The Value of Striving

Or: You don’t have to show up perfect.

The Importance of Pursuing 

A few days ago, one of my beginner dance students asked: “How would you grade us on that exercise?” Ughhhh, I prickled. I hate being asked for specific grades, measurements, scores… “A+!” I joked (or was I serious?), and then, avoiding the question, more seriously responded, “That was great! There was lots of good effort being put in, and I can see the progress and improvement from the first times we did it,” which was a response that felt both true and evasive. Luckily the student accepted that, and we moved on. 

Thinking about it now, I still get tingly and uncomfortable at the thought of having to assess and assign value to moving bodies. As soon as we put ourselves into a system of measurement, there’s a world of nuance that is lost. A grade does not account for effort, persistence, growth; all things that I whole-heartedly value as an educator and strive to cultivate in the studio. 

I think the learning and teaching of Western dance forms is uniquely susceptible to the pressures of assigning value based on performance, thereby missing the more valuable experiences that learning to dance can offer. In addition to the specific techniques and grading rubrics that exist in each dance style, there is also the very real comparison that exists in all dance spaces. Because dance is a physical, performative form, it’s easy to see who’s got it and who doesn’t. Whose leg can lift the highest, who has the best balance, who can remember the combination with the least stress. Despite best efforts, hiding in the back row of the studio doesn’t often relieve the anxiety of Everyone can tell how much I’m struggling, and they’re judging me for it. 

I’m not immune to this… I often find myself assessing my willingness to take a dance class based on my self-confidence that day. I haven’t been good about practicing lifting my legs to the back….what if there’s a bunch of those as part of the class? 

On my best days, I can remember that taking class is about the process of development, and there’s no need to show up fully formed. This can be a challenge, especially when surrounded by talented dancers. 

Class as a Place to Fail

One of the things I love about teaching and choreographing is that I get to shape the environment of the room. I get to show up and say, “Don’t be afraid to fail. Class is the place to try and fail boldly.” In addition to relieving some anxiety and getting a chuckle from participants, doing this calls attention to the fact that we’re all here for the same thing: to work on ourselves (myself included), and that’s not always a neat and tidy process.

Sounds nice, right? Because how many other spaces can we relieve ourselves of the pressures of achievement? How many other places in our life can we take risks, whether physical, emotional, or mental, and truly not have repercussions from “failure”? Can we walk away in an hour and say, “That was challenging, but no matter.” 

The thing that matters is the showing up, whatever state that is. The best dance spaces will encourage and leave space for the messiness or the tidiness of your moving self that day. 

Every class I show up to teach, I’m inspired by the people in the room: they all lead rich and diverse lives where dance is not a professional pursuit. They come to dance because it brings them joy, a moment to connect with their bodies, free from the needs of family or work or other commitments. It’s important to me to cultivate this atmosphere, and promote an environment where risks can be taken, attempting (and failing) is a valuable experience, and that learning is really in the struggle, not in the achievement of “perfection.”