Using Teaching to Supplement Your Salary

Teaching a contemporary class

Most dancers that identify themselves as independent dance artists need to have some type of backup plan to sustain themselves during off times, supplement their income, or throw some extra spending money in their pockets. While a handful of dancers choose to make some of their income working at a restaurant, as a barista, and at other non-dance jobs, I wouldn't be afraid to make the claim that a majority of freelancers use teaching dance classes to supplement their dancer salary.

Some dancers teach because it seems like the most obvious and practical way to work in their field when they aren't dancing in a studio themselves. Whether they are or aren't passionate about passing on our art, it is much more lucrative to teach an hour and a half dance class than it often is to work in other fields. Luckily, for me, teaching has never been an unfortunate necessity to help supplement my income. I have always known that I wanted to teach and freelancing has only allowed me to incorporate this aspect of dance into my schedule.

My interest in teaching didn't come naturally. In my earlier training years, I was more focused on the number of pirouettes I could execute than sharing my knowledge of dance with those younger than me. It wasn't until the age of 16 that I really took notice in the importance of having a passionate, caring instructor. Kimberly Martin, or Ms. Kim, was the first teacher that I had that went way out of her way to help me along my path towards becoming a professional dancer. I had many instructors that worked their asses off to get me to where I did, but Ms. Kim was a bit different. When she realized how passionate I was about dancing, she took me under her wing, coached me, inspired me, and even let me live with her on the weekends to extend my training as far as she could. Beyond that, I had incredible experiences with Claudio Munoz during my summers at the Houston Ballet Academy, Jock Soto and Peter Boal at the School of American Ballet, Paul Gibson as a Ballet Master with Pacific Northwest Ballet, and Bob Rizzo of Riz-Biz Productions. As teachers and mentors, these people showed me how giving and unselfish the art of teaching can be. Existing in the somewhat selfish profession of ballet, where you spend countless hours staring in the mirror and working on yourself, I knew I had to find a way to pull myself out of the narcissism involved in self-correcting and instruct those that had similar dreams.

The first time I tried to gain teaching experience was when Peter Boal took over PNB. Sitting in my first evaluation with my new boss and former teacher, I vocalized my interest in developing my chops as an instructor. I assumed that we would quickly bond over this since his teaching had inspired me only a few years prior. It was a bit surprising when he responded, "I think you should really focus on your dancing right now." Nearly, a decade later, I don't necessarily disagree with his opinion. But I still wish that he had given me the opportunity to develop my skills under his tutelage.

It wasn't until a summer layoff a handful of years into my career that I got my first true opportunity to conduct a classroom. I was visiting home for a few weeks between seasons when the director of my home studio called to see if I wanted to teach a few ballet classes for their week-long intensive. I jumped at the chance and nervously developed a lesson plan for the class. Secretly, I hoped that I would show up, leave the paper sitting in the corner, and prove the genius of a teacher that I was on my first try. But in reality, having a written lesson plan helped me out a great deal, as I was no prodigy. Where I think I lacked in experience, I made up for in blind passion.

I didn't have many opportunities to teach outside of, maybe, three more individual classes at home until I began working as a freelancer. The closest I got to working with students would be the three years I choreographed new works on the Professional Division students for PNB's annual Next Step Choreographer's Showcase. While I didn't get to work with this young talent in a classroom setting, I still had the gratification of helping these kids along their path.

Once I started freelancing, I realized how important it was that I find ways to supplement my income. I googled Philadelphia Ballet School, came up with a contact list of training facilities in the region, and started sending my information out in search for work. Only a few schools responded and, of those, only one ended up working out. I was extremely excited to get in the studio, but I was also a bit nervous for my classes. My nerves had gotten the best of me and when the school director asked how much teaching experience I had, I lied and told them that I had three years. The honest truth was that the number three was just a little less than the number of classes I had taught. My untruth meant that I would have to show up with undeniable confidence and avoid any errors in instruction. Luckily, things worked out well. Perhaps, I was kind of a natural.

Adv. Ballet class w/Alaska Dance Theatre (My Students & Pianist)

Over the past 3 1/2 years, I have taught everywhere from local schools to pre-professional training academies and for companies that hold drop-in classes. Recently, I have added professional dancers to the mix; teaching company class for Eugene Ballet, the National Choreographers Initiative, and Koresh Dance Company. All of these have been incredible, but the most rewarding experience I have had in my short teaching career has been working for nearly four months as Interim Artistic Director for Alaska Dance Theatre.

Getting to spend so much time working with my students at ADT, I was able to see the fruits of our labor in working towards perfection. In almost four months of classes, the students that I worked with had exploded technically and grew a great deal as artists. My passion for dance and their trust in my instruction created this incredible atmosphere where you could feel a tingling energy the moment that each class started.

One of my students at Alaska Dance Theatre - When I arrived, her leg was at 90 degrees, knee was bent, & foot wasn't fully extended. This was taken two months later.

I always knew in my heart that I had talent as a teacher. Dance isn't just my vocation. It is my ultimate passion. I immerse nearly every moment of my day in the dance world. My approach to teaching is essentially my own version of (and a way better version than) No Child Left Behind. No matter talent, body-type, or level, I always try my best to make sure that every student receives a handful of corrections throughout class. The schools that I have taught at have ranged from recreational dance schools to academies that only work to train professional dancers. Here and there, I have heard recreational school owners tell me that the kids just want to have fun. My instant reaction to this is, "Dancing is a lot more fun when you can do it well." I am tough, but I am honest and I don't let dancers get away with wanting anything less than the best for themselves.

It is very sad that I will not be returning to Alaska for the upcoming semester (though I will be returning to teach at their summer intensive in June). But lost opportunities can lead to new ones, sometimes instantly. The last few weeks I was in Alaska, I learned that the famous Millennium Dance Complex franchise was opening a new school in Philadelphia. Not only is this institution bringing commercial dance classes to my city, it opened its' doors a block away from my apartment. It seemed too good to be true. So, I sent my information to the owners, was hired on the spot, and solidified my place on the faculty at Millennium. After returning home from Alaska to a week of Nutcracker and another week to adjust to being home, this Saturday I begin teaching an Advanced/Professional Ballet class and an Advanced Contemporary class at this renowned institution. I am very excited to have the opportunity to continue having a regular place to continue teaching and look forward to gaining more teaching opportunities in the near future! Cheers!

Why "30" is a frightening age for most dancers

Alright. Alright. I turned 30 a few weeks ago. I'm lucky that I still look like I'm in my mid-twenties (or so people have told me), even though I have stepped quietly into my thirties. When revealing my age to other dancers over the past few years, I have been encouraged to lie about my age multiple times. "Why would you tell me the truth when you could easily lie down a few years." While I couldn't imagine telling people I was 25, it does make one consider if age is really that important in dance. Why does it matter if you still look and dance young.

Blowing out candles on my 30th birthday

During the weeks leading up to my mid-October birthday, I slowly spiraled into a bit of a depression. I was, mostly, in denial about the reasoning, but what it came down to was that I wouldn't be home on my birthday, my partner wouldn't be joining me in Los Angeles due to financial constraints, and I had told myself for years that I wanted to dance until I am at least 30. As the day got closer, I became more anxious, stressed, and low. Then, the day came. My host family made me feel special, my new friends made me feel cared about, my phone and Facebook exploded with love, and I was in the studio rehearsing for a show that I was excited to perform. The day came and the day passed. And I was left with a comfortable feeling in my chest. It really wasn't that big of a deal. So, why did I freak out about turning 30?

The number one fear of every single dancer is that their career will end today. We know it will end, but we don't know when. How will I go? Will I get bored? Will I have a traumatic fall? Will my body start giving out? Will I get fired and not find another job? Or will I get to choose when I go and how I go? The reality of it all? Who knows. And while we are enjoying a career in a field that is nearly impossible to become a part of, more often than not, we are trying to put off the imminent end, one plie and day at a time. We have all heard stories of harsh endings to a promising career. Most of us professionals have stood behind a fellow dancer as they take their final bow. The end is almost always bittersweet, but more often bitter and less often sweet. With all of this said, the age 30 represents a lot to many dancers.

During the summer of 2003, I transitioned from student to professional. A week before I left home to start my career with Houston Ballet, I got some very wise advice from a teacher that had just left Miami City Ballet at the age of 24. She told me to stay away from negative dancers. Her advice continued, "There will always be dancers who bitch and complain about anything and everything. If you hang out with them, even if you feel positive about work, they will bring you down and, eventually, you may start to feel the same way." This was some of the most valuable advice I ever received. And with that advice, I set a goal for myself. I want my career to outlast her impressive, but short 6-year career. Once I hit 24, I had to set a new goal because I still felt I had a lot of time. After some thought, I decided that my next marker would be the age of 30. My mentor and childhood dance teacher danced until she was 30. It seemed an obvious age to strive and reach towards. Once I hit 30, I should feel content and successful. Right?

Dancing Mercutio at 26 w/ James Moore (Photo: Angela Sterling)

When I was 26 years old, I went in for my annual artistic evaluation with the director of Pacific Northwest Ballet, Peter Boal. These contractually-obligated, yearly meetings are a time to get some feedback and to give some feedback. Peter asked me how old I was. When I said that I was 26, he nodded and smiled. "Yes. Yes. You have a few years left in you." All in all, I think Peter was trying to pay me a compliment. But immediately my insecurities about the imminent end of my career kicked in. What was he trying to say? In my vocabulary, few means 3. Did he just mark me with an
expiration date? How dare he say that. Is he going to fire me when I turn 30? At the beginning of the next season, I decided I would leave the company at the end of that season. There were a few other factors involved, but I honestly think that this one, simple comment stayed with me and was a major factor in my decision to go. I was sure that I would be pushed out of the company by the time I was 30, so I felt that I needed to leave to give myself a chance to continue dancing beyond that.

During my audition tour, I found a mixed bag of responses in my efforts to obtain a new job. I just spent 7 years dancing with one of the top companies in the country, where I had danced a handful of leading roles. Shouldn't everyone want to get a hold of me? What I found during my tour was that there is a lot more to hiring a dancer than their ability, potential, and/or notoriety. Older dancers are more experienced and they expect to be compensated for that time put in. We are more expensive. And, yes, I was an older dancer at the age of 27. Also, if a dancer goes to an AGMA company after already having danced for one, they can not be demoted. They must enter the company at the same or higher rank than they previously were with their former company. Beyond this, when a student is being hired into a company, they are, most often, hired purely on their potential. When a company contracts a more experienced dancer, they are less likely to hire a dancer for their potential and more likely to hire them if they know they are planning on moving them forward in the company. There are few mid-career dancers hired with the thought that they may be a valuable corps member or that they may have the potential to grow into a higher ranked dancer. For some of these reasons, it was very difficult for me to find a job as a middle-aged dancer.

Although I had a lot of disheartening realizations during my audition tour, there was one moment that really struck me. I have always been interested in the contemporary side of dance. One of my audition stops, which frightened me more than any other, was auditioning for Hubbard Street Dance Chicago. This was way out of my comfort zone and knowledge of the dance world. After taking class for a few days and learning a bit of repertoire, I sat down to speak with the artistic director, Glenn Edgerton. Glenn told me that he saw a lot of potential in me and thought if I got more contemporary work under my belt and came back to audition, that I might be a good candidate for the company. Following this, he asked me the same question that had been posed to me a year prior, "How old are you?" I stated my age and Mr. Edgerton quickly responded, "Oh good. You still have plenty of time." I was taken aback. For the last year, I was convinced that my career would be dead by the age of 30. This conversation gave me hope then and it gives me hope today.

As we all know, soon after this audition tour, I took a job in Philadelphia, which eventually led to me freelancing full-time. I've discussed in previous blog posts that it can become easy to live in a state of fear that your career is coming to an end when freelancing. Mine has continued through my late twenties all of my own making. And it is wildly stressful and taxing. So, as my 30th birthday approached, I started to think. "Well, my goal was to dance until I am 30. And this past year was successful, but emotionally and financially straining. How much longer can I do this? Is this it? Is this the goal I'm reaching where there won't be a next goal?" This conversation started playing itself over and over again in my head. And it is a very dangerous conversation to be having. Fortunately and unfortunately, the conversation stopped when the clock hit October 14th and I entered into middle-aged/older-aged dancer territory.

What I have learned since that day is pretty obvious to everyone and everything that doesn't exist inside my head. Nothing has changed. I am still dancing. I still want to dance. I didn't hit 30 and know the exact date of the death of my dance career. I still take class every day. My body didn't instantaneously begin to fall apart like Cinderella's attire when the clock hit midnight. I still look for the next job. I still have hopes, dreams, and aspirations as a dancer. I do feel a bit wiser and that I can truly share that wisdom based off of experience. I think it is best to say I am a more experienced dancer than an older one. I know that full-time freelancing needs to slowly turn into part-time freelancing, as I really miss having a sense of home, focus, and regularity. But that doesn't mean that my career is slowing down. It just means that it needs to focus back into company/long-term gig work (maybe Broadway). But the most interesting realization I have had is this. While I have always been a person to set a marker to reach, I haven't this time around. I don't want to worry about working towards dancing until I'm 40. If I reach that goal, I will feel successful. But if I don't, I will likely be disappointed. I would love it if I'm still healthy, happy, and dancing professionally at 40. But this time around, I don't need to set another goal to feel successful if I reach it. I have been successful and I am successful at what I do and love.

With all of this said, I leave my readers with this amazing quote from Houston Ballet's former physical therapist, Cody Brazos. One of the dancers in the company broke her foot in class after landing awry in a saut de chat. While crying in pain and panicking that her career was ending, Cody calmly looked this dancer in the eyes and said, "There is no timeline to a dance career."

There is life in dance after 30 (w/Ellen Green after the launch of Barak Ballet)

Memorable Moments

When you've been dancing for 10+ years, there are a vast number of moments that happen throughout your career that really stand out to you. Some of these moments are pivotal to your career moving forward, while sometimes they are the biggest setbacks. At other times, these moments can be downright funny. I've decided to move away from a freelance specific post this week and focus on dance careers as a whole. Here are a handful of moments throughout my career that have been more than your typical, run-of-the-mill experiences. Enjoy!

Promising - It took a while for me to really get noticed after I joined Pacific Northwest Ballet. The first few seasons I was typically pushed to the back or left to dance in the 2nd cast corps of many ballets. When the company brought in stagers to set William Forsythe's iconic One Flat Thing, Reproduced (click link for video), all of that changed. The company went through a series of workshops and auditions in order to be considered for this piece. At the end of those three days, my name went up to learn this piece in the 1st cast. This was the first time that I ever really got to do a leading role with the company. In the cast of 13, I was one of only 2 corps dancers that got to dance this piece the first time around. After I got noticed, Peter Boal told me that he had never considered me for roles like that until they had pointed me out. In the years to come, I found myself dancing multiple leading roles in the contemporary repertoire of the company.

The whole cast of "One Flat Thing, Repoduced"

Embarrassing - It is pretty hard to embarrass me. Accidentally pulling down my tights while taking off my warm-ups, falling in class, and having a blooper onstage have always been a good laugh instead of an embarrassing story. If I had to name one moment that would be the most embarrassing, it would be when I was dancing with Alaska Dance Theatre this past winter. I was performing a solo to Johnny Cash's Walk the Line in an open rehearsal for donors. The very last moments of this piece had to be perfectly timed as I performed a series of running jumps and rolls to the floor only to end on one knee with my right leg held in one hand while being strummed like a guitar with my other hand. As I got to the point where I strum my leg and roll backwards over my shoulder into the wing, I realized I was early. As I strummed my leg, I very loudly dropped the F bomb for the entire room to hear. As I rolled over my shoulder, my hands covered my mouth and I very sheepishly apologized to the audience as they all roared with laughter. Luckily, they saw the humor in my error.

Funniest - When I was dancing with Houston Ballet, we toured to Cleveland to perform Ben Stevenson's Cinderella. In one of the shows, we had a bit of a snafu during the ballroom scene. It was that beautiful moment when all becomes quiet and Cinderella's carriage pulls up to the ball. As the 4 corps dancers dressed as horses pulled the carriage across the raised platform, you could hear one of the stage crew members scream. At that point, the carriage started to tilt, a la Titanic, and fell backwards off the raised platform with Cinderella still inside. The driver, the doorman, and one of the horses flew backwards off the platform while the other 3 horses struggled to get the carriage back upright. Once a few stagehands dove behind the platform to push it back up, it was back on track to make Cinderella's entrance to the ball. If you thought it couldn't get any worse, as principal dancer Lauren Anderson, stepped out of the carriage, her cape snagged on the door as she bourree'd forward. She pulled as hard as possible and was thrust forward about 3 feet when it finally tore off. All of this happened as the music quiets and the corps de ballet turns upstage to watch her entrance. Let's just say that even with our backs to the audience, you could see our shoulders jiggling up and down with laughter.

Challenging - When I first moved to Philly and was dancing with a local contemporary ballet company, I danced a pas de deux choreographed by Amy Seiwert. This duet to Jeff Buckley's cover of Hallelujah was essentially an emotionally wrought 8-minute lift-fest that ended with a deadly
dead-weight lift. Beyond the 6 shows that we performed in that one week, we also had two days of rehearsal and a dress rehearsal before we started the run. I couldn't believe I survived that week (I also danced in another piece on that program).

The beginning of that final lift - Chloe Felesina and myself dancing Amy Seiwert's "Not a Cry." (Photo: Alexander Izaliev)

Rewarding -Throughout my year at the School of American Ballet, I auditioned for 14 different ballet companies. While most students only auditioned for the companies that they really wanted to dance for, I was convinced that I had to audition everywhere to get a job. After spending 4 stressful months pushing my body and mind to the limit, I was able to choose my apprenticeship with Houston Ballet from 7 job offers.

Humbling - During my 3 years as a union representative at PNB, I had to handle a mix of legitimate complaints and selfish requests from dancers. But nothing was more humbling than watching the entire company come together to unanimously vote to freeze our salaries for one season to save 7 dancers jobs. My fellow rep and I put a lot of hard work into putting this deal together. I may have shed a few tears when we counted all of the votes and not one dancer chose their pay raise over their colleagues careers.

Daring - I was never really a dancer that got things easily. As a teenager, the director of my home dance studio constantly suggested that I go into what I was good at, jazz and modern dance. When I got into the Kirov Academy of Ballet, as Madame Vinogradova said, "It's slow year for boys." Halfway through that year, I was pulled aside and told that I should stop auditioning for ballet companies and focus on organizations like Momix. At the end of that season, I had solidified a Corps de Ballet contract with Colorado Ballet at the ripe age of 18. I had also been offered to attend the School of American Ballet summer intensive on a full scholarship, an invite that had not been presented to me the previous 3 times I had tried. Attending this school had been my dream since the age of 15 and inspired me to focus on ballet. I asked SAB if they were going to ask me to stay for the year and they told me they couldn't tell me until the 3rd week of the summer intensive. So, I signed my contract with Colorado Ballet and went to SAB for the summer. At the end of the first week of the intensive, Jock Soto pulled me aside and offered for me to stay for the year. After much deliberation, I decided that I couldn't turn my dream down. I called Colorado Ballet and told them I wasn't able to fulfill my contract and would spend another year training. One of the best decisions I ever made in my career.

Magical - While on tour with PNB to the Vail International Dance Festival, the company was rehearsing after warming up on the outdoor amphitheater where most performances take place. As two dancers began to dance the beautiful pas de deux from Christopher Wheeldon's After the Rain, thunder started to lightly roll in. By the time that the pas de deux was finished it was raining everywhere but under the canopy of the amphitheater. It was such a mystical and beautiful moment that everybody present was completely entranced.

Being Puck-ish with Jessika Anspach

Gratifying - When I went to the School of American Ballet back in the summer of 2002, in typical fashion, New York City Ballet performed their final program of their spring season, Balanchine's A Midsummer Night's Dream. While most male dancers dream of performing the lead role of Oberon, I instantly fell in love with the mischief and animation of Puck. My final season at PNB, I got to perform Puck right before I left the company. My debut in this role also happened on the night of PNB's Backstage Bash, my favorite event of the year. This occasion was a dance party thrown backstage after a performance. This event was put on by the young patrons/audience growing group that I was a liason for throughout my time with the company. To perform this role that inspired me as a student on such a special night with so many friends and supporters in the audience made this performance not only gratifying, but magical.

Biggest Mistake - The most common mistake that most dancers make is pretty much the same across the board. Whether involving a great opportunity in the form of a role, proving yourself in a new company, or fear of judgement, working through an injury and telling those around you that you are alright when you are not is a horrible idea. It's interesting how acting stoic through an injury is often considered heroic and selfless. But in the end, aside from making the injury worse, it could end your career. Or, even worse, put you through a lifetime of pain. I did this after a back injury during my first season dancing with a new company. Unfortunately, there were many other factors in my decision to dance through the pain. At a certain point, I realized that I couldn't continue dancing in such pain and took time off. Unfortunately, the company was not understanding of the situation.

Me performing Tharp's "Waterbaby Bagatelles" (Photo: Angela Sterling)

Horrifying - The first time that PNB performed Twyla Tharp's Waterbaby Bagatelles (I can be seen turning at :22 seconds in this link) was an interesting experience. This was my first introduction to Twyla's work. Waterbaby was a challenging piece that played with the idea that we were fish dancing in an aquarium. One of the most challenging lifts was for one of the principal couples. It was an overhead star lift that had the woman parallel to the floor with arms and legs in an X and the man only holding her waist above his head. After class, the dancers were practicing this lift when the female's body tilted forward and the male lost his grip. She slid through his hands over the back of his head and fell straight down belly flopping onto the floor. As she lay on the floor unconscious for about 20 seconds, everybody looked on in horror. Slowly she looked up, seeing all of the people staring at her and asked, "What happened?" Surprisingly, she stood up completely uninjured.

Least Shy - My final year dancing for PNB, we performed Jiri Kylian's Sechs Tanze. For the performances, I was 1st cast "Megastar" and 3rd cast in one of the trios. While being cast as a "Megastar" sounds like a rock star part, it didn't involve any dancing. I had to wheel a massive, old-style dress out in front of my body, only to have another dancer underneath it wheel the dress right offstage. The gimmick? I was wearing only a thong-ed dance belt with a fig leaf over my goodies. When asked if I had a problem with this, I said, "No. My only problem is that Im not dancing first cast." (of course spoken with a wink). They told me, I should run offstage sideways, as to avoid exposing my bare ass to the nearly 3,000-seat theatre. When my moment came on opening night, my dress rolled away, I did my job, and promptly turned forward to run to the wings, giving everybody a little taste of what they truly came for.

Shocking - One reason that I left PNB was because I felt that I needed to be surrounded by the most passionate artists around. Working for the same company for a long period of time can, at times, leave workers feeling apathetic and uninspired. When I left, I was on a mission to surround myself with passionate, driven artists. In my mind, I saw myself hanging out with the likes of Andy Warhol. My first summer project out of company work, I danced with a small modern company to recreate a classic work by a modern master. When we arrived in NYC to have a rehearsal with the 95-year old choreographer, we stepped not only into her studio, but her home. I asked one of the dancers where the bathroom was and he told me to go through the lobby, through the bedroom, and the bathroom would be there. I was utterly dumbfounded when I saw this elderly woman sleeping in a bed that was behind the front desk in the lobby. At this point, I realized that I had found exactly what I had been looking for. Passionate artists. And I also realized that it is important to find a healthy middle-ground.

Prideful - During my 7 seasons with PNB, I danced practically every role in The Nutcracker. The only role that alluded me was the Cavalier that danced with Clara in the snow scene and 2nd act grand pas de deux. I always dreamed that I would eventually be asked to dance that role with a live orchestra playing as I lead the company. Last year, I was asked to dance that role with Rochester City Ballet. To be brought in to dance this role for a professional company was a great honor. And to do it with a live orchestra made it all the better.