Archive for the ‘Rhee's Blog’ Category

By Rhee Gold

What seems like a bad attitude might just be low self-esteem.

“Susie, you eat too much!” exclaims a young dance student’s mom. “Susie, you’re a pain in the butt!” screeches her older brother. “Susie, can you just be quiet for one minute!” yells her dad.

This is the language and message Susie has heard, day in and day out, for her first 10 years of life. As a result she has a big problem with self-esteem. In school she’s quiet and doesn’t smile very much because she’s afraid she’s not good enough or that someone is going to yell at her. At dance school Susie is intimidated too, but there she seems to pout all the time. Her teacher has no idea what Susie’s home situation is like, so she reads the pouting as evidence of a bad attitude. In reality Susie loves to come to dance school and looks up to her teacher; she just doesn’t know how to express those feelings because she has no confidence—a direct result of her upbringing.

Susie’s dance teacher gets frustrated with her pouting and tells her that with that attitude she will never be a dancer. Susie used to get so excited to go to dance school to escape from the negativity at home, but now she has another adult in her life who is tearing her down. Each week her dance teacher makes a snide remark that duplicates the atmosphere she has at home. She becomes even more intimidated, thinking that her dance teacher doesn’t like her. Even worse, she tells herself, “I stink at dance, too!” Before long she drops out of dance. Why go to dancing school to be berated when you can get that at home?

Children like Susie can be frustrating, but as dance teachers we must accept the responsibility that we will have a major influence on each child in our classroom. Understanding that responsibility means that we have an obligation to help build self-esteem and to encourage all children to be the best they can be.

Maybe Susie’s dance teacher could look at her and say something like, “Susie, I know you have a beautiful smile—let me see that smile right now!” or “Come on up to the front of the class, Susie. I want you to help me today.” With that sort of interaction the teacher can change Susie’s behavior; she can create a safe haven for this child that will allow her to come out of her shell. Susie might become a confident adult because her dance teacher made the choice to encourage, rather than to discourage, her.

With more than 3 million children filling classrooms in dance schools each week, teachers should count building self-esteem as equal in priority to teaching the dance curriculum. The following are some suggestions to help all teachers create a caring dance experience for every child.

●  Reward students. Offer praise or recognition when they accomplish a certain movement or when they seem to be giving their all in your classroom. Do all that you can to emphasize the positive things that they do, and don’t hound them with the negative.

●  Take your students’ emotions and feelings seriously. Don’t belittle them with phrases like “We’ve been working on this so long; I don’t understand why you don’t have it yet” or “You’ll never be a good dancer because you don’t try hard enough.”

●  Define policies clearly but allow breathing space for your students within those limits.

●  Be a good role model. Let children know you feel good about yourself and that you have a passion for teaching them. Sometimes it is good to let them know you make mistakes and that you learn from them.

●  Have reasonable expectations for your students. Realize that they need to learn the basics before they can accomplish the big stuff. Combining movement that they feel comfortable with and steps that are more challenging is a good way to balance your class. Always end the class with something that every student will feel good doing.

●  Discuss issues or problems without putting blame on a student’s character. Those who feel like they’re being attacked will go deeper into their shells rather than trying to come up with a solution.

●  Use positive comments like “Thank you, that was much better this time” or “You really impressed me this week.” Avoid criticisms like “Why can’t you keep up?” or “How many times have I told you?”

●  If your students compete, do not put them under pressure to win. Encourage them to be the best they can be and be satisfied with that. Never confront them with demeaning language if they do not perform well or if they don’t win what you had hoped they would. Use encouraging language so that they don’t feel that they’ve let you down. There will be plenty of time to work on the flaws when you get back to the classroom.

The Susies of the world create an opportunity for dance teachers to learn how to deal with various kinds of personalities, because all of us will deal with children who seem withdrawn, belligerent, disinterested, or frightened during our teaching careers. Before you leap to passing judgment on them, remember that there is much that dance teachers don’t know about their students. By challenging yourself to come up with a friendly way to deal with these often misunderstood children, they can leave your classroom with their self-esteem intact or even boosted, even if they have to go home to a bad situation. By creating the right atmosphere and using a nurturing approach, you can make dance class a refuge for children who have little else that’s positive in their lives.

Dear Rhee,
I am one of the lucky dance teachers with a husband who supports what I do. He has dinner waiting on the table when I come home and he takes on as much responsibility with our three children as I do. For years he has been encouraging me to buy a building for my school because he calls the rent that I pay “highway robbery.” Together we have been saving for three years to come up with a down payment for a piece of land that we know is a fantastic location for the dance school of our dreams. We are ready with a down payment, building plans, and the financing to make it a reality.

The problem is that I am not sure that I want to continue teaching dance. After having my school for 11 years, I feel burned out. I’m scared that if I build this building, I may never be able to get out. This doesn’t mean that I would stop teaching now, but paying rent makes me feel that I have an out when I’m ready. I really don’t see myself doing this for another 10 years. Probably I would teach for someone else, and then later I would like to go back to school.

The problem is that my husband is so obsessed with this building that I am nervous about telling him that I don’t think this is what I want to do. I am confused because this is what I wanted when I married my husband, but my priorities have changed. I’m afraid my husband is going to be disappointed or not support my wish to continue paying rent. What would you do? —Elaine
 
Hello Elaine,
Right about now, we have many readers who are thinking, “I will take her husband and the chance to build my own building any day!” But the reality is that you can’t move forward on building this school if you are feeling burned out before you ever lay the foundation.

I am a big one for going with your instinct, especially when you have to make a life decision like this. I’m sensing that yours is telling you that this is not the right move at this point in your life. If your husband has dinner waiting on the table and is so supportive of what you do, then I have a feeling that he will also support your decision not to move forward on this project.

Maybe it’s time for the two of you to decide whether there might be another business that you could go into together. Or maybe your burnout will not last and five years from now you’ll decide that building your school is something you want to do. Whatever the next chapter is, it sounds like you are very levelheaded and that you are extremely lucky to have the husband that you do. Go with your instinct and don’t be afraid to share your feelings with your husband. All the best to you. —Rhee

Note: This article was originally published in Dance Magazine, November 2001. To this day, I receive comments from teachers and male dancers about this piece. It is obviously a hot topic in the dance education field.

By Rhee Gold

Earlier this year, I was helping a dance-teacher friend prepare a few of her dancers for a title competition. The dancers were to be scored on a talent presentation as well as a judge’s interview. My job was to prepare each of the kids for the dreaded interview. This was not the first time I had done this; I have been part of more than a dozen mock interviews over the past couple of years.

The first couple of dancers–girls–went through the process smoothly. The third one was a 15-year-old boy who had trained with this particular teacher since the age of 3. I had seen him perform many times and I knew he was excellent. He’s the kind of kid who always stands out, not only because he is a strong technician but because he gives the audience that “I love what I do” feeling whenever he hits the stage.

He did very well with the first few questions, as I expected from such a personable kid. Then I said, “Tell me what your male friends think about your dancing.” All of a sudden there was silence. His confidence level went from one hundred to one. At first he started to ramble without really answering the question, so I asked it again. Within seconds, he was crying.

He started telling me that he didn’t want to go to school anymore because he was constantly being harassed and he was actually beaten up several times–all because he danced. He said his classmates–boys and girls alike–were always calling him a fag. He was dealing with this day in and day out, and it had obviously had a major emotional effect on him.

Instead of continuing with the interview, I gave him a pep talk and tried to explain that the kids who were making fun of him could be jealous, or didn’t comprehend how athletic dance really was. I encouraged him to keep dancing because I thought he had what it took to make it. We ended our time together with a laugh or two, but I could tell he was extremely troubled.

As I was driving home, I couldn’t get this kid out of my mind. I, too, had danced from age 3 on. I had no choice: My mother was my dance teacher and my father was in show business. And I had been through the same torment this kid was enduring. I can remember sneaking out the back door of my junior high school to avoid the bullies who would think nothing of giving me a punch or two and call me a fag every time they had the opportunity.

I remember one morning when I was walking to school: I arrived at the front door wearing a winter coat with a hood. One of the kids, who I knew was trouble, walked up to me and pulled my hood off my head to spit in my face as he called me a fag. Another time, I was walking home from school and the same kid picked up a huge two-by-four and whacked me in the stomach several times as he called me unprintable names.

When I got to high school the situation was worse; like the boy in the interview, I didn’t want to go to school either. But, through it all, there was never a question of whether I would continue dancing, because it was in my blood and I loved it. My issue was how I was going to keep myself from getting beaten up or from being brought down by the name-calling. Somehow, I managed.

When I was about 16, our family did an interview with the local newspaper. It was a story about the Gold family and how we all were into show business. Instead of being excited about my picture being in the paper, I was in fear that this article would be another opportunity to remind all the bullies that I danced. And it did. The article appeared, and so did an entirely new round of harassment.

I never talked to my parents about the situation; actually, I never discussed it with anyone for more than twenty years. I think I was embarrassed, and I didn’t want anyone to know about it. Why I was embarrassed I don’t know; it was just one of those things you push to the back of your mind. It was the interview with this boy that brought it all back to me–not just the memories, but the feelings as well.

You would think that the twenty-first century would bring a new perception of male dancers. They are everywhere, from Gap commercials to MTV, and they are portrayed in a very masculine way. So why are boys who dance still going through the persecution? I believe it’s the adults in the kid’s life who influence this kind of behavior or thinking. They are the ones I went to school with, and they still think that dancing is a “sissy” thing for guys to do. They pass their prejudices on to their children, creating an entirely new generation of kids who make fun of boys who dance.

Dance teachers and parents need to realize that their male dancers may be suffering through this torment; the kids may not bring it up because they are embarrassed, as I was. It might be a good thing to discuss at the studio or at home. It could be through rap sessions with all the dancers or one-on-one conversations with the boys. They need to know that they are not alone, that there are others who deal with the same issue. Just talking about it could make a world of difference. Another option might be for the parent and child to approach his teachers or school principal about the problem. In certain situations, counseling may be appropriate.

Often, dance teachers see young male dancers who show enormous potential and love dancing but who quit at the age of 12 or 13. My guess is that it’s because they cannot take the abuse. I wonder–how many great dancers have we lost in this way?

Hard as it may be, I encourage young male dancers to stick it out. I have no regrets; I think it was the harassment that motivated me to become what I am today. Now I realize it was a unique motivation for me. I went on to perform all over the country and even became Mr. Dance of America in 1982. Today I direct one of the largest dance production companies in the world; I am a past president of Dance Masters of America; I serve as a motivational speaker for dance educators; and I write for Dance Magazine. Not bad for a kid who could have given it all up just to stop the torment.

By the way, the last time I saw the kid who spit in my face and hit me with the two-by-four, he was working at the local gas station.

Dear Rhee,

I am strictly a ballet teacher employed at a professional school in the Midwest. I teach both the company dancers as well as many classes in the children’s program. Although I love working with the company, there is something uniquely rewarding about working with children. Many students at the school will never be ballet dancers but might become strong dancers in another style of dance. I think some of them should be taking jazz or modern classes along with their ballet, and I have told several of them to look for a school that offers those styles. I also tell them to continue taking their ballet classes for a strong foundation.

Last week I was called into the school director’s office, where he scolded me for suggesting that my students should be taking anything other than ballet. He explained that jazz and modern are not recommended by the school and that we can’t afford to send our students to other places. When I told him that we have many students who would never become ballet dancers but who could have a future in another form of dance, he responded that it isn’t our place to tell them that. When I suggested that we add jazz and modern to our curriculum, he wouldn’t hear of it, telling me that we are a “pure” ballet school.

My daughter started taking ballet at this school, but she also took jazz and tap at a local school. Today she is a professional Broadway dancer who would never have found her place in the dance world if we had not been open to all forms of dance.

I called in sick this week because I don’t know if I can continue to teach the children. If I am a real teacher, I should be able to point my students in the direction that best suits their needs. If I don’t, my conscience tells me I am cheating them. Please help me decide what to do. —Michelle

Hello Michelle,

First, thank you so much for writing. I have enormous respect for ballet teachers who appreciate and understand that all dance is created equal.

If it makes you feel better, there are many schools that have strong jazz, modern, or tap programs with children who should be training as serious ballet dancers, but their teachers don’t want to send them to a professional ballet school, either. It seems that guiding a student to another school or certain style of dance that better suits their capabilities is often taboo in our field. That goes across the board with the private sector, professional schools, and even some higher-ed programs. Too bad for all those dancers (especially the children) who never had a chance to discover the form of dance that they are best suited for.

I feel uncomfortable advising you on whether or not you should remain at this school without knowing your financial status or what the potential is to find another teaching position in your area. However, I recommend not making a drastic move until you know where you are going next. Consider remaining at your current school while you send your resume to other schools in your area. You may find that many school owners would love to have a strong ballet teacher who has as much respect for all forms of dance as you do. Or you might want to consider continuing to work with the company dancers while teaching children at another school that appreciates your integrity.

It is teachers like you who inspire me to do what I do. Please let me know what happens. —Rhee

Hi Rhee,

I’m a new school owner about to enter my second season. Last year we competed in three dance competitions and a national competition last summer. The problem is that most of my entries didn’t score very well because I have a slew of beginners.

Each time we went to a competition, I lost at least one student to various schools from my area that competed in the same competitions we did. Next year, I want to do more competitions, but I don’t want to lose students to the schools who have been competing for years. Should I hire outside choreographers or maybe bring in someone to coach my kids?

Dear Marjorie,

Don’t take this the wrong way, but honesty is my best policy . . . what the heck are you doing competing in the first place? It’s one thing to go to observe a competition to see what’s going on or taking your students to see a competition to inspire them, but there is no way your students are ready to actually compete with the schools who’ve been competing for years. In my opinion it takes 5-10 years before students are prepared for the rigors of competition.

You need to rethink your goal of opening a school for the purpose of competing and forget about winning. Your goal should be to teach beginner students how to dance. As I always say, competition is only a part of what we do, not all we do.

Slow down, forget about competition for now, and figure out how to build your business. Remember advanced dancers don’t just walk in the door. You build them slowly from basic movement to a more advanced level each year. This process takes time.

If you don’t change your goal to something like attracting preschool students or teaching simply the basics, I’m afraid you’re going to continue to lose students. Opening a new school should be motivated by your passion to offer every child the opportunity to experience the wonderful world of dance, and not to win trophies. —Rhee

Creating policies and sticking to them is risky but right

By Rhee Gold

As I travel the country presenting my Project Motivate seminars, I’ve discovered a trend. It’s a growing disconnect between what’s said and what’s done. The frustration that arises among teachers and school owners stems from students and parents who feel that they don’t have to abide by the policies or rules set forth by their dance school, that they, or their situations, are exceptions to the rules.

Sandra Waite is a school owner and teacher with a large group of intensive dancers who are involved in local performances and competitions. Her students go through a professional audition process, and then they receive a handbook, which includes all the policies pertaining to participation in the program. In an effort to keep the lines of communication open and experience organized, Ms. Waite hosts a meeting with her intensive dancers and their parents to go over every aspect of the handbook. It covers all expenses and due dates for tuition, and explains the time commitment required. All intensive dancers agree not to miss more than three rehearsals or classes during the season and are required to be at every performance. Ms. Waite’s handouts explain that dedication and discipline are the keys to a successful experience. After going over all the information,  Ms. Waite encourages her students and their parents to ask questions to better understand the responsibilities of both the child and parent. At the end of the meeting Sandra explains that she would prefer the dancers did not register for the program unless they agree to all the policies and commitments. She asks parents and the students to sign a document that confirms that they agree to the requirements.

All went well for the first month of rehearsals and classes but then Ms. Waite received a call from a parent of one of her best dancers. She said, “My family will be leaving for vacation and so my daughter will be out for more than a week.” The parent admitted that, yes, her daughter would miss all classes and rehearsals, including a session with a choreographer      Ms. Waite was bringing from out of town.      Ms. Waite reminded the parent about the meeting, the policies, the handbook and their understanding that the parent and the child had made a serious commitment to the program and to the other dancers in her group. “There are exceptions to every rule and sometimes you just have to accept that,” responded the parent. She added, “I’ll pull my daughter from your school if you don’t make an exception for her.” Ms. Waite pointed out the child’s responsibility to the other children in the group, to which the parent replied, “I’m not concerned with the other students. My own family is my priority.”

Sandra saw that she had two options: to follow through with her policies, which stated that missing more than three rehearsals or classes would result in removal from the program, or to allow the child to miss classes and rehearsals and to justify to others why she had excused the student with no repercussions.

Ms. Waite chose option two. She decided that she didn’t want to lose the student. After all, the dancer was one of the most talented in the group and she didn’t want to lose the monthly income from the tuition.

During the child’s missed week, she was absent from a costume fitting, four classes, and two rehearsals. When other dancers and parents asked Sandra about the missing child, she explained that she had excused her for the week; a total contradiction to the policies of participation. The other members of the group and their parents became progressively more disgruntled and began to discuss their views in the school waiting room. Some of them had missed family functions and other personal activities that conflicted with dance and they had taken their commitment seriously. The negativity concerning the subject spread like wildfire. By the end of the week, two more dancers were missing from the choreography session, and others started to miss classes. But Sandra’s hands were tied; she couldn’t say or do anything. She had diminished her power to enforce the policies when she made the exception and even worse she allowed the parent to pressure her into violating her own agreement with the group.

The situation continued to worsen; spotty attendance and commitment became roadblocks that affected rehearsals, choreography, and the overall morale of her entire intensive program. As the season wore on, Ms. Waite found herself setting choreography with only half of her dancers in attendance. She would then have to go over the new choreography at the following rehearsal for those who had missed. By the time her students were scheduled for their first performance, the group was far behind where it should have been. Everyone was stressed out. Most rehearsals had been dedicated to catching up, rather than focused on cleaning the choreography.

Sandra put the blame for her dilemma on her students and their parents, saying, “They’re not the same as they once were.” She contemplated whether to discontinue the intensive program. After all, her dancers didn’t seem to want to dedicate the time needed to create a solid program. She wanted to work with dancers who wanted to be the best they could be. Sandra never realized that she had created her own problem when she began making exceptions to her policies.

When first confronted by a student’s parent demanding exceptions, Ms. Waite should have stood up for her policies and she might not have landed in such a powerless position. Instead of worrying about losing one of her best dancers and the monthly tuition, she should have enforced the rules, explaining that everyone had to make choices. This one was to go on vacation and give up a place in the intensive program or to honor the commitment both dancer and parent had made. Whether or not the child continued at the school wasn’t the issue. Setting an example would’ve meant that all her other dancers and their parents knew that policies were to be taken seriously. Attendance would not have diminished; there wouldn’t have been gossip or hard feelings, and the end result would’ve been much better. By the end of the stress-filled season, Ms. Waite lost five students from her intensive program, including the one who had gone on vacation.

I’m not pretending that choices are easy or without risk. But as educators and school   owners, we must have the confidence to stick by our policies, without regard to whether or not we might lose a student. The negativity generated by not respecting our own rules will almost always backfire on many fronts because word travels far beyond the school waiting room. Be strong enough to stick to your beliefs, policies, and respect your understanding of what it takes to have a successful school. Resist being intimidated by parents who are actually setting the wrong example for their own children. Trust your knowledge and stick to your policies. In the end you’ll be glad you did—that’s why you made them in the first place.

Pacific Northwest Ballet is offering a 10 percent discount on tickets to its program of three works by Ulysses Dove, to be offered March 18 to 28.

The discount will be applied automatically to orders placed through the Seattle-based company’s website, www.pnb.org. Patrons buying tickets by phone from the company’s box office at 206.441.2424 should mention promotion code YOU10.

Suspension of Disbelief, by contemporary dance-fusion choreographer Victor Quijada, will be performed with the three Dove works—Vespers, Red Angels, and Serious Pleasures. The program is suggested for mature audiences.

When I do my seminars, I always ask, “How many of you were the best dancer in your class?” In groups as large as 500, only one or two people raise their hands, and sometimes no one does.

This tells me something that I think is really important for dance educators to know. Most of the time, it is not our best students who move on to become the pro dancer or teacher. Often, the best take their natural talent for granted and never feel the passion that burns in every committed dancer.

Instead, it turns out to be the little dancer in the second row who struggles with her turnout and never hits a real passé who someday takes the Broadway stage by storm or becomes the awesome teacher whom you take pride in having trained.

Look for and appreciate the little dancer in the second row that may not be as strong as the others—but boy, does she have the passion. Grab her by the hand, bring her to the front of the classroom, and make her day. It could be the moment that gives her the confidence to become you!

Feel free to share this post with you dance teacher friends–Rhee

Could it be that our life is the greatest piece of choreography that we’ll ever create? The movement happens to be the lives we lead; the difference we make; the smiles we bring; the children we inspire and the legacy we leave. Our life is that choreographic masterpiece that we work a lifetime to create ~Rhee Gold

Some dance people on Facebook post that they are going to kick butt at a competition. I wonder if they are missing the point? Are they passing the “kick butt” mentality on to their students and parents who will be disappointed if they don’t end up kicking butt? Instead should we express how excited we are to see other …dancers do their thing? We need to understand that dance is a gift, not a tool to beat others? ~Rhee Gold

Dance Parent 101
By Rhee Gold
Secrets of successful marketing for the private sector school owner

Yes, you’re the best! Does that make you a success?

Do you know four- to twelve-year-old children and their parents are your market? If you do, how do you draw this group to your studio?

Although there are some well-educated dance parents out there, they are certainly the minority. When enrolling children in dance class; most parents are in the novice category in the search for quality dance training. A huge majority understand a once-a-week dance lesson and a recital at the end of the year. They don’t know a whole lot about strong technique or turn-out, nor do they grasp the concept that their child could someday become a ballerina, professional dancer or a high score winner.

Actually, numerous parents would prefer their child didn’t pursue a serious dance curriculum. Many have a perception that their child can’t create a successful future as a dancer or teacher.

So you ask, “Does that mean I have to lower my standards?” Not at all! Continue to strive to make the best dancers possible. Just don’t flaunt it.

Consider this: A mom is looking through the newspaper for a dance school for her six-year-old daughter. There are several options. A variety of ads proclaim, “We’ve won more awards than any other school in the state!” Another exclaims, “We have the most professional faculty in the community.” The more serious ballet school writes, “Our students are performing with the San Francisco Ballet!” Granted, all are very good credentials—definitely accolades that the school owner should be proud of. But: are those ads really focused on the market that will attract the clientele who will make their school a financial success?

One school with a history of producing professional dancers, choreographers and numerous awards for decades also places an ad in the same newspaper. It features several smiling eight-year-old children at the ballet barre. Each is in a leotard and tights with huge smiles on their faces. Their ad tagline proclaims, “Step #1 Happy Dancers, Step #2 Motivating young minds to be the best they can be.” They simply include their website address, a telephone number and their registration dates. No “most professional.” No “we’re the best.” Nothing about winning the most awards or the professional ballet companies their dancers are performing with!

The novice dance mom glances at all her options and makes the decision to take her child to the school with the happy young dancers at the ballet barre, as do many of the moms (or dads) who are looking to register their child in dance class. Why? you ask.

• The happy school portrays itself as a fun place for children to be. A priority for most parents!
• Parents feel a bit intimidated by the extremely professional image of the other ads.
• The more professional or competitive schools look complicated and more expensive (even if they’re not).
• The happy school appears to be a neighborhood sort of place that welcomes all children, not simply those interested in serious training.

I am all for every teacher and school owner being as qualified and professional as they can be. However, I think a lot of excellent schools are actually scaring off potential clientele because they want to proclaim that they are the best! Even if you are the best (by a long shot), be humble and be smart by realizing that we need to get them in the door. Then we educate both the children and the parents to better understand what quality dance education is all about.

In Good Company

By Rhee Gold

Although I discourage using the word “lose,” it’s the best way to make my point. Some of the smartest and brightest people got that way from losing many of their battles. We learn from the losing process or by not getting what we want. It’s how we improve ourselves. When we don’t win or achieve the desired result, we go back to work, ultimately becoming better at what we do.

If you feel bad about losing, remember these events in the life of Abraham Lincoln:

• He failed in business in 1831.
• He was defeated for state legislator in 1832.
• He tried another business in ‘33. It failed.
• His fiancée died in ‘35.
• He had a nervous breakdown in ‘36.
• In 1843 he ran for Congress and was defeated.
• He ran again in ‘48 and was defeated again.
• He tried running for the Senate in ‘55. He lost.
• The next year he ran for vice president and lost.
• In ‘59 he ran for the Senate again and was defeated.
• In 1860, the man who signed his name Lincoln was elected the 16th president of the United States.

When we go to a dance competition without walking out as the big winner, do we try to come up with excuses? Maybe we tell ourselves and our students that the reason we didn’t do so well was because the “competition was fixed” or that the “judges didn’t know what they were doing?” Maybe we say, “That school knew the judges, that’s why they did so well and we didn’t.” Another one of those excuses, “That school spent so much money in entry fees, the director of the competition told the judges to score them high!” In reality, if a competition director told a panel of judges who had to win, they wouldn’t be in business too long. The dance community is small and people talk; most judges wouldn’t put up with being told who should win and who shouldn’t.

On the other hand, if we are always the big winner, how would we get better at what we do? Teachers and students who are exposed to stronger talent or choreography are really being given the opportunity to see how far they can go. Going home from the competition without the trophy, but excited to make yourself and your students better is really getting the most from the experience and your entry fees.

We can’t allow ourselves to cultivate a generation of young people who believe winning is everything. I’ve encountered parents who have completely lost their cool because of the results of a competition, and I’ve had teachers who were my lifelong friends refuse to speak to me or yell at me after a competition because their students didn’t score as well as they had hoped. They’re not thinking about the values we emphasize in educating dancers—courage, or perseverance, or passion. They’re thinking only about winning.

What do we do about it? Lighten up.

Dance is a performing art form, not a sport. It isn’t one team or the other scoring so many runs or goals; it’s far more subjective than that. Its artistic and technical qualities are subject to the interpretation of judges—who, remember, are using their own judgment—and who   happen to be human beings with their own whims, preferences, and emotions.

A dress code lends a professional look to classes and sends the message to students and observers that the school’s staff takes the training they provide seriously. A dress code creates an added sense of discipline in the classroom and equality among the students. The focus stays on taking a good class rather than comparing dance wardrobes. Plus, baggy sweatshirts or sweatpants make it difficult to observe the dancers’ bodies well enough to offer the technical corrections needed to build strong dancers. Straight knees and proper body alignment are hard to see underneath layers of baggy clothing.

Another advantage to having a dress code is the additional profit for the school if it sells basics such as leotards and tights. If your school has one, say so in the brochure, on registration forms, and on the web site. But whether or not the school has a dress code, proper shoes should be required for all classes.

If your school has never had a dress code but you are considering implementing one, the place to start might be with the ballet classes. Often I hear teachers complain that their students don’t take ballet training seriously. If the teacher and students look like ballet dancers, they will probably take their classes more seriously.

There are legitimate reasons not to have a dress code. Teenage girls who are self-conscious about their bodies may feel inhibited in a leotard and tights; if they feel too uncomfortable, they may choose not to dance. And many boys struggle with our society’s negative stereotyping about males wearing tights. It’s OK to start the boys out in a pair of sweats and a solid-color T-shirt. However, once they move on to a more advanced level of training, they should be willing to wear a pair of black tights for ballet classes. Boys who take their dance training seriously need to understand the discipline of a dress code as well as its importance to their technical training. Those ages 10 and over should be encouraged to wear a dance belt.

Hip-hop and adult classes should be exempt from a dress code. Hip-hop dancers often come to the school expressing no interest in other dance forms, so a dress code might intimidate them. However, they frequently segue into other classes once they’ve been exposed to them, and they can be introduced to the idea of a dress code in those classes. Adults may feel the need to cover up more and variations in dress don’t distract them, so permissiveness in attire is generally the rule.

By Diane Gudat

Editor’s note: This is an old favorite of mine, by Diane Gudat. Dedicated to the teachers who are starting to stress out about the recital, enjoy–Rhee 

And other reasons not to panic about your recital.

In my years as a teacher and studio owner, I have produced more than 27 year-end recitals and at least 16 full-length story ballets. If I have learned anything about the production part of the dance business, it is that it requires two important attributes: the ability to compromise and the ability to enjoy the humor in the things that can—and always will—go wrong.

My concept of a recital, I have found, differs from that of some of my peers. This is probably due to the limited resources and staff at my disposal. There is a lack of reasonably priced theaters in my area, minimal equipment in the high school theater I rent, and funds to rectify these situations are nonexistent. But I have learned to make the most out of what we do have. With dads operating the spotlights and a high school gym teacher commanding the light board, we have produced some amazing results.

Anyone who produces recitals must experience their share of mishaps, and I’ve got a few favorites. For our production of Cinderella, the curtain was a “riser” rather than a draw-type. At the top of the show, the curtain-puller yanked the wrong cord; instead of raising the curtain, he brought it down into a pile at the dancers’ feet, giving the audience a waist-up view of the dancers. Frantically, he pulled it back up, where it promptly caught on the front border, this time revealing the dancers from the knees down. After the curtain made several more trips up and down, displaying various portions of the dancers each time, I finally ran out and pulled it toward me to free it of obstacles. As the curtain finally rose, I was left standing center stage, whereupon I smiled, bowed, and ran offstage.

Less than 45 minutes later, disaster struck when a car hit a utility pole outside the theater, knocking out the power. Naturally, the emergency generator failed to come to the rescue, leaving my dancers in the pitch black. With the outdoor temperature close to 20 degrees below zero, I knew the theater would soon become uncomfortably cold. I could hear the muffled screams of the older dancers in dressing rooms two floors below and hundreds of small children in the dressing rooms across the hall. The sheriff’s department arrived to evacuate the theater, bringing the students out to the headlight illuminated lobby to join their relieved parents. A few weeks later, we tried again. This time, Cinderella’s tutu was missing. I found it outside, hanging in a tree, blown there by the winter wind.

I thought my jinxed Cinderella was a recital disaster award winner until another teacher told me that during her recital a tornado blew the top off the auditorium and, in a matter of seconds, dumped several feet of water on the audience and performers. Though stunned, no one was injured. She wins.

Another personal favorite of mine is the stalled sled in our Nutcracker. It was rigged to be pulled by a cord from the opposite side of the stage so that it would appear to float magically behind the Snow Queen. When it failed to roll on its own, I had to climb beneath it and drag it, like a Marine, across the stage.

Then there was the dress rehearsal when someone leaned up against a backstage light switch, flipping off the power to the control booth. All of the lights onstage, including the work lights, went out. It took three hours and two electricians to figure out what had happened and flip the switch back on.

Another year, when the recital costumes did not arrive as promised, I spent all night at Wal-Mart trying to outfit five classes of students. I showed up exhausted the next day, pseudo-costumes in hand, only to discover that the light crew for the performance was not the one that had come to the dress rehearsal, making the previous day’s setting of cues a total waste of time—not to mention the technical end of the show a bit shaky.

We’ve all had the student who becomes ill onstage or should have visited the bathroom; the preschool crier; the missed entrances; the bossy 3-year-old who tells the other kids onstage what to do; the costumes that stuck together; the wrong or worn-backwards costume; the evacuations due to a misled fire alarm. Then there are the broken straps, lost headpieces or props, the hat hanging from a single bobby pin, the falling hair, the shoe flying through the air, the frozen preschooler, and the one who won’t quit waving. I have also watched, with horror, as a little boy feasted on fallen sequins during his performance and a little girl removed the top of her costume because the straps were too tight.

What have I learned from these moments of panic and frustration? That the recital belongs to the children. They are the stars, and what’s important is how they will remember their experience. Will they remember how much their costume cost or if they did their dance perfectly? No—but they will remember that Mom took pictures, that Grandma came, and that they felt very special.

Producing a recital is like throwing a wedding with several hundred little brides (and their mothers!). You can’t please everyone. Something will always go wrong, and performances are never perfect. I know that presenting a professional, flawless recital would make me look good, but my clients are probably more impressed by the fact that I handle difficult situations with a smile and keep my cool. And their word of mouth is the best advertisement I could hope for.

So this year, when the auditorium director called me the morning of dress rehearsal to tell me that all the seats would be removed that day to begin renovations, I took a deep breath and kept both my cool and my sense of humor. It all turned out fine, and I believe it always will.

 By Camille Sanfillipo

A mother’s love and a teacher’s kindness gave a young girl’s life meaning

I have been a dance teacher for more than 40 years and have run a dance studio for 35 years. But when I was a little girl, growing up first in the Harlem projects, then in the Bronx, I could never have imagined such a life for myself.

In the 1950s my parents decided to divorce. Being in a single-parent family in the ’50s was difficult, but my mom found a job in a bakery near home, and I would go there after school every day. After about a year she enrolled me in a dance school—she loved to dance and wanted me to experience the same joy. I was not quite as enthusiastic as she was, but I went along with it, starting out in tap and adding ballet and jazz two years later. 

My father was not interested in my dance lessons, so he was not very helpful about paying for them. At that time dance classes cost $1.25 per hour. Each week I would go to class with a one-dollar bill and a quarter wrapped inside it. The students would stand in a line and the teacher would move down it with the roll book, taking each child’s money and writing it in the book. Sometimes my mother couldn’t afford the $1.25, but she didn’t want me to miss the lesson. Since she was allowed to take a loaf of bread and a container of milk home from work each day, she would send me to class with a loaf of fresh rye bread and the milk in a paper bag. She told me to tell my teacher, “Mom will pay you next week.” The first time I had to do that I cried, but I went to class. My teacher would always say, “That’s fine,” and thanked my mom and me. Because she always made a fuss, as though the bag of goodies was a present, the other kids got a little jealous. I don’t know how many of them realized I didn’t pay for the lessons. This situation went on for quite a while; sometimes, when I had the money to pay, my teacher would look disappointed (the bread was delicious!), but I was thrilled to hand over the money.

 She told me to tell my teacher, “Mom will pay you next week.” The first time I had to do that, I cried.

Occasionally I asked my mom, “If we can’t afford to send me to dance class, why do I have to go?” Her reply was always the same. “You have to do something—you need the exercise.” I guess she was right; I was kind of lazy! Each year my mother enrolled me in more and more classes until I was taking everything the studio had to offer. Although we paid most of the time, occasionally my mother would be short on cash. The brown paper bag was a little bigger then, packed with extra goodies.

By the time I was in my teens, I loved every minute I spent in the studio. When my teacher asked if I would be interested in helping with the classes, our financial obligation changed quite a bit. I worked in exchange for my classes; my mother had to pay only for the private lessons, which cost about $7.50 an hour. My father finally realized that all those lessons were not a waste, so he began paying for my lessons and costumes. When I was 16 he presented me with flowers after our annual recital. He had tears in his eyes, and I knew he was proud of me.

Sometimes sacrifices do pay off. If it weren’t for what my mother did to keep me in dancing school, and the kindness and understanding of my dance teacher, Vicky Sheer, I would never have had the wonderful life I now have. I recently celebrated my 35th year in the studio, and 23 years ago I opened a dancewear store. Both businesses have been very successful. I have experienced many wonderful things through dance and made many wonderful lifelong friends. Many of my students have gone on to professional careers on Broadway and around the world. Without my mom and Ms. Sheer, I would not be where I am today.

We have been publishing DSL (formerly known as Goldrush) for more than 5-years. This particular story has always been one of my favorites. Enjoy–Rhee

By Evelyn Cisneros
 
Sometimes it’s not dancing that makes a difference

You never know when something you do will touch the life of another person in a significant way. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in all my years of dancing, it’s that the things you’d least expect to make a difference are the ones that seem to matter the most. I’ll never forget how a split-second decision I made provided comfort to a young girl.

I was exhausted and wanted nothing more than a hot bath and bed, but something kept me from brushing this girl off.

I was in Detroit for a seasonal guest performance of Nutcracker during a hiatus from San Francisco Ballet, where I danced for 23 years. I was frequently mobbed backstage by little girls requesting a pair of my used pointe shoes—autographed, of course. Knowing this, I tried to be prepared with as many pairs as I could pack into my theater case. But that final night in Detroit, sitting in my dressing room packing up to leave, I came up one pair short. A young girl shyly approached me, asking for a pair for her sister who had put “a pair of pointe shoes worn by the Sugar Plum Fairy” on her Christmas list. I told her I had none left, and her face fell, and she stood there looking so disappointed that I felt my heart twinge. I was exhausted and wanted nothing more than a hot bath and bed, but something kept me from brushing this girl off. All I had left were my warm-up shoes—de-shanked and shabby—but on impulse I dug into my ballet bag, pulled them out, and offered them to her. The huge smile that instantly transformed her face brought a smile to mine as well, and I asked for her sister’s name so I could sign the shoes. I don’t remember the name, but I scribbled a note to her and signed it “With love from the Sugar Plum Fairy, Evelyn Cisneros.” The girl hugged and thanked me, and I watched as she nearly danced out of the theater.

I never thought about that girl again, but two years later I was back in Detroit. Once again, after the well-wishers and autograph seekers had left the theater, the same young girl came up to me. She asked if she could speak to me. “Of course,” I told her.

“Do you remember me from when you were here two years ago?” she asked. “You gave me a pair of autographed pointe shoes for my sister, and you gave me the only pair you had left.”

The girl instantly came to mind, and I said that yes, I remembered her.

She continued, “I thought you might like to know how grateful I was that you gave my sister those shoes. She had talked about wanting to ask you for a pair days before the performance. You made her so happy.” The girl paused, and tears came into her eyes. “That night, after I gave her your shoes, she was killed in a car accident. It means so much to me that you made her happy that night. I think about that all the time—how the last night of her life was so special—and I wanted to thank you.”

I had just lost my own cousin, who was my older brother in life, and I held that beautiful little girl in my arms as we shared our tears. She looked me in the eyes and said, “It’s OK—I cried a lot the first year too.”

I don’t remember how—or if—I answered her. But I’ve never forgotten how it wasn’t my dancing that night so many years ago that made a difference in someone’s life—it was that reach into my dance bag for an old, worn-out pair of pointe shoes. That moment was my confirmation that taking time for a child can be life changing, and is really all we have to give.

I have a dance school in Australia; we teach ballet, jazz, and hip-hop to about 50 students.

We are having a concert (I think you call it a recital), and after hearing you speak in Melbourne we were excited about ways in which we could try to make our concert exciting and a bit different. However,  parent problems are putting a strain on the whole thing.

All we expect our students to do, whether 4-year-olds or adults, is to turn up for classes and rehearsals and, if they are performing, to do their best. We have only a couple of parents who say that we expect too much when we ask their 4- to 5-year-olds  to know their dance. When mothers listening from outside a classroom heard us tell their children to use their brains and put on thinking caps, they concluded that we were calling their children stupid. Another mother complained that we were yelling at her child. We explained that because our new studio is a church hall, it does echo, and that we’re trying to get the students’ adrenaline going and pump them up with the music. You really can’t do that by whispering!

We’re a bit concerned that these parents might bad-mouth our school because of these concerns. We’re also feeling rather deflated. No matter how hard we try to explain that we are here because we want to give their children the best service we can,  some parents don’t understand that to us the end-of-the-year concert is serious. For us it’s not just any old concert; it’s our way of showing  the parents and anyone else in the audience what the students have learned through the year.

We are both very passionate people about our dancing; are we too driven? Are our expectations too high?

This probably seems rather trivial, but we would like your advice. We are at our wit’s end to try to please everybody and have a successful concert.

DSL friends, please offer your advice to our friend in Australia in the comment section of this post–Rhee

Coming soon to DanceLifeTV.com. Edge Performing Arts Center

Dear Rhee,

First I’d like to say how much I enjoy your question and answer column. Reading other studio owners questions, and your answers, have helped me tremendously. I have numerous competition teams at my studio. Myself and two other teachers choreograph the dances that we perform. We compete at four regional competitions during our dance season. We have not ever attended a National event. This year, my competition dancers are making it very clear that they want to attend a National this summer. All members of my studio’s competition teams pay a set amount of tuition per month during our regular nine month dance season. Is it unreasonable for me to charge rehearsal fees to prepare for Nationals throughout the summer? I don’t mind giving up my free time to help students with student choreography or attending school events to support my dancers that are on high school drill teams, but do they expect me to donate my time for free to prepare them for Nationals? I can’t expect my other teachers to donate their time for free, and being the studio owner, and the most experienced teacher of them all, why should I do it for free? I was thinking about sending home a detailed newsletter to the parents explaining that there will be extra financial expenses they will have to pay if we do attend Nationals. Do you think that is a good idea? What would you suggest? Thank you, Lauren

Hello Lauren,

Thanks for your kind words. I do think that it’s OK to charge a fee for the students who will have to be in rehearsals and or classes to prepare for the national competition. The key is going to be how you present it to your clientele. Do not tell them, “I can’t expect my other teachers to donate their time for free, and being the studio owner, and the most experienced teacher of them all, why should I do it for free?” Actually leave that out of the discussion altogether.

I suggest that you bring the parents and the students in for a meeting so that you can let them know what it takes to prepare for a national competition. Explain how much of a time commitment it will take and present a list of reasons why the experience will be good for the kids. Let them know that if they want to look good and be well prepared that it is going to take commitment from both the students and the teachers (as well as the parents) to attend all rehearsals and classes in preparation for the national event.

Then go into explaining what the expenses will be; not only the rehearsal fees (compensation for you and the other teachers), but the traveling, hotel, entry fees, etc. I know that you need to cover your expenses to make this happen, but it is important that you are not giving the impression to your clientele that you are doing a national competition to generate more income for yourself.

If this is your students first national experience, it is also important to let them know that you are participating as a learning experience and not a winning experience. The exposure will inspire your students and you to become better, which should be the only thing that the students (and their parents) expect. If they win something then that is just frosting on the cake! Good luck and have a great time at nationals–Rhee 

DSL readers, please feel free to share your thoughts on the topic below in the comment box.

Change My World

Coming March 26 & 27, 2010, 8:00 pm

Bridgewater/Raynham High School

Proceeds to benefit The Sherry Gold and Hugs for Healing Foundations

More info: www.renniegold.com

 NEW! Studio Edition at The Gold School, Brockton, MA | July 23-25

 An intimate business and motivational seminar for dance school owners/teachers
Limited to 50 attendees (minimum age 18)

For the first time, Rennie and Rhee Gold join forces to bring the dance education field a unique inspirational experience. Rhee’s business and motivational seminars along with Rennie’s classroom and choreography concepts will bring attendees a continuing education experience like no other. Their passion for the art of dance and education is evident in all that they do.

Having grown up in a studio under the direction of their mom, Sherry Gold, and served as leaders in the dance community, Rennie and Rhee offer attendees unique perspectives about the business, the classroom, and the life!

Whether you want to generate more income, learn new strategies for 21^st-century marketing, become better organized, learn new teaching and choreography concepts, or simply get the inspiration you need, this seminar will change the way you look at your business and the life of a dance teacher . . . guaranteed!

Who should attend?

Curriculum for this Project Motivate seminar will be very much focused on the school owner who is also working within the classroom. It is not a seminar for assistant teachers or teachers who want to take many classes. The curriculum for the classroom is presented as demonstrations. Note: Please no late arrival or early departure. 

Project Motivate Curriculum

The Business

OBJECTIVES: Improve your enrollment and help you to generate more income and become a smarter business person.

Innovative 21^st-century marketing concepts include social networking, websites, e-zines, and a ton of sample print materials that will improve your studio’s image and your income.

You’ll discover new ways to improve student retention and organize your business, as well as the tools to analyze where YOU are really making a profit (and where you may not be).

Sample employee policies and contracts will be presented and discussed, along with tips to determine who on your staff is an employee and who is a subcontractor.

If it has to do with the business of owning a school, it will be touched on at this seminar.

Classroom & Choreography Live!

NEW! This concept will offer attendees the opportunity to view Rennie Gold in action with his students.

Two classroom demonstrations with different age groups (approximately 9-12 and 13-plus). His focus will be on building a dancer from the bottom up, both technically and emotionally. He’ll offer techniques for motivating students to be the best that they can be, while emphasizing that they can’t be satisfied with what they accomplished yesterday. Rennie will also share various warm-ups, progressions, combinations, and more.

Rennie will create a piece of choreography for a group of young dancers, demonstrating how to involve students in the creative process and how to generate a teamwork attitude. He’ll share secrets related to utilizing formations and patterns and eliminating the tricks!

All presentations will include a Q&A session.

Rhee Gold’s Motivational Seminars

Rhee Gold’s frank, revealing, and often humorous presentations have been inspiring dance educators worldwide for more than a decade. His presentations are designed to inspire you to become the best teacher, business person, and mentor you can be. Gold’s experience as the son of a school owner, student, teacher, choreographer, master teacher, industry leader, author, publisher, and the dance field’s first motivational speaker will leave you with a renewed sense of passion and confidence.

Area Hotels

Courtyard by Marriott, Stoughton, MA: 781.297.7000
Residence Inn by Marriott, Brockton, MA: 508.583.3600
Radisson-Brockton, Brockton, MA: 508.588.6300

Airports

Boston’s Logan International
T.F. Green Airport, Providence

Seminar Fee: $349.00

Includes: All three days, the Project Motivate manual, marketing samples, continental breakfast, lunch, and so much more! Note: The seminar is limited to the first 50 applicants on a first-come, first-served basis. We expect that it will sell out.

Registration

888.i.dance.9 (local: 508.285.6650), 9 to 5 EST weekdays.
Register today, space is limited!

Dear Rhee,

I’ve figured out that the business side of my dance school is more than I can take. When I read your magazine, I learn about teachers who are in the same place I am, but their issues seem to be different. It’s not listening to crabby parents that bothers me; I do well with them. And it doesn’t have to do with not making a living, because I have done very well. The hard part for me is having to deal with my employees.

I started my school because I love to dance and I wanted children to be in love with the art form too. Back then I was the only teacher, along with a student’s mom who acted as a secretary; together we ran the school for seven years. She is gone; it’s 20 years later and I have 400 students, 7 teachers, 2 secretaries, and some part-time employees who are supposed to help keep this school on track.

My employees bicker about who’s going to do what work and some have told me point blank, “That’s not part of my job description—have someone else do it!” Another big concern of mine is running a professional operation, which includes arriving at work on time. Day after day I find myself explaining to parents and kids that my secretary is going to be late or that class will start late because Miss So-and-So is stuck in traffic. This happens all the time, yet my concern for arriving on time is the first thing I discuss with all potential employees and the first topic addressed in our employee handbook. I reiterate my feelings in every meeting, but for some reason I can’t fix this one.

I am no longer upset because I know I have made my best effort to change things and I accept that it isn’t going to happen (short of firing everyone, and I’m not going there). After much contemplation, I’ve narrowed down my options to two. First (the one I like the most, but I’m not sure if I’m crazy) is to go back to where I started with myself and maybe one other teacher and a secretary. I want just one classroom (now I have three) and about 100 students. My other option is to close my school and seek employment at another school, where I will be an employee who arrives on time for my classes!

Have you ever heard of anyone who wanted to make their school smaller? If so, how did they go about doing it? Are there repercussions, other than maybe not making the same income? Any advice will help. Thanks in advance. 

One of the things I admire about your letter is the fact that you seem confident about what you want and what your options are, instead of harboring resentment toward the employees who have forced you to think about these options. You deserve a pat on the back for that!

With that said, your downsizing concept is probably a good one for you. You would have a lot of options. You already have the clientele to draw your reduced enrollment from. Not only that, but you would be free to decide which students or age levels or subjects you want to teach. For many school owners that’s a pipedream.

With a smaller operation you would eliminate the expense (and stress) of all those employees, which when balanced with one-fourth of the enrollment needs to be considered. But I’m sure the rent for one studio would be much less than for three. If you can pull this off and be financially comfortable, I say more power to you! You might just start a trend.

As for teaching for someone else, I have met many former school owners who now teach for others. They too found it difficult to deal with the business side but had the passion to continue to teach. And I have never met one who had regrets. Whatever your decision is, I have a feeling you will be a success. If you do downsize, please let us know—I know that our readers would be interested in your story. All the best to you. —Rhee

Feel free to comment . . .

By Rhee Gold

As a teenager, I remember overhearing a group of dance teachers at a dance convention get all fired up about the recent rumor they had heard about another dance teacher (who was not there, of course). Some shook their heads in disgust; others had that look of “I shouldn’t be listening to this, but I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else right now.” I watched them head off to spread the word until everyone in the room seemed to know that Mary Jane’s husband had taken off with her studio funds and that she might not be able to afford to reopen her school. Or at least that’s the way I heard it.

As my mother and I were driving home, another dance teacher we carpooled with said to my mother, “Did you hear that Mary Jane is on drugs and is about to lose her school because of it?” I said nothing then, but later I told my mother what I had heard. Her response: “Forget about it—you should hear what they say about me!” She added, “I was too busy taking class to listen to the rumor mill.” Those words have always stuck in my mind because I was surprised that she didn’t care to know about other people’s problems, nor what others said about her. That was the message she wanted me to get—but I had, in fact, seen my mother cry about some of the rumors dance people had spread about her.

Not too long ago I received a phone call from an old friend I hadn’t heard from in years. I was excited to hear from him and anxious to find out what was going on in his life. But I never had the chance to ask. For two hours he ripped apart a mutual dance friend, whom I had known only as his best friend. The rumors, judgments, and accusations crushed me, but I let him rant. I didn’t know how to react. I did ask him if he was dancing and he told me that he was working at Starbucks because he hadn’t had a dance job in more than a year.

After the call I felt terrible, not only because I had heard such horrific tales about someone I cared about, but because my old friend was obsessed with his feelings. Here he was spending two hours on the phone on this rampage, when he could have spent that time looking into auditions or teaching opportunities or taking a class.

My thoughts went back to the Mary Jane rumor from many years ago. There was another lesson, one that had taken 30 years to hit me: My mother was too busy taking class to give an iota about gossip. That’s what made her such a success. She had no time for anything but becoming better at what she did and taking a smidge of time to live the “normal” life.

If I had my way I would like to declare the dance world a no-gossip zone. Imagine the collective success our dance community would experience if we all stayed focused on being the best we can be. By the way, Mary Jane has been happily married to her husband for 43 years and he never did take off with the studio funds. The real story was that a parent at the studio stole $50 from the cash box!

Feel free to comment below.

Hi Rhee,
I have an interesting question for you. I am a former studio owner, now teaching again for others. Just yesterday the studio owner of one of the studios I teach at called and informed me that, due to financial reasons, she can no longer keep me on. I’m not an employee (she 1099’s me) but also I do not have a formal contract. Believe it or not, that’s not my question! I am the person who has taught all the comp pieces – I taught the classes and did the choreography. She intends on still bringing these dances to competition, has said she will give me full credit. But, I feel the choreography is mine and I don’t wish it used anymore. I am not there to see to it that the choreography is done correctly, etc., and don’t feel she should profit from this. Besides the obvious lesson learned for the future (!), do you know who is right in this? Can she use this choreography because she paid me to teach the classes? Or does the choreography belong to me?
~ Anonymous

Hello Anonymous,
Sorry you have to deal with this circumstance, but this is a good topic for discussion. My opinion is that a teacher is hired by the hour. If in that hour it is verbally or contractually agreed that part of the job description includes choreography for a performance, recital or competition, then the school owns the right to utilize the choreography . . . unless otherwise specified in an initial agreement or contract.

With that said, the choreographer (teacher) should always receive credit for her work . . . if she wants it .

Contracts which include a job description, choreography rights, etc. should be on the top of your priority list when you agree to teach somewhere else. Let this one go as a learning experience . . . a new door will open quickly and it will be a better one. Good luck—Rhee

Let’s see what our readers think? Feel free to comment.

By Rhee Gold 

Community ties lead to a wealth of low-cost marketing options
Marketing—it’s a dreaded part of running a business for many dance school owners. It takes time and money and can drain even the most enthusiastic entrepreneur of creativity. But it doesn’t have to be that way. How can you build enthusiasm for your classes and your product without feeling that pressure? One great way to get the word out is by having new faces continually flowing through your school. Sometimes the joy the students show in their dancing is a better marketing tool than a brochure or website—the trick is to get people into your school to experience their enthusiasm, and that means tapping into the community. So if you’re looking for ways to bring in new faces but don’t have a huge marketing budget, these innovative, alternative marketing methods are for you.

Referral coupons
Give each current student five coupons for a free class to distribute to five of their friends or relatives. During the first month of classes, coupon holders can try a class of their choice. Some will decide to register and some will not, but even the ones who don’t are excellent prospects; get everyone’s mailing and email addresses and add them to your lists. Send them newsletters, brochures, performance notices, and registration forms. Also, if you know you will have a lot of empty seats at your recital, send these prospects a couple of comp tickets. They’ll fill the auditorium, and if they’re on the fence about taking dance lessons, an impressive recital or performance can entice them to enroll.

Free classes
Pick a class or group of students and offer them a bonus class. Make it a Friday night open hip-hop class for the students and one guest each. Why hip-hop? It’s beginner friendly, cool for everyone to do (even the boys), and it seems to help kids lose their inhibitions. That doesn’t rule out a jazz class or other forms of dance, however (though a ballet class might be too intimidating). The students will appreciate the free class, and they’ll introduce potential new students to the school. Be sure the teacher understands that the class should be fun and appropriate for beginner students.

Next, take the idea one step further and offer the same class for the parents. Ask them to bring a friend who has children who might be interested in dance. When the class is over, thank everyone for coming and hand out the school brochure, along with a coupon for a free class for their child.

An audience of future students
The next time you hold an in-studio run-through for a competition or a performance, let the dancers invite their friends to act as an audience and experience the excitement of preparing for a show. Again, hand out brochures and build your client lists.

Business to business
Identify the businesses in your community that offer a product or service for children: karate, piano lessons, gymnastics, preschools, daycare centers, and so on. Offer to do cross-marketing with them. You will stock their literature at your school and share your mailing list with them, and they agree to do the same for you. Offering links to each other’s website is an excellent way to cross-market, and it won’t cost you a penny. Also approach students’ parents who own businesses with the same cross-marketing idea. Good things can happen for both of you!

Another business-to-business concept is a performance exchange. For example, your students could do a dance demonstration at the karate school and the karate students could show off their skills at your school.

Introductory programs
Consider offering six-week programs that can start at any time of year. Courses might include creative movement or preschool, mommy and me, hip-hop, ballroom, or any kind of class you think would work in your market. Charge a flat fee without any strings attached—no costumes, no recitals, no extra expenses. Simply give them your best product: dance lessons. These short sessions often bring in those who are afraid to make a longer commitment or who aren’t sure whether their child is ready for dance classes. They might be just what the adult who always wished she had danced as a child needs in order to fulfill her dream—without jumping in full swing. Six-week programs also work well during periods when taking in new students isn’t practical—perhaps because you’re in the middle of recital choreography or the potential student doesn’t fit into the normal cycle. January is an excellent time to offer these programs.

These marketing ideas take some thought and energy, but what they don’t take is a lot of cash. Try a few of them—or come up with your own— and you may find that building ties with the community is a great way to boost enrollment.

They’re not second-class citizens – they’re your school’s future! 

By Rhee Gold 

Why are you such an advocate for the recreational dancer?
First off, I believe that dance is an art form and that every person, whether child or adult, can experience that unique feeling that dancing gives us, whether they can do 10 pirouettes or only 1. To me it’s that inner-gut thing we should be passing on, regardless of the skill level of the student. If we as teachers lose sight of the value of the recreational dancer and focus only on our best or most promising students, then I wonder if we’ve also lost sight of why we became dance educators in the first place.

Tell me more about that inner-gut thing.
It’s that feeling that takes over when we feel the music in our dancing or the sweat is pouring off us in class. It could happen when we see a piece of our own choreography or someone else’s. It’s like a light switch that turns on the passion. And yes, I believe everyone has it, even the 11- year-old with the size 13 feet! Unfortunately, some teachers think that switch flips on only with the advanced dancers.

What do you say to teachers or school owners who tell you, “I’ve paid my dues; I don’t want to teach the recreational kids anymore?”
Believe it or not, I respond with “Not a problem!” Then I ask them, “Who will you get into your school to give those recreational dancers what they need?” Be sure you have the best people in place; then feel free to teach whom you like. But if you have the less-talented or least ambitious teachers working with your recreational dancers, that’s what you’ll get back from those students.

What are the benefits of a recreational program, to the teacher and the students?
The recreational programs are often a school’s financial backbone. A solid base of once- or twice-a-week students who are not training at a discounted tuition (like many advanced dancers do) can make or break a school.

Advanced dancers must start somewhere, and a recreational class is the place. Some will improve or develop a passion and want to take on more classes; eventually they become your advanced dancers. If you have a weak recreational program and rely on getting your stronger students from other schools, you’ll often inherit the other schools’ headaches, too. Better to build your own dancers who’ve grown up in your school and understand your philosophy.

Watching those recreational dancers grow and become more accomplished is sometimes more rewarding than working with advanced dancers, because they truly feel a sense of joy when they accomplish something. Often the advanced dancers take what they have for granted.

How do you make sure you give your recreational students the same amount of attention as your advanced or competition students?
For me it’s a quality thing. Give them good teachers who can choreograph for them, people who know how to instill a solid foundation and how to make the kids look and feel good about themselves by the end-of-the-year performance.

I don’t like to let teenagers teach the recreational kids—often younger teachers want to create great dancers and they skip the basics, going right to the big stuff without realizing that their students can’t do the material. Then the teacher and the students become frustrated, which is not good for them or the business.

How can a teacher regain her love of teaching recreational dancers?
Sit in on your recreational and preschool classes and notice the joy on the kids’ faces when they learn a basic shuffle or a simple pas de bourrée. Know that the recreational student feels great just learning the basics, which is the same thing your advanced dancers feel when they accomplish the big stuff. One doesn’t have a better feeling than the other, so why should we not be as excited for the recreational dancer as we are for the advanced one? Each of us was a recreational or preschool student once. It’s a good thing our teachers saw our potential—otherwise we wouldn’t be where we are today. Go look for students like yourself in those recreational classes!

Our family school started by my mom, Sherry Gold in the basement of our family home in 1964. Today it is located in a 10,000 square foot facility, directed by my twin brother Rennie. It is a place where the passion for the art is #1. Enjoy–Rhee

How to solve the case of the disappearing students

By Rhee Gold

Through my research with dance school owners, I’ve discovered that it is not uncommon for their businesses to have up to a 30 percent turnover of students from year to year. Looking deeper, I discovered that a large number of that 30 percent are recreational and preschool-age students—which means that not only are school owners losing students; they’re losing the very children who are the financial lifeblood of the school. When those numbers dwindle, the future looks a bit gloomy.

There are many factors that lead students to discontinue dance classes. In about 10 percent of the cases, they drop out of class because they are “just not into dance,” or because another activity seems more inviting. Most people would tell you that there isn’t much you can do to keep this group coming to dance class. However, I don’t give up that easily! I think it’s possible to win over some of these kids with a classroom that is exciting and with teachers who have the passion to work with recreational or preschool levels. If students were to tell me that they wanted to drop from my class, I might suggest that they move into a class with a different teacher or take a different kind of dance.

Another possible issue with kids who claim they don’t like dance is a lack of confidence; lots of them don’t believe they’re good enough (even the ones who are). For some of them, their home environments create or contribute to this problem. For example, if a girl hears “Susie, you’re clumsy and uncoordinated” day in and day out from her parents, Susie has no reason not to believe them. It doesn’t cross her mind that her parents might have no idea what they’re talking about. So she shows up for class with ballet shoes in hand—and zero confidence, because she believes her parents’ criticism is true. Our ability to recognize and take action to encourage these children is not only the key to hanging on to them, it’s essential in making a difference in their lives.

Among the remaining 20 percent of students who quit taking dance lessons, the reasons vary. The following are some of the most common ones.

Boredom
This is a huge issue for students who drop. They sign up for dance thinking that they’re going to have fun—and they usually think it is until it comes time to learn choreography for the recital or year-end performance. Their enthusiasm wanes when they are expected to work on the same piece of choreography and listen to the same music for weeks or months at a time. Many will make it through the year because they are excited about being onstage, but often they have made a mental note that after the recital they will be done with dancing.

Spending less time on the same choreography and music will make a big difference to this group. Another approach to consider is getting that choreography done early, so that in the last six to eight weeks of class you can go back to the fun stuff that the kids registered for in the first place.

Unenthusiastic teachers
A lack of enthusiasm from a teacher will produce a similar response in the students, and it’s a tried-and-true recipe for losing your recreational and preschool kids. Teachers set the atmosphere of their classrooms; if they aren’t excited about the class, then neither will their students be. This occurs with teachers who would rather be somewhere else—and often that somewhere else is with the most advanced dancers. They have the attitude that the recreational students are beneath them, and the students know it.

Same ol’, same ol’
When students learn the same material each year, often as a result of new beginner students being added to an already established class, they fail to see any progression. Instead, they feel that they are being held back, learning the same material each season. Then, when it comes to choreography for the recital, some teachers cop out by using the same music and choreography that they’ve used in the past. The choreography is lame and the kids can feel it. They know that they’re second-class citizens.

Parental influence
If parents aren’t happy with the customer service or organization of the school, they tend to encourage their children to find another activity. This is especially a problem when a parent expects that a class will start and end at a certain time, yet that isn’t the way it goes. Another problem that makes them want to pull their children out of the school is “surprise” expenses. These parents expected to pay a certain amount for classes and the recital; then suddenly, to their surprise, they are hit with more fees that were never mentioned. Unhappy parents, in many cases, means unhappy students—and even when it doesn’t, many parents won’t continue to pay for a product they’re not satisfied with.

Intimidation
Students who are constantly compared to their more advanced peers—and who know they will never be able to accomplish that level of skill—will not feel good about dancing. Who wants to remain in a place that makes them feel inferior? Though some students may never develop technical expertise, a good teacher will find other positive aspects of their behavior or training to praise them for, like commitment, perseverance, a can-do attitude, achieving a personal best, expressiveness, creativity, or a sense of humor.

Not getting what they expected
Some school owners seem to think that they can tell kids one thing and do another. Disappoint them once too often, though, and you may find your roster shrinking. For example, if students register for a hip-hop class but find that it is taught by someone who has no hip-hop credentials, they will know it. They may quit dancing altogether or look for a real hip-hop class somewhere else.

I find that most school owners understand and try to avoid these problems, but for some reason they don’t communicate their beliefs to their faculty and staff. If you’re worried about your school’s dropout rate, bring these concerns to your next faculty and staff meeting. Once everyone in your school shares the same philosophy and behaviors, you should see that dropout rate start to decrease.

By Rhee Gold

If you’re a dancer who hits the competition circuit, you’ve noticed a trend: each year there are more and more solos at dance competitions. These soloists are dancers who have the guts to get onstage by themselves, are confident about their abilities, and aren’t afraid to accept the judges’ criticism. Most important, they are the dancers who are technically and emotionally ready for the experience. Or are they?

Twenty years ago, only a few deserving students from each studio danced solos. Today, though, just about everyone who wants to do one, does. So what’s wrong with that, you’re wondering?

Dancing a solo can be wonderful and motivational experience, but it can also be devastating. We all have seen dancers who lack confidence attempt their first solo, only to end up running offstage. Humiliation and embarrassment – two pretty nasty feelings to have as a result of doing something we’re supposed to love – take the place of the expected exhilaration and pride. In some cases, the disappointed dancer questions whether she wants to continue to dance. All this for a solo?

I’m Ready! (I Think)
You’re absolutely determined not to be embarrassed onstage, but how do you know when you’re ready to take on the challenge of a solo – and succeed?

Take a close, honest look at yourself and your dancing. You’re ready to solo when:

• you have made a serious commitment to yourself and to dance;
• you’re willing to go into the studio or your basement, on your own, to focus extra time on your solo;
• you are willing to take your solo apart count by count and make sure you know what’s up technically (where your arms are on every count, what the best angles are, and so on);
• you are willing to rehearse your solo full-out all the time in order to build stamina;
• you are technically ready.

OK, I Know I’m Ready—Now What?
When you finally get the opportunity to have that stage all to yourself, make sure that the audience and judges can see how much you love to dance. Focusing on the floor is a sign that you’re scared or lack confidence—look right at your audience and make them feel like they know you by the time your performance is over. If you are a true dancer, the satisfaction of an excellent performance will be all the motivation you need to work harder to get better and better. Don’t judge how you feel about your performance by the size of the trophy or the color of the medal.

Music Does Matter
Put that CD down! You are not going to use the most popular song of the year for your solo, no matter how much you love it and are dying to dance to it! Everyone will be using that song, and you don’t want to be the ninth dancer performing to it. Find something different, something you’ve never heard at a competition before. Go to your favorite music store or any other place that lets you listen to music, and spend time selecting the right piece of music for your personality.

If you’re always happy and have an outgoing personality, a somber song might not be the right choice for you. But a tune from a Broadway show might be perfect. Maybe you’re experiencing love for the first time; if so, you might want to choose a beautiful lyric song that expresses how you’re feeling. If you’re a little rebellious, something totally “off the wall” might be appropriate. Whatever you choose should reflect you. Feeling strongly connected to the music gives you the extra confidence you need for a great performance.

Less Is More
I always tell dancers to leave their audience (or judges) wanting more. I think one or two good solos is enough; dancers who do four or five solos start to score lower by the time they get to the third or fourth one. Why? Because if you’re overexposed, the judges will start to focus on your flaws. Better to give one or two excellent performances than to spread yourself out to the point where none of the solos are as strong as they could be.

Walk, Don’t Run
It’s hard to be patient when you see dancers who are less talented than you performing solos at every competition. But readiness is all, so put aside your ego, take a close look at your goals and motivations, and talk to your teachers. They can offer an objective assessment of whether you’re ready to solo. Trust their judgment, do what you know you can do, and get ready for a positive performing experience!