By Justine Mann

Over the last few years I have become increasingly concerned about some of the judges and teachers at dance competitions and conventions. While some are amazing teachers who know their stuff and have a great deal to offer to our students, others seem to have a distinct gap in their understanding of technique.

I have been a judge, and it is no easy task. Sometimes you teach all day at a convention and adjudicate all evening, putting in a 16-hour day. I get it. Sometimes you are so tired that you misspeak or reverse your words. It’s understandable and I really do empathize, but I’m not talking about those occasions. I’m talking about giving incorrect information or making ridiculous comments.

For argument’s sake I’m going to focus on ballet technique. I look forward to a good critique of my students. A teacher can make all the corrections in the world, but sometimes it takes one other person to say it differently—and suddenly the student gets it. I always hope that the judges’ critiques will give my dancers more understanding of how they can improve.

Recently I took my students to a high-end, distinguished dance competition. On the outside it looked good, with seasoned judges with good working backgrounds and resumes. Afterward, my dancers and I sat down to listen to the judges’ comments. I do not censor the remarks; my teens have been around long enough to know the drill.

We were listening to the comments on a duo when suddenly all eyes whipped around and looked at me. Did I hear what I thought I heard? I replayed the comment, and sure enough, I hadn’t misunderstood. One of the judges said (and I quote), “I don’t understand why this is a lyrical dance as there are no lyrics in it.” I cannot possibly defend that lack of education. I try to teach my students respect for professionals in this field as well as for other dancers and studios, but I can’t ask my students to respect someone who has no idea what he or she is doing.

The next few examples are verbatim. One judge told my ballet students to “tuck your hips under really hard.” A personal favorite of mine: “Whip your leg around past your hip line in a fouetté turn.” And yet another said, “Your hips need to be over your heels, not your toes, when you are on pointe.”

When a pas de bourrée is called a “behind, side, front” or when a judge or teacher calls a tour en l’air “that turning jump thing,” it takes away from the integrity of the work.

Why is it so hard to find people who understand ballet technique? When a pas de bourrée is called a “behind, side, front” or when a judge or teacher calls a tour en l’air “that turning jump thing,” it takes away from the integrity of the work. It dishonors it.

One panel member’s only feedback for a 2 ½-minute ballet group was, “They should use more gel in their hair.” How is this helpful or even relevant? Don’t waste my time and, more important, my students’ money.

By definition, if you are a judge you are holding yourself up as an expert. That means you should be able to speak knowledgeably and explain your reasoning. So my question is: Should we accept these comments or should there be a way to bring these problems to the attention of someone higher up without risk of looking like a troublemaker?

If a competition has ballet categories, I feel that it is the responsibility of the company to have qualified judges at the table; otherwise, don’t have a ballet section. It is irresponsible to allow people to give out this erroneous information. I know better (I have an extensive background in ballet), but young and new teachers use the judges’ comments to improve their own teaching skills. At best it’s bad information and at worst it could lead to a career-ending injury. Either way, it’s not good enough.

I have spent much of my life educating dancers and teachers; I continue to educate myself so that I can be a better teacher. Why do these people not take the same pride in dance history and the teaching profession?

I know there are wonderful, caring teachers out there; I have had the privilege and honor of working with them. Why is it OK to be mediocre? As teachers and judges, we owe these young, wonderful dancers so much more than that.