As dance teachers, when one of our students becomes injured we instinctually and immediately take great care to ensure they follow the necessary steps to recover quickly and do as the doctor ordered. We follow up with them throughout the healing process and can recognize when they are pushing themselves too hard. We also know the adjustments we need to make for them in class so that they come back stronger than before their injury; ensuring they stay healthy at all costs. As any great parent also does when their child falls ill, we switch into that mode of being the protector and teaching them to take care of their bodies, their well-being and their overall general health. We also take into consideration their frustration of having to sit out and take notes and not being able to move with the others until the doctor signs off, so they don't relapse. But, we insist and follow through on doctor's orders until then despite their begging and pleading they are fine way before the appropriate amount of time has gone by.
What happens though when the teacher or choreographer is the one who is injured? You know, the one who is up there and supposed to be the leader, the creative guru that the dancers are looking at waiting for instruction and inspiration? What do you do when it's you that is incapacitated and have to follow the "do what I say and do what I do" model?
The reason I bring this up is I've had a lot of time over the past few months to think about this. As the tables turned on me this winter due to an accidental slip on the stairs, there it was; two fractures in my foot, a very bad sprain and having to wear a boot for over 2 months. Now what would I do? The first thought that races through your head is, "this can't be happening, I have to teach or I'll have no income coming in." And for every independently contracted teacher that is a huge fear. But luckily, I am employed by studio directors who are artists and performers also and "get it." Things happen and we are just as human and just as much dancers and athletes like our students. It can happen to anyone.
The next thing that came to mind was, "How am I going to effectively do this and still teach a good class?" The thought of forcefully having to sit with my foot elevated and teach from a chair, (albeit old school style,) made me in some way feel like I would be misconstrued as lazy or the kids (or lingering studio parents peeking in) would think I wasn't "present" or teaching as good a class had I not been injured. Would my dancers suffer because of my injury? How would I relay choreography notes and walk around to give tactile correction? How would I do the simple things like walk back and forth to look for music on my IPOD? How would I articulate verbal feedback and direction without the visuals? To be perfectly honest, I was not a good patient in the beginning. I'm not going to lie. I had an abundance of numbers that had to be set, had no qualms about just "marking" through things and was certainly not following doctor's orders. So, was I better off barreling through to prove to my students that I was a tough dancer that can manage through the pain and was committed to making sure they received a good class, or was I setting the worst possible example and being a hypocrite after all that I have taught them over the years during their own injury cases? I had to really think about this…and think about it…and think about it. After I consistently had my younger students reporting back (or as I teased them, "tattling on Ms. Jessie") to the other teachers when I wasn't doing as I should, or so much as getting up to take an ice pack off my foot, I realized they worried for my well being as much as I worried for theirs and the shift of thought commenced. Consequently, what I learned about my abilities as a teacher was one of the best lessons I could have given, to myself. It transformed my approach and actually made me a better teacher for it.
When one is forced to use their mind and their words solely to relay information in a very physical and artistic field, you have to discover ways you might not ever have dreamed of; had you just been able to demonstrate. It never occurred to me that I could become rote and teach on autopilot; especially when I preach to my dancers about always being "mindful" and "present" in the space they are at. What I did discover was I became clearer in my delivery, I spoke slower and I really had to think about imagery and analogies to get my ideas across. Suddenly, my warm-ups and choreography were actually more intricate and challenging. My sensitivity to musicality and rhythm sharpened as well as my vision to seeing mistakes and things that needed to be cleaned in choreography. I even became creative in a different way. Having to change up my choreographic process and envision things in my head, rather than working it out in the studio. I had to let the dancers figure it out in their bodies as opposed to seeing it on mine. And, the results were some innovative works that I was really proud of this year; by dancers who were younger and older, beginner and advanced. I started to notice how each level was able to follow me in this "new" and "adapted" way and rose to the challenge. They were also forced to really listen and focus, and they did. I had students coming up to me telling me how challenging and different classes had been and how they recognized a shift in the material too. And they loved it.
At the end of this journey, while everyone was thrilled to see me out of the boot and slowly getting back to my old self, I took some lessons with me along the way. While I am thrilled to be moving again and would never choose to sit and teach all of my classes, in hindsight, I do think this injury happened for a reason. I now take all these new teaching tools I've acquired with me and can put them in my "bag of tricks." Through all the physical limitation, I found a way to give my teaching and choreography a breath of fresh air and transformed myself into a new artist as well. The experience was indeed a wakeup call and in some way became a source of inspiration for me. I also learned what it means to really have no choice but to take care of yourself so that you can take of others.
