I quite love what I do. I have the opportunity to perform but then I also get the chance to teach children in the practice of the arts that have been so kind and challenging for me. On top of this, I’ve had a lot of time to think back upon my own training and reflect on how I’ve chosen to train students today and I’d like to share what I’ve learned with you.
I personally responded to positive reinforcement in my own training. Whether it was gymnastics or ballet, I found that I was encouraged to continue “pleasing” the teacher when I felt as though I was already succeeding in some way or another. This is not “everybody gets a trophy,” but “everyone has unique qualities that make them special,” and the desire to work on “weaker” skills becomes stronger when you feel like you’re shortening the gap between good and great (and not poor from mediocre). Now that I teach, I’ve noticed that the majority of other kids respond in a very similar way while a (very) few need a slightly more aggressive approach.
Little wins encourage the desire to work harder. If you feel like nothing you do is right, it’s too easy to just say “f*ck it” and quit.
So I’ve become the type of teacher who appreciates the positives that exist while encouraging efforts in the arenas that require a little more focus. On a slightly more elevated note, I also find that I prefer to teach life skills. Yes, flexibility is important for dancers, but the ability to recover from rejection or try again after perceived failure is a valuable skill for everyone in every arena (I’ve actually been floored by my students – at moments where I thought I was at my wit’s end for the system’s shenanigans, I’ve been contacted by past students letting me know that they’ve been pushing past their own obstacles and, love them, they seem far more resilient and amazing than I could ever hope to be). Thus, if someone quits dance or theater, my lessons are still applicable.
So teaching is amazing.
On another note, age and experience makes one cynical and suspicious. I wish this wasn’t the case but I’ve dealt with my share of skeezy photographers, one-sided contracts and sketchy arrangements. I’ve overheard recruiters talk about the awareness of their personal “power” over candidates; men talk about their “powerlessness” around the “feminine wiles” of women (screw you, you jerkheads, I guarantee you it’s all in your head, you dirty-sass jerks); and a variety of other weird, sketchy, and suspect (but sometimes legitimate) business prospects.
I wish I was younger and less assuming. But the fact is, looking back on videos and journals and such of my past self, I was pretty suspect of other people’s motivations from a pretty young age. Blame my USMC dad. But here I am now, training a new generation of students, remaining pretty particular about avoiding passing on my own suspicious tendencies while passing on my philosophical and physical awareness and knowledge. (By the way, I miss you Miss Mahr. I know you were looking out for us and I remember a couple of your potentially strange reactions during Nutcracker rehearsals and I hope that I’m making you proud despite the fact that I’m not involved in the traditional world of ballet). The world isn’t always awesome. I’m 100% aware that the rest of the world is 100% for itself. But I weirdly maintain that “man is still good.”
So teaching young kids. Good. And frighteningly heavy. It’s not like we talk about the philosophies of man (at the moment, my lessons focus primarily upon upper body port de bras, flexibility, ballet basics and alignment), but we all know that the earliest lessons form the deepest lessons: the earlier an experience in one’s life (experience), the deeper the influence of its’ lessons. Someone who knows what a “port de bras” is at the age of seven will be able to call upon it easier at any age beyond that. But someone thinking about alignment at age 14 will retain the requests better than anyone younger.
And when you want to train actors… with life experience… of experience and loss and hope and want…
You need a stupid MFA.
Bah. Humbug.
Erika Diane 