My first dance studio was close to home. My neighbors took class there so we signed up.
It had 2 studios–one with a splinter-filled sprung floor, the other, linoleum tiles over concrete. It was next to a bar and exotic pet shop so we’d always find crickets roaming around.
I was scared of the bathroom because it was in a dark hallway that smelled like cigarettes and the teachers could watch our classes from behind a two-way mirror.
But it was at this studio where I learned tap dance, where I learned I loved performing. I had two amazing teachers who made the biggest impact on me: Patty for tap and Jamie for jazz.
One afternoon, we pulled up to the studio for my class and found the doors locked.
The studio closed unexpectedly and without warning.
It was confusing and sad, but Jamie got in touch with a lot of the competition team families. She said if we gave her a year, we’d have a new studio to call home.
A lot of us went with Jamie and took class in a school auditorium and various classrooms she rented. Luckily, she had a connection with this school. She talked to me about moving up a level and I agreed and promised I would work hard.
Jamie and her mom made it happen. We had a new studio. It was next to an arcade or something and we had random men and boys always trying to look into our classes. We’d have to draw the blinds or fog up the windows with our sweat.
Sara and Jenny were my most influential teachers at the new studio. They were tough and their choreography was brilliant. They were amazing dancers who everyone looked up to.
Eventually, Jamie’s family had to move states. The studio was sold to one of the comp families and we had to switch locations.
So. A new studio yet again!
This one was smaller, there were less students and the comp team was shrinking. The building was a chiropractor’s office who needed to downsize and we were neighbors to a Taekwondo studio.
Student enrollment was down, the owner was having health issues, and the 2008 financial crisis put the final nail in the coffin. Our last recital was in 2009. It was the same day Michael Jackson died.
I was set to graduate high school in 2010, so the owner decided to keep the four of us senior dancers and rent out studio space for one year. We competed in the Spring and that was the end.
Off I went to college. I had made my university’s dance team so I kept up my career for the next four years. It was a student run club, but my friend Tiffany pushed me and made me a better dancer.
I became Treasurer and eventually Captain of that team alongside my friend Kayla, and we made sure we had proper uniforms and custom costumes. We competed at USA National Dance Championships.
When I graduated, I started teaching at a sports center that focused on gymnastics and they were trying to build their dance program.
My mentor, Amanda, taught me how to teach as I assisted her classes
After a year and a half, I moved on to teach at a small dance studio where I got to teach competition classes and choreograph. I started halfway through their season, substituting for the 3 teachers who were pregnant at the time.
I had a separate class I rented the studio for and I taught two of my teen tappers from the first studio–that was my first taste of having a business.
Things were going well. I enjoyed the families, I loved teaching, I loved choreographing. The parents of my mini tap team called the group “The Fab Five” and we all grew close.
Our 2019-2020 season was going okay. I was under a lot of stress–to the point of involuntary twitches in my eyes and legs–because I was choreographing 6 routines for the holiday show on top of the competition groups.
2020 rolled around and we had to shut down everything. Families couldn’t afford our classes, we stripped the schedule, and I was down to teaching 4 hours per week and on unemployment.
It was 2008 all over again, but worse. This time, I couldn’t do anything for my students like my teachers did for me.
The owner decided to close. She made some sort of deal with a larger studio and accepted a job from them.
The owner and I had a falling out. She ignored my class suggestions to add to our thinned schedule and so I started teaching them on the side. I was trying to make up for my lost income and keep my students dancing. She let me down as a leader then she accused me of stealing.
Around 10 students followed me to a different studio. A lot of kids, teens especially, simply quit. It was either too expensive or going to another studio wasn’t worth it.
I don’t want that to happen to any more of my students.
That ‘s why I started Attitude Dance Project.
I may have done things that my bosses or old dance team Captains didn’t like–been told I have an attitude–but it was all because I wasn’t satisfied with standing still when I knew I could do more and do it well.
Although the word conjures up negativity, to me, “attitude” is resilience and confidence. It questions authority and challenges the status quo.
Sometimes you need an attitude to get things done.
