancing For?

I was teaching a group of 12-14 year old students the other evening, and as the students executed a tendu combination, I worked my way around the room, handing out feedback. For a moment, I met eyes with Eliana, as she came out of proper epaulement, but then corrected her head alignment and carried on.  A moment later, as I sauntered around the studio, to the opposite side of the center barre, I again found Eliana peeking at me, this time, her head blatantly incorrect as she was obviously looking for me, over her inside shoulder.

After I led the class to finish the combination, I stopped for a moment to teasingly ask Eliana why she was repeatedly looking at me during the combination. She floundered, “I guess to see if you were watching me?”

I playfully asked the students a question, “Do you know how many children I have?” Their puzzled faces paused before they started guessing, “Two?” “Three?” I looked at them matter-of-factly, and answered, “I have four children. So I not only have eyes on the back of my head, but I have eyes ALL over me! So, am I looking at you? YES!!”

I continued, cautioning the students, “Don’t look at me. Trust me, I AM looking at you. Constantly! It is my job to look at you.”

I looked toward Eliana, as I continued, because I had a more important question.“

Who are you dancing for?

”The first raised hands offered the answer I expected, “You, Miss Heather.” Followed by a predictable variety of, “The audience”, “The judge”,  or “My Mom.” But it took a while for the correct answer…

“Me.”

Perhaps you are familiar with the story of five students who wrote to the author Kurt Vonnegut in 2006, trying to persuade him to visit their high school. Vonnegut didn’t visit the school, but he did write back to the students, “Here’s an assignment for tonight, and I hope Ms. Lockwood will flunk you if you don’t do it. Write a six line poem, about anything, but rhymed. No fair tennis without a net. Make it as good as you possibly can. But don’t tell anybody what you’re doing. Don’t show it or recite it to anybody, not even your girlfriend or parents or whatever, or Ms. Lockwood. OK? Tear it up into teeny-weeny pieces, and discard them into widely separated trash receptacles. You will find that you have already been gloriously rewarded for your poem. You have experienced becoming, learned a lot more about what’s inside you, and you have made your soul grow.”

I often tell my students about my small home studio, where I give myself class. And when I do so, I work hard, sweat, pay attention to every detail, start every combination held in a precise preparatory position, and end each combination with my customary final plié with allongé to bras bas. Every single time. All by myself. Because I am watching Me!

Don’t dance for your teachers, parents, the judge or the audience. Don’t dance for the review, critique, or compliments. Dance first for yourself. Dance as a celebration, an expression of ideas or emotion, to release energy, or simply to take delight in movement itself. Dance like you are alone in your bedroom. Dance like you are in a private lesson. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the process. Do it right, and do it fully, for you!