Welcome to My School

Thanks for coming in and watching class. It was good to see you, recognize you and hear what you have to say. I’ll go ahead and send that transfer in after a couple criteria are met.

I’ll need to call your teacher first. You see, you’ll be in my classes for a little while. 6 years, maybe more if you keep dancing beyond high school, maybe less if you move on to greener pastures. But I’ll be working in the same area as your teacher for decades. It’s important to me to preserve that relationship. Sometimes he’ll tell me what a great student you are and how they’re sorry you have to leave. Sometimes she’ll tell me “good luck, sister” and give me a laundry list of the issues I’ll face in taking you on. Sometimes they won’t care either way.

I hope you have already talked to them about this, because the worst feeling in the world is when a student transfers “Out of the Blue”. Please show enough respect to your teacher to make sure they know your concerns, what needs are not being met or what feelings have been hurt or that you can’t afford them anymore. They taught you. They deserve the chance to grow and make things right. They deserve this face-to-face, not in an awkward break-up letter or phone message timed when you know they can’t answer the phone. Those are tactics for cowardly ex-boyfriends, not for someone honest. Like I am sure you are. Someone who lurks behind the backs of those who trust them is not someone I am interested in having join my school.

Here is what you need to know about transferring to me.

I am not your old teacher. Being certified does not automatically turn us all into teachers who have the same experience, methods and philosophy. I run my classes differently. This is what works for me, and has worked for my students. My schedules, fees, and policies are a part of how I work best, both as a teacher and also as a parent and support to my family and personal life. Give me a chance if you like, but please do not try to change me.

You are a talented dancer. I can see that plainly. I am already thinking of the steps you will learn first, the moves you will do nicely. I know you have choreography from your old teacher that you love, that you feel comfortable with and have won with before. I know you’re eager to show them to me, hoping they will have a new home within my steps. But part of the restyling period mandated by my organization is for the purpose of giving you time to assimilate my steps and styling. Please don’t hang on to the old you. Give me a clean slate to work with. Learn my movements and my sequences. You’ll look nice doing these too.

Change takes time, sweat and committment. While you are doing well now picking things up, some things will take time. Changing the way you move, how your muscles have learned one movement in favor of doing it a new way. Becoming the dancer I’d like to see. Some moves will be hard. Some will be “too easy”. Trust me. Trust yourself. This is not like a new costume, that instantly transforms you with no more work than doing up the zipper or tying the tie. This may take months. This may take a year, or two. Expecting better results out of the starting gate is like expecting to lose 50 pounds the day after starting a new diet. This kind of patience will serve you your entire life, long after you stop dancing. It’s the principle of delayed gratification.

I know you have a lot to share. I know that your teacher does a lot of great things. And that they do a lot of things that made you angry or sad or frustrated. These experiences are private, and between you and your teacher. I’d rather not hear your insider info, for better or for worse. I’d rather my students not hear it either. We don’t gossip. We’d rather you didn’t either. It spreads quickly and everyone’s hands get dirty. Irish dance as a community doesn’t need that. Your teacher is a person and a professional and deserves respect, no matter what they have done. I’d like to think that I’ve been given chances to change and grow and mend my ways, even if my former students move on in the end.

Oh My, I’ve given you a lot of info. I hope you are not on overload. If you go ahead and make the decision to do this, you are welcome. I’ll teach you with no preconcieved expectations. We’ll start at square one together, and make you the best dancer you are capable of being. Let me know what you need, and I’ll let you know what I need from you. This will be an exciting new chapter for you. Let’s make it count.

New Year Means New Posts

Merry Christmas to everyone!

I want to say thank you to everyone who has read and commented on my blog. It has been really fulfilling for me to express my feelings and ideas here and get such honest and positive feedback. I love to write, so this has been a great outlet for me.

In a dance form so intense, full of passion, emotion and relationships, there are a lot of situations to be canvassed. I’d love to address questions that you may have about how to succeed, both personally, with friends or with your mentors.

So, for Christmas, may I ask a favor?

Please reply with questions that you would like answered or blogged about this coming year. I won’t publish the responses, but hole them up for use as inspiration this coming year.

Thanks for your help to make the Irish Dance Teacher’s Blog more meaningful for all our visitors!

What the Judges Want

As everyone heads into Oireachtas qualifier season, I’d like to take a moment to offer my thoughts on those stern people seated at tables in front of your stage. They are armed with a silver bell, multiple pens and the almighty score sheets. You’d like to forget that they are there, but you know that your success this year depends upon them. (As much as call-in votes would be fun to do…)

Who are they? Where did they come from? Why are they here?

They were selected by the teachers of your region for multiple reasons, which I won’t canvass at this moment. They are highly qualified and trained adjudicators from all over the world. They have seen thousands of dancers in their time, have selected world champions and placed incredible teams. They have seen success first hand, because they have created it.

But who are they really?

Each one walked into an Irish Dance class as a youth. Each one pointed a clumsy toe at their first feis. Each one worked to learn a new Jig, to perfect a Hornpipe. Each one slipped on a new costume and laced their hardshoes with care. Each one experienced frustration, felt the elation of victory. Each one had injuries, and fought their way back. Each one danced and danced for years and felt that that was the best thing in their life.

Not only this, but each of those people worked to become a teacher, because the dance was so important to them that they wanted to share it. They wanted to improve the sport, inspire coming generations and feel a part of this world even after their dancing days were done. They have seen children grow in mind, body and spirit as they tame the dragons of discouragement, pessimism, weakness and defeat. They have helped in that journey. They loved those kids who walked through their doors. Many still do as they continue to teach and judge on the side.

Each has their own preferences, their own Essential List of “What Irish Dance should look like”. Some want lift. Others want footwork. Some want powerful movement, while others would rather see precise and sharp. Some want carriage, others want the newest movements. Some like a polished appearance, all want solid rhythm.

But do you know what each of them really wants to see?

They want to look at you dancing and feel what they felt years ago. They want to feel the drive, the passion, the elation and the happiness in soaring across the stage. They want to know that you want this so badly, that you love it so much. That it is a part of you. Because it’s a part of them.

Practice (the other way to get there)

I know many of you took piano lessons at some point in your life.  You went to one lesson a week or month, right?  What did you do on the other days where you were not at a lesson.

I didn’t practice either… see how well I play the piano?  I had enough natural pitch and rhythm and sight-reading to maybe convince my teacher I had thought about practicing during the week.  I’m sure I wasn’t her star pupil.  And after all the battles over practicing, my mom let me quit.  To this day I kind of blame her for it.  I wish I could play well.  But she was not about to waste the money on lessons, gas to drive there, and music to purchase without my holding up the end of the bargain.

Why is it that Dancers think that they can improve by just going to class?

Practice makes perfect, right?  It is SOOOO frustrating when we work together on a piece of your reel, we finally make some technical progress, and I’m excited for your breakthrough.  Then next week, you dance your reel, and ta-da! It was just like it was at the beginning of class last time.  You didn’t even think about what we had worked on, much less actually practiced it.  So we start over.  You think class is boring, I think you don’t listen to me.

The Solution?

Say it with me… Prac-tice.  Good!  Again.  Practice.  And louder.  PRACTICE!

And I don’t mean kick off your shoes, run through your reel and one step of your Hornpipe during the commercial break of ‘So you think you can dance’.  I also don’t mean turn on Lord of the Dance and learn the routines.  I also don’t mean work on the Slip Jig of your buddy who is already in Champs and has new steps that you like.

Practice is having a big enough space to work, free from the TV, facebook or your cell phone.  Practice is having your dance shoes on.  Practice is a 10 minute warmup, drills like we do in class, isolated practice of sticky spots and what your teacher worked with you on last class, Feis Runthroughs, Endurance Reps (the dance twice without a break), Video Taping and reviewing, One Dance in Depth, and 10 minutes of cooldown and stretching.

Just think…

Beginner+ 20 minutes of practice a day for 3 months= Advanced Beginner in all your dances at your next feis.

Advanced Beginner+ 30 Minutes of practice a day for 3 months= Novice in your stronger set of dances, high placements in all the rest.

Novice+ 45 minutes of practice a day for 6 months= Open Prizewinner, Baby.

Prizewinner+ 1 hour of practice a day for a year= Preliminary (at least by my “teacher discretion” qualifying method)

Preliminary+ 1.5 Hours of practice a day for a year= Open Championship

Open Championship+ 2 Hours of Practice a day (even on class days) for 2 years= Worlds Recall

Yes, that’s beginner to Worlds Recaller in 5 years.

Sound extreme?  What does it take to become an  olympic gymast?

A Concert Violinist?  Awesome Article: Concert violinist

Or, a bit closer to home, a Ballerina?

If you want to be a champion, you have to work like a champion.

Dancer, dismissed.

Mom, listen up.

I have heard some of you whine about how you don’t know why so and so is moving up while your daughter, who “loves to dance” but “isn’t as aggressive” is not.  You ask me about rewards for good behaviour, making your kid practice charts, scare tactics, etc.

Did you pay for your Daughter’s Irish Dance class or not?   Do you buy her new shoes, a new wig, drive her to class every week, take her to feiseanna?  A new dress if she practices for 45 minutes a day should not be the reward.  Getting to Irish Dance should be the reward.

This is not Math Homework.  This is something your child wants to do.  If they are “well-rounded”, often meaning they have too many activities on their plate to really gain mastery in any one of them, then expecting to become a champion is not a reasonable expectation.  If your child really wants to do this, it will need to be one of two or maybe three  primary focuses in their life.

Talk to me (your child’s teacher) about it.  I am a fan of the hard-nosed parent in this respect.   If they don’t think it’s worth their while to practice what I’ve worked with them on last week, I don’t want to see them in class today… it’s a waste of my time and theirs, and a waste of your money.  I’ll understand their absence if they are getting some tough love.

You should only have to give the support on your end if she is willing to put in the time on hers.

When everyone does their part:  Teacher gives steps and feedback, Parent gives some funding and lots of support, Dancer gives focus and effective practice- the results are incredible.

A different perspective

I know this is going to sound callous, but this will be good for you.

You didn’t know how much it hurt her to be ostracized, just because she was good.  Because she worked hard, was focused instead of chatting along the back wall.  Perhaps you thought that being a Championship dancer was reward enough to cover all the ostracization.   So you went ahead and made her feel like no one liked her.

Perhaps you were jealous.  Perhaps you didn’t understand.

But you do now.

You want it now.  I love to see the fire start burning in you.  You’re getting better… you’re on the cusp of championship.  You’re working hard, starting to sweat during class, although you wouldn’t have wanted to before.  You ask for extra help, just like she does.  And you actually take my advice, just like she does. You want it bad enough to let go of that teenage pride, and it’s paying off.

And the jealousy is now being directed toward you.    You never knew how it felt to have friends you had for years suddenly not want to talk to you, or at least chat like before.  Maybe you didn’t notice because you spend your time in class working  hard.   I know now that those same friends, the ones who started with you, are not understanding why suddenly you’re getting attention from me.  I’d give it to them too if they would take it sincerely.

Maybe talk to “the chosen one” again.  Maybe she would love for you to ask her about one of the moves in your reel.  Maybe she’d love someone to just acknowlege she’s there.   It’s true: Teenagers love attention, but they want good friends more.  So cut her some slack, if only because you’d like your own.

What it means to me

Being in a rather limited-publicity sport, it’s easy for even family members to not understand what I do, when I do it or How.  But especially Why.

“Why can’t you come camping?”

“Why are you so stressed?”

“Why do you deal with all of that crap?”

“Why did you keep dancing after having kids?”

I don’t understand it myself sometimes.    When I think about the  drama queens, Stage Moms, a less-than-perfect organization, and no money,  of course I even question myself.

If I was out to be a perfect business owner, this dream would have been in the trash years ago.  Same for being a brilliant choreographer, a star performer,  Saavy marketer (you get the idea).  If I wanted to be universally popular, respected and admired?  Won’t hold out for that one.

But there’s this feeling inside of me that I was meant to do this.

I do this because of the kids.  Amazing young men and women that come in just filled to the brim with this life energy.  To see their eyes light up when they do that new move right for the first time.  To hear them talking with their “Wednesday Night Best Friends”.  To get little notes from the Moms of these kids letting me know that I’ve changed their son or daughter’s lives for the better.   To be inspired every time they dance with “Wow, I helped them get there”.    To get the same thrill to see my first feis dancer with a medal in her palm as seeing my first “from scratch” student standing on the Podium. Goals that are made, planned, teamworked and met.  That I can be a part of it.

It means that I have a purpose here on this earth, to bring everyone to know their creator by discovering what they can do with the body he has given them.  So that’s why I do it- that’s what it means to me.

Pain

I’m so sorry.    When you came in with the cast I’m sure you were thinking “she’s going to be so angry at me- probably “Irish” ground me from ever ever EVER jumping on a trampoline again/playing soccer again/goofing off with my friends again.” I don’t need to be mad. Sometimes experience is the best lesson, and you are your best teacher.

I know the frustrations of having the injury, the fear once the brace comes off of daring to defy gravity again.   So I’ll just tell you the best things I can:

1.  Listen to your Doctor.  He may not realize the commitment level of an Irish Dancer, but he does know what is going on with that fourth tarsal.

2.  I know you want to dance.  DON’T.  Don’t even do it halfway.  Don’t even do it hanging on to your kitchen counter.  Just go back to the floor- do some crunches, some leg lifts standing on the good foot.  Watch some videos, make some cookies for your dancing pals. DON’T DANCE.

3.  Coming back will be hard.  It’s okay, I’m not expecting you to be up to full strength in the first practice.  But know that I love you enough to push you after that.  Babying the injury is easy, but the pain of working the muscles will be worth it when you can fly again.

You will Fly again.

Joy in the Journey

I have noticed lately that my students are getting more selfish.  They used to be such a close-knit team, helping and supporting one another.  It’s been really disheartening to hear the following phrases:

“I feel like you’re giving more attention to so-and-so than me/my daughter”

“They all hate me because I’m doing better in competition than them”

“It’s just not worth the time and effort if we’re not even going to recall”

“Not everyone is committed”

“I just want to focus on my solo dancing”

For a while, I tried to fix every problem for everyone.  I gave extra lessons, worked them so hard in rehearsal, gave criticism and ultimatums.  But it is not the right thing.

1.  I want the kids to get to the end of their dancing career (be it at 15 or 85) feeling like they didn’t waste time, money and emotional investments.   And not because they made it to worlds, but because they felt like dancing and learning changed them for the better.   That the friendships they nurtured will make it further than the failed Oireachtas team, because people matter, not placements.

2.  I’m sick of the selfishness this has created.  Each class is like a battle for my attention, either outright or through guilt trips from parents.  The dancers don’t talk to each other anymore.  They don’t try in team class anymore (“What’s the point if not everyone is giving 100%” they say).  I wish they could support each other again.

I would welcome comments about how I can bring the Joy in the Journey back to these kids, before they get where they thought they wanted to go and look back at what could have been.  Thanks.

Inspirational Video

I do Youtube… sometimes there is a new move that oldie me can’t replicate, so I comb Parade o Champions videos till I find what I need.

I came across this one, and I think it is fabulous!

How the World Works…

You’re fabulous.  You’ve been a natural since you stepped in my studio.  You have this grace of movement, perfect timing and lovely carriage.   You’re everything a teacher could wish for.   Except dedicated.  It might be that you’re just taking it for granted.  It might be your ultra-perfectionism getting in the way of letting yourself fly.  I’m not sure.

But it kills me when you dance next to her.  Watch her.  See what dedication is.  It’s the sweat rolling down the back, the hands clenched in fists, the limping back to the back of the room to go at it again.  She wants it so bad, and has the issues most Irish Dancers do… not high enough, sharp enough or fast enough.  If you work like she works, you’d be on a worlds podium in two years… and you just barely started prelim.

She is my favorite.  I know the parents all say that you’re my favorite, because you got into championships. But little do they know that I like the kids best, who want it most.