"Teacher"

Once a week for the past three months I was exposed to two-hour blocks of frustration, joy, laughter, plies and, sometimes, sweat. Yesterday, it ended.

Upon leaving the Evergreen Elementary School stage, where I had conducted dance classes while the high school wrestlers grunted and bumped on the other side of the curtain, my bags and hands were filled with presents and flowers from my students.

My students. Some of them, the younger ones in kindergarten and first grade, called me, simply, "Teacher." When I first heard that, I was alerted to the fact that introductions are crucial when dealing with children. But the title amused me greatly, so much that I never bothered to change it.

When I first started teaching the classes – one for kindergarten and first graders, another other for middle schoolers – I was forced to think about the role dance has played in my life. It’s a huge topic and one that I’ve often wanted to write at great length about, dissect. It’s overwhelming.

In terms of dipping into my memory bank to find inspiration and guidance for teaching, it was hard. The faces of the many dance teachers and choreographers I had growing up flashed through my mind, as did the various rooms and buildings where classes were held. It all had an affect – the walls and mirrors that surrounded me as I tried my hardest to match my movement to the teachers, the resonating voices that praised and corrected.

There is material I learned that I will never forget – the movement embedded in the muscles and joints. I realized early that the movement I chose to teach had to do with just this – body memorization – and didn’t necessarily have a real rhyme and reason. There was no way I could convey the‘why’s or‘how’s to my students. Why were they doing this particular movement? How would it add to their overall growth as a dancer? Luckily, none of them asked. Like myself, dance had never been a science. It was just the search of finding joy in movement.

As a dance teacher, I felt I had succeeded every time one of my students said, "cool" after I demonstrated some movement.

And I felt intense failure when, during one class, I asked one of the little girls if she wanted to rejoin the class – it was the only time I had issued a time out – and she said, "no."

There were ups and downs but the end result was beautiful. I felt so proud when each student in the middle school class performed a self-choreographed piece. I loved that, if nothing else, in this small town of Wrangell, I was able to supply them with an outlet for creativity. Despite skill level and dance experience, each student enthusiastically performed solo in front of an audience of people. It’s something I can assign and promote, but it’s not something I can actually do, which is what’s so amazing. In many ways I think I looked up to my students more than they looked up to me.

I received this email today from a father of one my students. While yesterday’s open houses, which was the culmination of the past 12 weeks, definitely made it all worth it, this email confirmed it even more:

Lisa,
Thanks for working with Tiffany and all the other girls on their dance. We are very lucky to have such a talented instructor such as yourself in this specialized area. You add to Wrangell's variety of good talents. I'm not a dancer (and never will be) but I enjoyed the open house today. Keep up the good work! Some of your stretch moves scared me!