From Teaching Artist “Fail” to “Lightbulb” Moment:  

In 1998 when I took on my first teaching artist gig as a grad student in NYC, I had already been teaching dance consistently – and what I called successfully – for over 10 years.

The kids at the competition studios I taught at received their fair share of “Bestest Celestial Supreme Elite” awards; older adults brought their friends to my weekly American social dance session at the senior center; and I was regularly asked to sub dance classes at one of the public universities.

So, I stepped in arrogance into that Brownsville, Brooklyn, elementary school 20 years ago, fully expecting to just “do my thing” and for the classes to just buy into the awesomeness I was offering.

Ha. Ha.

What naivete. I no longer shudder at the memory but I still roll my eyes.

An arts teacher in the hot zone

The fledgling after-school program I was working for had the barest minimum of people-power, programming expertise and school support. 

Students came from one of the most violent neighborhoods in the US at the time. All the students qualified for free lunch.

One day a parent threatened to come back with a gun if we didn’t release his child to him, and another day, NYPD locked us in the school for hours until they deemed it safe enough for kids to walk home at 8pm. A grandparent came to pick up a child smelling and acting intoxicated. That child was released to her. So….yeah.

First day…mayday!

On the first day though I go in traditional dance class style and expect the class to follow obediently. The scene below was typical (familiar to anyone?):

OK, stand in a straight line facing me. OK. Stand in straight line. OK STAND IN A –fine.  Let me put you where — no you stay there. A hug? How nice, thank you! OK, get back in – sorry, I can’t take you to the bathroom now. OK everybody! Stand still when I — another hug? OK. Hello? Hello? Where are you going? OK! If you can hear me clap once. If you — honey, you have to let go of my leg now. Everybody…hey! HEY! If you can hear me clap once. If you can — you two keep your hands to yourself. What happened to this line? I told you to stand — GET OUT OF MY BAG!

My way wasn’t working. But I stubbornly kept trying to bend the class to my ways. Every day I tweaked some element hoping it would be the magic key, but they were all still from a traditional way of teaching dance:

Maybe today I’d just focus on a triplet step? Or today, maybe we’ll try some group choreography? Or today, if I have a teen assistant, I’ll just work with the kids who “want” to dance and the rest will color in the corner?

I was still approaching the class from this hierarchical “I’m the teacher-you’re the student-do what I say or you’re wrong” place. And that wasn’t working with my non-traditional dance students.

Changing the artist, not the environment

It was quite a challenging situation, and I lasted a semester. I wasn’t prepared as a teaching artist (or a person, at the time) making a paltry hourly rate to effectively deliver under the circumstances. We all held responsibility for how our best intentions didn’t match the shoddy results.

It wasn’t fair in my mind to deprive those children of what I knew could be transformative arts experiences because the adults couldn’t get it together. I didn’t want a lack of resources or “proper” support to ever excuse a crappily-taught class ever again.

If I believed so much in the power of dance, then I needed to be able to show and prove as a teaching artist — immediately, in any situation, with any population.

And this is the ultimate goal of my dance education work: to offer movement experiences in such a democratic and inclusive way that all audiences can find an immediate connection to themselves, and a deeper sense of community with others. 

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