Written by our dearest Maia Charanis…..
Like much of the dance community, my dancing and teaching has gone virtual. My director offers our daily classes online, and I teach the classes that are still running via Zoom.
It’s certainly not the same as being in-studio, but we all keep repeating the mantra “at least it’s better than nothing”.
But what happens if I really just want to do…nothing?
I understand why some of my students might be struggling with virtual classes. Because I’m struggling with them too.
I do take class seriously, focusing on getting the phrasing right and executing the steps with proper technique. I focus on expanding my artistry and all the other things teachers and directors constantly remind you to do.
But class is also a place for me to socialize, to be around friends who share the common passion of dance. I can joke with them and struggle with them and laugh with them and they get it. We are all in it – whether it’s class, rehearsal or a performance – together.
So taking a virtual class alone, connected via a screen is not the same. I can’t feel the energy in the room. That electric buzz or the blanket of serenity. I can’t mark the choreography in the corner with my friends and quietly debate whether your arm makes a large arch or a small arch.
My world revolves around dance, whether I’m doing it or teaching it, and it has for a very long time. So it would seem that in a time of crisis I would instinctively turn to dance to cope. And folks, we are certainly in a crisis. But I haven’t turned to dance every single day to cope.
Some days I wake up and I’m ready to go. It’s easy to put on some dance clothes, make my morning cup of tea and head to the studio in my basement (which I’m very lucky to have). Other days, I ignore my alarm and roll over and try to push away the guilt that I’m not going to take one of the seemingly hundreds of virtual classes being offered.
It makes me feel like a bad professional dancer, and a bad example for my students, that I can’t make myself take at least one class every day. Some days, I just want to be a potato, and read and work and write and nap.
Teaching virtually is by far one of the most difficult jobs I’ve ever had to do. For so many of us as teachers, our love for dance and our love for our students is what drives us. And it is hard to see them struggle and know that our options are limited. I can no longer sit in the studio and chat with a dancer after class, to reassure them that they are making progress and that I see improvement. I can no longer pull a dancer aside discretely and ask what’s going on, noticing that they seem a little out of it today.
Teaching through a screen alters the human experience of being a teacher.
To my students, I just want to say that I really do get it. Some days you’re going to log in to our Zoom class and be ready to go. I love that. Some days you’re going to log in and you’re going to mess up every combination. I love that too. Some days you’re not going to make it to class because you struggled with doing online school or you’re fed up with being stuck in the house and unable to visit with friends. I feel it too.
Come to class as much as you can, even if you’re not sure how good the class will go for you. If anything, come to class to see your friends and maybe move your body a little bit. I’m giving you permission to remove the pressure I know you’re putting on yourself. Right now, we don’t have to be the best. We just have to try.
I promise I’m trying too, but I’m human. Some weeks I’ll take class 3-4 times. Other weeks I’ll take class 2 times. Other weeks I’ll add extra exercises, other weeks I’ll barely make it through barre. Some weeks teaching through a computer won’t seem so bad. Other weeks I’ll agonize over every minute, over every exercise, over every reaction I think I’m seeing.
Although we’re separated, we’re not alone. We’re going through this together. Just do your best, and I promise I’ll do the same.
Many thanks to Maia for sharing with us! Read more from Maia on her blog HERE.