Do you mind if I take a few minutes to brag? Oh, it’s not about me; it’s about some heroes I know. They’re MY heroes, so I feel the need to brag.

Most of you know that after this season, in June, I’m laying aside a lifelong, fulltime career to pursue more writing and other passions. It’s also because, after all these years my body finally hurts enough to think twice, and I don’t want to die at the barre at one hundred years old without ever having done the things I know I am still meant to do.

In light of the current events in this world, this closing season is nothing like the way I had always pictured it. Because of COVID-19, the company and studio are closed through most of this season. I had to cancel the company’s spring performing season, and the studio’s student performance is going to be drastically modified. I wanted to give the dancers more. I wanted to give my best; I wanted to finish well.

Like everyone else these last couple of weeks, I have had lots of time at home without being distracted with a frenzied life. I have also had more time alone than I’ve ever had. Here is what I have learned.

We ARE finishing well. The “WE” is the crucial part. No one has ever truly finished well alone. If they think they’re doing it totally on their own, they’re not finishing well. They’re just finished. So, this is how we’re finishing well:

As more and more people are losing their jobs in this tumultuous time, the family budgets need to be re-prioritized, modified, and greatly reduced. Normally, when it comes to the kids, there are more activities than ever before, and parents want to give them every opportunity to pursue what they want. But now, mortgage/rent and food share the top spot, followed by health, family care, and gasoline. Dance classes and sports are not essential for survival (I don’t really believe that), so they’re off the list until further notice, and all the studios have to close anyway for those who still can afford it.

A few days ago, I had to send out a letter to all my dancers saying that we have to close for an uncertain number of weeks, cancel performances, and disappoint dancers. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do in my career and the very first time I’ve ever had to do it. I’ve had to cancel classes for snow, ice storms, and make those decisions quickly before people left their houses. But this one was for real.

Suddenly, along the horizon enter the heroes!! The parents of my students are at the ready, making donations, giving encouragement, offering suggestions, charging in on their steeds of valor! Truthfully, no one was really on a horse, and the horizon was actually a flood of emails, but to me it was a Cecil B. de Mille triumph. Then the next wave of troops comes in; the teachers at the studio are jumping in to teach online classes, work on grants, helping any way they can, even though some of them have families at home that need attention while they are posting their teaching videos. All are fighting for their land, staking their claim into what has flourished for years! I know this sounds a bit overdramatic, but the emotions and concern are real.

The Bible says to “run the race as if to win.” That means pushing the hardest as you zoom past the finish line, not giving up as you approach. I loved watching the summer Olympics the year when one of the runners on the track team became seriously injured so close to the finish line. His father leaped out of the stands and held him up as he limped over the line. He finished well, but not without someone who loved him holding him up and hearing the cheers of the crowd. He actually finished the best. I have no idea who actually won the medals that year, but decades later, people still remember and talk about that young man and his dad, his hero.

My faculty are my heroes. My dancers and their parents are my heroes. They have leaped out of the stands so we can all cross the line together.

WE are finishing well.

Dance on.

A dear friend gave me a really cute memo pad recently. The cover says, “Life is all about how you handle Plan B.” I love it.

Hmmm…Plan B. The second choice. The fall-back plan. The “just-in-case” plan. The plan many high school seniors make just to keep their parents happy as they pursue Plan A.

I haven’t met too many people whose life ended up with their Plan A completely intact. Plan A is always made when we have very little experience, a lot of wants, and even more assumptions.

Why must Plan A be our only acceptable option in order to feel complete and successful? I do completely understand the mentality of not wanting a “fall back” plan; we don’t want to be tempted to fall back. That was me when I was a teenager. However, I now know that our original Plan A is not going to be the only definition of our lives. Even when it seems that every part of our plan is coming together, there will always be some surprises eventually. It would be naïve to believe that everything will go our way if we just work hard enough.

So, how do we handle Plan B? Do we just become bitter and resentful? It’s so easy for that to happen, and the people who fall into that can remain that way for a very long time. It pretty much takes away their awareness of a viable or possibly better plan, and the rest of their lives will be spent blaming someone else that their Plan A didn’t work out. I think, way down deep (and I duck as I say this), we may want someone else to be accountable for “ruining our lives.” Even if our Plan A is off the table as a result of personal illness or injury, we blame ourselves, or even God, for our being stuck or disappointed.

Good news! Flourishing after the demise of Plan A is never impossible when recognizing that Plan B is not a substitute to shut our eyes to what we started with. Actually, it opens our eyes to see the many options and exciting choices that we didn’t realize you had. Refusing to see or consider other plans makes us pretty blind and unproductive…and uncreative.

I’ve always believed in being focused, passionate, and totally invested in doing what we love. If we truly are creative, then we should admit that we love many things. We can apply that focused energy that we had for the original Plan A towards the new Plan A.

There is a Bible scripture that says, “Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might” – Ecclesiastes 9:10. Most of us have wish lists, even bucket lists, of fun and exciting things we want to do.  Sometimes we can make them happen, sometimes we can’t, and we think about them with a wistful smile. We also have dreams and goals of what we ultimately want to do with our lives. Those are much more significant and impactful, so anything different (not “less than”) can easily be considered a failure. But that little memo book I mentioned at the beginning of this with the quote about Plan B also says, “How you handle Plan B reveals your character.” That sounds harsh, and it is very definitive. Disappointment, regret, and bitterness do make people very harsh and critical. When I was a student, some of the meanest and most critical teachers were the ones whose careers didn’t go the way they wanted, and they took their frustration and bitterness out on their students. The very best teachers are the ones who discovered that they have a love and talent for both performing and teaching. They would never have known if they hadn’t been put in a position to have to widen their nets. Modeling out how to switch to or incorporate a Plan B is one of the most important and very best things to teach, because most of the students really will have to develop a Plan B. We are defined by what we do with what we have. That’s the real Plan A. We all should learn that  Plan B can fulfill everything we didn’t realize we wanted all along!Dance on

Have you noticed that we are a “rush obsessed” society? Some of our most familiar proverbs are about time:

• The early bird catches the worm
• A dollar short and a day late
• Better three hours too soon than a minute late

We have microwave ovens that speed up cooking, newer computers that download even faster than before (because fifteen seconds to find the answer to EVERYTHING is too slow), knitting machines to mass produce a once appreciated craft in a fraction of the time, instant mashed potatoes, instant language courses, shortcuts, hacks, speed reading courses, calculators that make arithmetic skills obsolete, starting preschool as young as possible, graduating high school as young as possible, cars that go from zero to sixty miles an hour in seconds, faster…faster..FASTER!!

Have you ever heard the saying, “God is NEVER late, but seldom early”? Why are we so obsessed with faster, earlier, and younger? What will we eventually do with all the time we have accumulated? Will we sit around and complain about how bored we are with all the time on our hands? I guess we’ll have an infinite amount of time to play video games or be on Facebook. Then, when we’re old, we’ll regret rushing our way through life when we thought we were old.

Proper curing and seasoning take time. Growing and gaining wisdom take even more time – it’s not too much time, just the right amount of time. Many of the things I have done within the most recent five years are things that I wanted to do many years ago. However, I often think, “I sure wish this happened when I was much younger!” Actually, my abilities and perspectives were SO different years ago, that I wouldn’t have been aware or even able to do those things back then. Of course, I understand that we need to be punctual, we need to be productive, we need to take opportunities that are given to us, and we need to be responsible and conscientious. However, circumstances present themselves in our lives at the perfect time appointed by God; that’s how they fit into our jigsaw lives when they make the most sense and create the most good. When we are trying to put a puzzle together, we lay the different pieces to the side and put the boundaries or logical pieces in to set the base of the picture. Sometimes, the brightest piece of the puzzle that caught your eye first doesn’t fit in until it’s the last. Then it finally makes sense, and you see the beautiful picture. You can still see the boundaries and the shape of each puzzle piece, but the way God fits each piece in at the right time to create the big picture of YOU is truly amazing!

Everyone develops their talents at different rates, and their puzzle pieces fit together differently. If we rush to speed up the process, we lose some of the pieces along the way, and the final picture is incomplete. Take care with your talent and your heart, and the wonderful creation will be complete when it will shine the best.Dance on.

I have learned so many things about people through teaching ballet – things that go far beyond the technique – things that go much further than even the desire to dance. Dance is only one tiny manifestation of the universal need we all have: to be able to create something that leaves a mark and a path for someone else to follow. And we want to be significant; we want to matter.

Like most of the performing arts, dance is dependent on being seen. In many cases, it’s dependent on being judged. And accepted. And wanted. That’s being significant. Most importantly, we want to be significant enough to be remembered.

I’ve had many students over the years who were labeled as having behavioral problems, or having an “attitude.” With each one, I’ve had to say, “Let’s go have a little chat.” We would go into my office, shut the door, sit face to face on the sofa together, and then begin to discuss the real issues.

In my early years of teaching, I was frustrated that I even had to address behavior issues at all. Isn’t that the parents’ job?? But as I got deeper into the whole world of teaching, I began to thrive on speaking with the students AND the parents, getting closer to the character development issues, and discovering the backgrounds that led to the personalities and motivations. Eventually, the little chats, which would often evoke tears, would end in tight hugs and tighter relationships.

That’s when I discovered that moving the feet of the students is not nearly as important as moving their hearts. Everyone’s reasons for dancing are varied, everyone’s style and abilities are unique, and everyone’s home life and backgrounds are completely different from each other’s. Many issues are resolved and helped through dance, but many more are revealed. 

That led me to develop an interesting concept. Looking behind someone’s eyes when speaking face to face is what reveals so much more of the story than what is coming out of their mouth or even the expression on their face. The place behind the eyes is what reveals the true emotion, the joy, the pain, the confusion, or the grief that is being masked by the facial expression, the words, or the behavior. That place in them is what speaks to the place in my heart, so the real issue, rather than the behavior, can be addressed. One heart speaking to another. In these talks, sometimes the behavior is never even brought up, because the intimacy of trust resolves the behavior. 

In the very complex story, The Man in the Iron Mask, the character, Phillipe, was imprisoned and locked into an iron mask that covered his entire head for six years. No one could see his face. Even he couldn’t see nor feel his face. Eventually, after a very long series of events, he was finally released and ecstatic about his freedom. However, he actually ended up choosing to put the mask back on. He said, “I’ve worn it so long, I can’t feel secure without it!” Even though the lock was broken and he couldn’t hide who he really was, Phillipe opted to keep the mask on. 

Everyone feels the need for an iron mask sometimes. Some people always wear one. However, observant teachers who truly want to speak into someone’s life will try to look behind the iron and behind the eyes. Usually, the key for the lock is on the teachers “key ring” somewhere.  Bad behavior or inappropriate responses to the teacher usually hold a key or two, but the doorway is behind the eyes. Once the teacher has found at least one key that fits, the attitude changes, the behavior changes, and even the dancing improves. I think that’s because there’s no longer a reason to hide behind the mask. The artistic expression and the freedom to bare one’s soul aren’t timid to come out. The dancer recognizes the love and total acceptance from the teacher, and a lot of the frustration is gone.

Actually, one doesn’t have to be a dancer or a dance teacher to figure this out; it’s universal. But then, I think everyone should know how to

Dance on.

No one is a stranger to loss. Whether you lose a home, a person, a career, or a pet, eventually everyone goes through it. It’s always hard, and it can feel very awkward, especially if the loss is life changing or unrelatable to most people. There’s no blueprint, so most of us just stumble our way through our losses, hoping that at some point we will start to feel better.

However, by far, the most awkward moments are for those who are doing the comforting. Some people try to offer an “up-side” or try to suggest replacements. Others try to distract you from the issue or pretend that nothing is wrong. Still others may try to ignore you, because their own discomfort overshadows any sense of separation you may be feeling. If you have ever experienced a significant loss, this is the point where you become aware that you have entered “The Twilight Zone.”

Most of us perceive loss as having something taken away from us. We have something in our possession or as a huge part of our life, and then suddenly we don’t. We are told, “The wound will become a scar, you will heal and be stronger, and then your life will move on.” But the reality of being in The Twilight Zone” of loss is that you haven’t just lost something or someone. YOU are lost. You don’t recognize the landscape of your life anymore. The area around you is familiar, but you are very disoriented as to exactly where you are or where you belong. That means you are having trouble finding your way home, and your GPS can’t help you, because you don’t have your old destination to type in. You are just hovering; you feel yourself getting smaller and smaller as the rest of the world becomes vaster, further away, and yet ominously larger than ever.

A dear friend of mine recently sent me an old clip from one of the more memorable episodes of “The Twilight Zone” TV show. In the shadows, we see the silhouettes of doctors and nurses removing bandages from the face of a woman whom we are led to believe had been horribly disfigured. When the final bandage comes off, exposing the gorgeous face of an actress who was known for her stunning beauty, the medical team announces that the surgery has been a failure, and the woman screams in horror of her hideousness as she looks in the mirror. The camera then focuses on the doctors and nurses, who are no longer in the shadows, and it’s finally revealed that in the world of this imaginary society, the face of an asymmetrical pig is apparently the standard of beauty. The episode totally upends our perspective of normalcy and logical expectations.

How in the world does this relate to the concept of loss? Well, we tend to think of someone else’s experiences within the framework or our own perspective. It’s not that people don’t care, but they project their personal priorities onto someone else’s situation. Everyone pictures the world through different eyes and a different heart. It can sometimes be very difficult to fully empathize with someone else’s loss, because each life is affected deeply by different priorities. Our passions are so very different, so our losses are, too.

So, as comforters, what do we do? We can’t fix it for someone else, or say the ultimate magic words, or even give any advice that hasn’t already been said so many times. 

What we can do is to simply be present. We can stay connected. There’s a reason why solitary confinement is considered a cruel and dangerous punishment. Just being present in someone’s life is grossly underestimated as having the power to help the healing. It costs nothing – seriously, it costs nothing to talk. Or to squeeze a hand. You don’t need to fill out a form, or download an app. You just do it. No one’s words can solve everything anyway, but hugs and eye contact actually can.

For those who know me, it probably seems that I am most likely talking about the recent death of my husband, but I’m not. This year, I will be transitioning out of a world that has enveloped me for my entire life. I am going from VERY fulltime teaching, directing, performing, choreographing, and costuming to part-time teaching master/guest classes, coaching, and writing. There are so many things that I want/need to do, and I am no longer satisfied with doing them “one day.” No one should be satisfied with that. Today is always here, but “one day” rarely comes.

Like too many dancers, I have never known any life other than one with dancing. My husband was a dancer/choreographer, so even my marriage was always busy with dance related schedules. Therefore, I am trying to anticipate the future, but I am terrified of losing the past. It’s like the death of a twin sister; I’m still here, and I look the same, but there’s an emptiness that needs to be filled in…with a purpose.

People may offer hearty congratulations, but any dancer who has gone through this life transition knows the eerie dichotomy of the novelty of the change and the sadness of the loss. Finding a “replacement” is not an option, but a new vision is. Remorse over what wasn’t done is off the table as well, because it keeps the freshness of the future hidden. However, encouragement, trustful patience, and camaraderie help the journey continue until you find what all of your life experiences have been leading up to. God always has a plan, and even as I am writing this, I am finding that the need, inspiration, and motivation for the next upward rung of the ladder is so much more important than the familiarity of staying where I am.

I am ready to carefully peek through the crack in the door that leads to “infinity and beyond!” Even if no one else’s perspective sees it the way I do, it doesn’t really matter, because my perspective is what is pushing me forward and out of “The Twilight Zone.”

Dance on.

I have always been a workaholic—not because I’m afraid to slow down, but because there are so many things I desperately want to do that I’m afraid one lifetime isn’t enough to cram it all in. Dance, by its very nature, requires an inhuman level of technique, artistry, skill, and strength. All professional dancers already know what they’re signing up for from the very first day. Artists who were truly born for this life live in dread of the day when it finally has to come to an end.

When ballet dancers enter their very first class as young children, they are immediately exposed to and learn about devotion, teamwork, individual confidence, personal strength, tenacity, perseverance, imagination, and finding creative solutions to unique problems. Here is what the younger dancer doesn’t realize: That entire list truly goes into effect when life takes a different turn other than the lifelong classes, rehearsals, and performing. Sometimes the shift is a choice; sometimes you never see it coming. Either way, everything one needs at the end of a career was actually taught at the very beginning. It was practiced and honed during the peak years, but it’s all called upon and utilized when life finally shifts.

Actual retirement infers a pulling back, a cessation of ambition, a kind of no-man’s land of puttering around and not knowing where or what the focus of the day is going to be. For some people, retirement means that their purpose or value of who they are has been yanked out from under their feet. Younger people may say, “Enjoy yourself! Now you can do whatever you want!” But what most artists really want is to continue being creative, productive, and valued.

We rarely truly retire. But we do re-route. Our internal GPS recalculates and finds the best road to get us where we want to be—where we need to be.

We were all created for an ultimate purpose, and that ultimate purpose never changes. The only thing that changes is the scenery. The devotion, teamwork, confidence, strength, tenacity, perseverance, imagination, and creativity are what allow us to always

Dance on.

Everyone knows that a ballet class consists of endless repetitions of the same order of exercises every day. Every week. Every year. Even every decade. We were all taught perseverance, consistency, tolerance, and above all, to ignore the pain. If you are sick, you simply bring a box of Kleenex to class and keep it handy at the barre. If you are tired, you come to class but learn to yawn with your mouth closed. If all of your “normal” friends (you know who I mean, the ones outside the dance world) are at a fun party or on an exciting vacation, you still come to class but hide your resentment by attacking every exercise with extra passion. If you just don’t feel like being in class that day, you daydream about what you’re going to have for dinner– while at the barre.

I have written down Bible scriptures, read quotes, and listened to songs all about tenacity, encouragement, and motivation. I even have framed, inspiring quotes posted where I can see them in strategic places in my home and office. All of that is great, and it is important to not have a “quitter’s mentality.” We all have rough patches to overcome, even in the most loved professions. 

Here’s the problem with that. How do we know when to switch directions, change our path, or when it’s time to experience something brand new?

When I was in my training years as a ballet student, if we heard that one of our friends had decided to stop dancing, the news was always greeted with shock and knowing glances that the “poor thing couldn’t hack it and gave up – bless her heart.”

Wow. It actually involves more angst, soul searching, prayer, counsel, and STRENGTH to decide to end something that has been a life-focus and time gobbler than to blindly continue on in a field that no longer serves a greater purpose in your life. As dancers, we worry about what people think of us, because our careers depend on it. We worry about disappointing those who have been invaluable sources of support, and we worry about disappointing those whom we have supported. We worry about failing at whatever the new path or direction is. Worst of all, we worry about losing our identity and having regrets. Regret leaves a very bitter taste in your mouth that never seems to go away.

Well, there IS good news! We never have to regret moving forward into a new direction, because even if things don’t work out the way we planned, we are still adding layers to our life experiences, not subtracting from who we really are. Nothing that we try or transition into takes anything off of our life’s resumé or cancel’s anything out. Everything we do will always play a part in who we were, who we are, and what we will be. Appreciating, using, and enjoying all of our gifts that we’ve been given allows us to continue to always, and in ALL ways,

Dance on.

I did not grow up in the digital and technological age, so I do all my writing in longhand in various journals. Then I transfer it to a document in the computer and edit while I type. Obviously, I am definitely not a fan of using a computer for creative writing. Not only do computers crash without warning and lose everything I didn’t have a chance to save, but every file looks the same – the titles are lined up in the same column, in the same size font, no attractive cover, no satisfaction of turning the page and seeing how the process is progressing, and no visual evidence that things have wrapped up, resolved, and been brought to a close.

Not only can you not turn a page on the computer and feel the thick stack of pages in your right hand get smaller while the stack in your left hand gets bigger, but you can’t even emphatically close the finished book with satisfactory finality and turn to something new. On a computer, it all looks and sounds the same – the same bright screen accompanied by the soft tap-tap-tap of the keyboard. I know, I know, the computer is very efficient.

However, writing your thoughts and expressing your heart are not supposed to be efficient. They’re supposed to be therapeutic, or cathartic, or of benefit to someone, or enlightening, or inspiring, or just entertaining. I don’t think I’ve ever thought of writing as an art or activity that needs to be efficient.

After a couple of years of constantly scribbling my ideas, I finally filled up another three-inch thick writing notebook, so I started a brand new one. It’s a different color than my previous one, and it’s filled with hundreds of blank pages that smell brand new. 

Dancers may be visual in their art, but that art is really a tangible peek into the unique and creative feelings that no one else can see. Dancers, painters, and sculptors enable the rest of the world to see what is invisible but universally experienced. That’s why a change in the exterior, like a new house, a new haircut, or in my case, a new color journal, evokes or reveals an emotional change or inspiration. People go shopping for new clothes, not worn out, dirty ones. When we get a new hairstyle, or a new pair of shoes, we are in a different mood. When I was a little girl, new sneakers made me feel on top of the world!

We still have to remember that traditions are important. They keep us grounded and cognizant of what we’re built on. They give us a home base and remind us of the important fundamentals and our personal convictions. Traditions also constantly bring us wonderful memories with our families and friends.

BUT – we can trap ourselves in traditions by being afraid to be unique or individual. We can become more concerned with the tradition itself than what the tradition is for. If the tradition is meant to remind you of where you come from and important values, then, great! Traditions should give us the security and confidence to be creative and progressive, because we know we are pulling a rich history along with us. But if a tradition is actually wrapping us in chains that won’t allow any forward motion, then the intent of the tradition is gone. The intent of traditions should be to instill character in generations yet to come while retaining the integrity of the truths we learned from the generations past. Being stagnant is not tradition. When living things become stagnant, they perish. So do dreams. 

Remember your traditions, yet have the courage to try something new. Okay, I will even try doing some writing directly on the computer! Be proud of and value your past without being afraid to be a future version of yourself. And always,

Dance on.

When my cousin got married, her mother gave her a gift of living room furniture. My cousin was told she could pick out anything she wanted, and her mother would cover the cost and delivery fees. Sounds wonderful, right? Not. My cousin picked out a sofa in the color and fabric she loved, but her mother didn’t like her choice. She refused to pay for it unless her daughter agreed to her mother’s choice. Not only did my cousin hate her mother’s choice, but the particular fabric made her flesh crawl. Niiiiice.

This actually is relevant to dance and all art. Passing down special choreography to a dancer is like giving a gift, but it can be difficult, because it’s tough to not insist that the new artist have your heart, your interpretation, and your style.

Years ago, my husband choreographed a very special solo for me. I recently felt it was time to pass it down to a very deserving dancer with a special talent for drama as well as dancing. She does a beautiful job with it, but she interprets it and phrases it slightly differently than I did. At first, I kept correcting her and trying to get her to do it as if she was another “me.” She’s not me. I finally came to terms with the fact that, once you give a piece of art away, it’s a gift to the dancer to be used the way she sees fit. Apart from coaching and technical points that need to be addressed, we can’t “correct” or choke someone else’s heart and expression. That part has to be hands-off, and it’s really, really hard for the teacher to keep her mouth shut and not say, “Do it like I did.” Watching your old costume dancing across the stage with someone else in it is not an easy process, but that’s when we can finally see art as a universal gift; it’s when we finally understand the privilege of being a part of it. Art was never meant to be exclusive. It is meant for everyone to experience, whether as the artist or the audience member. Passing it down is the way to keep it going.

Everyone has their own way of speaking their heart, and using different accents and phrasing makes sure that everyone, from many different perspectives, can get the message when we are “speaking dance.” When the dancers can genuinely and sincerely share their heart, they are sharing their personal art. The legacy lives on, because the personality of each artist has room to breathe.

Dance on.

Dance teachers wear many hats. The obvious is teaching technique. That’s really just the very basic hat. It’s our cover – our façade. What we really do is counsel, parent, analyze, extinguish fires, encourage, mold artists, discipline, sew, organize crowds, privately coach, teach life lessons, provide a safe place to fall, pay the bills, pray hard to pay more bills, trust, hide our devastation, discern talent, get crushed, rise to the top, clean, sanitize…then repeat. Many of you can add to this list. We also do something else that we don’t like to admit: we make mistakes. Some of those mistakes involve boring administrative errors; calculators and adding machines don’t really help me much. But the big mistakes are the ones that involve a student. Those mistakes notoriously immortalize a teacher in such a negative way that they can be the topic of dinner conversation for YEARS!

I recently made the mother of all teacher mistakes. It was thankfully resolvable, but it wasn’t an administrative error. It was a mistake that hurt a student’s heart. I had made a casting mistake. It not only made her question her ability, but it brought me back to the years when I was a student, and my entire vision for the future hung on every word, decision, and facial expression my teacher made in my direction.

If a student is truly not capable of dancing a particular role, it becomes a teachable moment for the student. But if a student is misperceived or not considered because of a teacher’s mistake, it should be a teachable moment for the teacher. That all depends on how it’s handled. The horror stories I’ve heard from former dancers about how they were treated by their teachers FAR outnumber the stories of teachers who own up to and fix their mistakes.

Human is human, and we will all make mistakes now and then. We are also all still students, no matter how many years we have been professional dancers and teachers. If teachers stop learning from their students, then there isn’t much more to teach. There’s nowhere else to go but…well…nowhere.

Admitting, apologizing to the student, and trying to rectify a mistake not only lifts the student, but it lifts the production, and it demonstrates wise leadership. Students are less afraid to approach their teacher with their concerns when they can see that the teacher is human and truly cares about quality, excellence, and integrity. We all have grown up hearing the adage, “Learn from your mistakes!” How can we learn if we fail to recognize when we have done anything wrong?

Learning is a group effort that involves mutual admiration. We work, we try something new, we take chances, we make mistakes, we apologize, we move on.

And then we can dance on.