A dance teacher’s dream inventions

By Julie Holt Lucia

Have you ever found yourself making a list, say, before you go to Target, and it starts out looking like this: tissues, soap refill, CD-Rs? But then somehow it turns into something like this: tissues, soap refill, CD-Rs, sanity, body double.

(Illustration by Jodi O'Rourke)

No doubt many a studio owner and dance teacher has wished for some magical or otherwise impossible-to-obtain items. We are passionate about our work, but we’re not immune to the day-to-day issues that drive us batty.

Inevitably, we daydream about solutions that are nowhere near realistic and products that could never be made—at least not on our planet. We look longingly at our preschool classes, wondering how it might be possible to bottle the dancers’ energy and turn it into a piña-colada–flavored elixir. We glance foggily at the clock, hoping it would move slower to give us one more chance to work on that eight-count, and in the same breath wishing it would move faster so we could get home already and eat Cheetos in peace.

Dance teachers are by nature a creative breed. In our unique profession, there are many fantasy-worthy inventions that could make the day run more smoothly, get the customers taken care of, and help us all appear a little less nutty. Are they realistic? Not really. Are they practical? Um, no. Are they fun to dream about anyway? Oh, yes. 

The perfect dancewear. We need stylish, affordable, comfortable, sweat-proof, slimming, non-fading, non-smelling, and professional-looking teaching clothes—preferably with built-in lights on the back that flash “Yes, I am available” or “Sorry, I’m on my way into class.” Add a self-replenishing snack pocket and you’ve got the ideal outfit to get through a long day of classes, rehearsals, answering phone calls, and putting out fires. (Gotta keep the energy up until they invent that piña colada elixir!) Are you listening, dancewear makers? Let it be known that this is the holy grail of clothes for dance teachers.

The all-in-one dance bag. And speaking of dancewear items, who hasn’t wished she had a Mary Poppins–like dance bag? What a great dance teacher invention/magic trick this would be: A truly bottomless supply of shoes, clothes, hair elastics, socks, sticky notes, water bottles, and more. All right at your fingertips. I’m sure more than one dance teacher has wished she could pop a lamp or spare mirror out of her bag, just like in the movie. Left that important recital CD at home? No worries—pull a duplicate out of the bag. Did that loose tap fall off your shoe? Not a problem—there’s a new one right here. This bag would have it all, and your imagination would be the limit.

Self-cleaning floors. Let’s all admit that we don’t enjoy cleaning. Or we don’t enjoy spending money for other people to clean. Whichever it is for your studio, you know it’s a highly necessary pain in the rear. And what’s one of the most time-consuming tasks? Taking care of our special floors, of course. What we need are dance floors that do the work themselves, just like a lawn sprinkler system, but better. We could install water and neutral-pH cleansers in little hidden spigots across the studio perimeter. Then, at a programmable time overnight, the spray would begin and then dry to an impeccable finish. Not a speck of dust or glitter in sight.

The secret space. During class we could use an old-invention-turned-new-again: the trapdoor. Most dance teachers could use one every now and then, to disappear into when they need to take a deep breath and count to 10 (or maybe just 8?). When you feel your patience dwindling, you could slip away during stretches or a water break, do some silent screaming, and then reappear refreshed.

We look longingly at our preschool classes, wondering how it might be possible to bottle the dancers’ energy and turn it into a piña-colada–flavored elixir.

Or when you’ve gone off on one too many tangents about how a waltz is in 3/4 time, which means we’re going to accent the 1, just like you might hear in the first act of The Sleeping Beauty, which was originally choreographed by Petipa, and . . . the glassy-eyed dancers are looking at you like you have three heads. Then what? You escape through the trapdoor, privately refocus your thoughts, and emerge ready to continue the lesson. Three heads back down to one.

Radar detection. Speaking of the classroom, and preschoolers in particular, we all know (unfortunately) that some kids do not do the telltale have-to-go-potty-crotch-grab-hop. Some just freeze and go. Others cave in during a fit of laughter. And still others are simply determined to keep practicing, no matter what nature has in mind. So why not have a full-bladder radar system? Laser-infused detectors mounted in the classroom would alert us with flashing lights once a bursting bladder was detected. This would also eliminate (ahem) the need to question those little ones who have to go potty every five minutes, or when the potty parade starts and everyone has to go. Class interruptions would diminish greatly. Problem solved.

Reminder responses. You know when you finally come up with a great reply to those most-often-asked questions and you think, “Yes! Well done, me!” And then you promptly forget what you said and have to start over again with the next customer? We could solve that problem with a special response-recorder device. You could wear it like a beeper (remember beepers?) with a tiny earbud attached and simply push a button when you need it. So when a well-meaning mom asks you for the eleventy-thousandth time why preschoolers don’t learn pirouettes, instead of launching into your usual rushed recitation of dance pedagogy, you could push that button and your device would bleat the reminder in your ear: “The dance class curriculum includes age-appropriate gross motor skills and dance vocabulary. We build your child’s confidence from the inside out.” And then you could pick up the conversation from there. Ta-da!

Mind management. And now the invention to rule them all: A dance-brain temporary shutoff switch, so we could sleep peacefully without choreography endlessly looping through our minds like an unstoppable earworm, only worse. This would also prevent pre-dress–rehearsal nightmares about broken floors, missing stagehands, and stampeding customers shouting, “I’ve paid you enough already!” A simple flip of the switch on your nightcap (no, not that kind) would lull you into a soothing slumber, and you would wake up refreshed and ready to face the new day ahead. No more dancing (or crying) in your sleep.

These inventions might not be rational solutions, but you have to admit they’re both comforting and entertaining to consider. We studio owners and dance teachers know we’re lucky to have the problems we have—we’re fortunate to get to do what we love for a living in the first place. Who else gets to pretend to dance like a monkey at 10:30 a.m.? And see that 8-year-old’s smile glow when you tell her how much her arabesque has improved? And watch that dad tear up because his daughter’s painful shyness is nearly gone? We have the best jobs in the world.

But oh, if I could just get myself one of those all-in-one dance bags. It would make my days so much easier. Or some self-cleaning floors. Or a dance-brain shut-off switch. In the meantime, a real piña colada will have to do the trick.