A fellow flamenca who writes a funny blog of her own, www.marriedtothedance.com, wrote on my facebook wall Friday morning, “So glad you’re back in the game :-)” She was wishing me luck for my first night back at teaching dance class that night, an integral part of my comeback – which I have actually stuck to for 2 months and 3 days. Now that there are students involved, well, there’s no turning back. There’s no slouching, there’s no backsliding, there are no excuses.
I had been nervous all day Thursday and Friday as I put together my music choices and ran through the technique exercises that I wanted to cover in that first lesson. It’s been almost exactly 6 years since I’ve taught a class. Would I be able to talk while demonstrating and keeping time with the music? Would I be able to project in a studio that is pretty massive (and very nice, I might add, JOA Wellness and Performing Arts Center, www.joawellness.com, owned by the lovely Audry Jung and managed by the also lovely Sunny Stoltz). Have I gotten myself into good enough shape over the past few months to look like I belong up there? Will the sound system cooperate with me?
The first glitch was that everyone started calling my cell on their way to the class – lost! The studio is set way back from the sidewalk of a major street, Wilshire Boulevard, in LA. But that was throwing everyone off. There are these two tall, mirror-image office buildings with a courtyard between them, and you have to walk waaaaaaaaay to the back of the courtyard before you even see the studio on your left. I should have tied polkadot balloons out front. Or set plastic pink flamingos into the ground. Something.
We started late because of all of that confusion. At least we’re the last class of the night, so I was able to go overtime.
I had played around with the sound system earlier in the afternoon, and, yes, it did cooperate that night. A special thank you to Sunny for clueing me in on the little quirks.
So I started the music, faced myself in the mirror, faced my students in the mirror, and took that first breath, that first plié, and raised my arms overhead to lead dance students for the first time in 6 long years. I let the breath out and lowered my arms – and found myself able to talk. While moving. With good form. While looking from student to student and making corrections. And even praising them when they made the corrections. I was doing it! It was falling into place! I really was back in the game.
The class went so smoothly, and I actually covered more than I had planned. I still got to joke around here and there, but we got so much work done. Good, solid work. Everyone knew they were gonna be sore on Saturday, but in a really good way.
At the end of class, one of the students, a woman who has taken some flamenco before and whom I was just meeting for the first time Friday night, said she almost started crying during the closing of the class. I end my classes with a piece of music that may not necessarily be pure flamenco, but it’s usually something slower and emotional, and it has some relationship to flamenco; I improvise some movement and have everyone just follow along. There is never any talking or active teaching. It’s really more about entering into the music and breathing and feeling. I use this time as an opportunity to show people how much you can do with even just a little technique under your belt. Anyway, this student said she almost started crying because it was so beautiful. I told her and the class that if I start crying to just ignore me, and we all had a good laugh.
By the time I got home, which was quite soon as I live very close by, another one of the students had already posted on facebook that he “had hella fun taking flamenco class.” Then he added that he was trying to “get” my hands and that I had a very “natural” way of teaching flamenco. It took me hours to calm down enough to go to sleep.
Tonight, Monday, was my second night of teaching. Again a little nervous beforehand, I was tired from grading final exams in my day job, and I would have to dig deeper to give a good class. But, wow, people started showing up – a few students I knew, a few new students referred by a friend of a friend, and a student whom I had taught at Taos High School who recently moved to LA – and the adrenaline started pumping.
Ugh, another late start because of lingering difficulties with some people finding the studio as well as a technical glitch with the sound system – I knew it would happen one of these days – but once we got going, we really got going. This class covered even more ground than Friday’s class.
As always, I closed the class with improv movement, and when I finished and looked at everyone’s faces, they were all just melting with emotion. How wonderful.
As I was leaving, I ran into two students on the sidewalk; they have taken some flamenco before. And they both yelled out to me simultaneously, “Your arms!” Then it was a jumble of, “They’re so beautiful! Oh, my God! And you teach us all the details! What you said, I finally got it! Oh, my God! We're coming back Friday!” I gave credit for my arms to Ciro (see my blog post, 99% Work) and Vida Peral (see my blog post, Vida Peral, Dancer/Teacher/Choreographer) and then practically skipped home with the biggest smile on my face. Oh, man, Ciro would be so proud! (Oh, wait, I hope so. No, wait, he would be!) Confidence restored, no more nerves.
Game. On.
