Everything I Learned about Life, I Learned in Dance Class Read online

  DEDICATION

  This book is dedicated in loving memory to Maryen L. Miller,

  George L. Miller, and Broadway Baby too

  CONTENTS

  DEDICATION

  FOREWORD by Maddie Ziegler

  OVERTURE

  OPENING NUMBER

  Welcome to Abby’s World

  FIRST POSITION: Croisé Devant

  All’s Fair in Dance and War

  SECOND POSITION: À la Quatrième Devant

  Everyone’s Replaceable

  THIRD POSITION: À la Seconde

  Save Those Tears for Your Pillow

  FOURTH POSITION: Épaulé

  Mother Doesn’t Always Know Best

  FIFTH POSITION: Écarté

  When There’s a Crown on Your Head, Someone’s Always Watching

  SIXTH POSITION: Effacé

  Second Place Is the First One to Lose

  SEVENTH POSITION: À la Quatrième Derrière

  Contracts Aren’t Meant to Be Broken

  EIGHTH POSITION: Croisé Derrière

  It Takes Fifteen Years to Make an Overnight Success

  GRANDE FINALE

  You’re Only as Good as Your Last Performance

  PHOTO SECTION

  STANDING OVATION

  Acknowledgments

  CURTAIN CALL

  About Abby Lee Miller

  COPYRIGHT

  ABOUT THE PUBLISHER

  FOREWORD

  I wish you could all dance in my shoes for a day—then you would know the real Abby Lee!

  Believe it or not, Abby and I are a lot alike. How, you ask? Well, we both decided at a very young age exactly what we wanted to do with our lives. Abby just knew she would be a famous dance teacher, and nothing was going to get in her way—especially not people telling her that she wasn’t good enough or wasn’t old enough. Who can say that they have been an award-winning choreographer since the age of fourteen? Abby Lee Miller, that’s who! Her résumé, longer than long, shows just how many students she has successfully prepared to achieve their goals. Abby will go to the end of the earth to help “her kids” fulfill their dreams while living her own dream at the very same time.

  Abby has prepared me completely for the professional dance world—and I’m only eleven years old! She is the best at what she does. Abby has taught me proper technique, the value of hard work, and how to learn detailed choreography quickly. She taught me how to really hear the music and then present the story of my dance routine with my emotions. I don’t dance like no one is watching; I dance like everyone is watching!

  Dancers always ask me how I learned to leap so high or turn so fast. Is it practice or talent or technique? It is hard to explain how Abby not only teaches her students the how but also the why, what, where, and the when. This is what makes Abby so good at what she does—every breath, every note, every movement, every glance—they all create a story. Every single thing matters.

  And yes, everyone is replaceable. Because if you aren’t willing to give 100 percent, then why should your dance teacher? After my performances, she is the first person I look for. She tells me what was good and what I still need to work on. I’m not afraid of her critique; I need to hear the truth. Her expertise is exactly what has made me the dancer that I am today.

  Because of Abby, I am already living my dream. I cannot wait to see what tomorrow brings, and for that I’m forever grateful to my fairy godmother, Abby Lee Miller!

  You will learn so much more about Abby in this book, and I know you will fall in love with her too!

  MADDIE ZIEGLER

  OVERTURE

  IS IT EVER GOING to be good enough for me?

  Probably not.

  I’m Abby Lee Miller, creative director, chief choreographer, and founder of the Abby Lee Dance Company. You may know me from the hit TV shows Dance Moms and Abby’s Ultimate Dance Competition, where I showcase my passionate, unapologetic, and tough-as-nails teaching style. Some people think I’m too hard on my students, but no one argues with my results. My kids shine, my teams win, and my alumni go on to Broadway careers. I’m not going to apologize for helping kids achieve more than they ever dreamed possible. My dreams for them are often bigger than the dreams they have for themselves. The kids I take under my wing know they’re not in for an easy ride. That makes some moms a little uncomfortable, and I often get an earful. But that’s okay; I can take it. I’ve been called a lot worse by a lot better people.

  Say what you want about me, I get the job done. That job is helping young people excel and get the most out of life—whatever aspirations or ambitions they have. I don’t believe in the word impossible. I make stars; it’s what I do. If you want to know how to help your child be the favorite or shine in the spotlight, read on. My advice is not for the weak or meek or even the ambivalent. You have to want it 110 percent. You have to eat, sleep, and breathe your passion, and fight for perfection every step of the way. I expect a lot from the children I work with. I don’t settle for second best, nor do I allow them to settle for less. If you can’t cut the mustard, you’re gone.

  If you watch my shows, you know there are a lot of “Abbyisms.” That’s what I call my philosophies on hard work, competition, and life in general. All my kids know them like the backs of their hands and they take them to heart. They know it’s not just talk—it’s the rules we live by. From figuring out what you do well, to applying yourself, to laying the groundwork for an exciting career, my rules can help you achieve optimal results in the dance studio and beyond. So many parents and kids have asked me to share them that I decided it was high time I explained how and why my methods work. Why not write it all down in the form of a book? Of course I’ll dish the dirt that my Dance Moms fans are eager to hear, and even get some of my illustrious alums to share their success stories and what was it like to get their first big break (starring roles on Broadway and in television and films). Right out of (dancing) school? You bet! Many have gone from living in the Pitts to a house in the Hamptons!

  So what makes me an expert?

  Dancing and competing are in my blood. I’ve been teaching dance, choreographing, and winning competitions since I was fourteen years old. I was there in the beginning when dance competitions were just starting, and I jumped on board. I founded the Abby Lee Dance Company in 1980 with the sole goal of creating champions, and I’ve been doing so ever since. I know that parents want the very best for their children, and I’m here to tell you that training starts as early as a toddler can walk into the studio. Every step in a child’s life is an opportunity to learn, to grow, and to achieve.

  My rules apply to any activity, not just dance—from the soccer field to the swimming pool to the classroom. I don’t believe in coddling kids. Coddling is not loving; it’s indulging and overprotecting. A loving parent knows when and where to be firm and how to encourage and coax the best out of her kid. Buffer your child from the real world and she won’t learn how to deal with it. Allow your child to be lazy, bratty, or a crybaby, and you’ll wind up with an irresponsible, complaining, helpless adult who needs a loan or a spare room in your house for the next few years.

  You’ve probably heard a lot of talk about “helicopter parenting”—moms and dads who hover around, trying to shield their children from failure, pain, or disappointment. Well, guess what? You’re also preventing them from achieving any kind of greatness. Kids who are constantly sheltered from criticism and praised for a mediocre performance will stop working hard. Why should they have to? They’re getting applause anyway. The parents’ job is to raise children to survive without them—period. Teach a kid to s
tand on her own two feet—to respect her peers and her teachers and to push herself constantly to be better, stronger, and smarter—and you’ve done your job. Anything less than that, I consider a parenting failure.

  Whenever a kid screws up, I know there’s always a dance mom to blame.

  I tell moms when they walk through the door of my studio for the first time that if you want someone to hold your hand, you’ve come to the wrong place. I expect parents to learn right along with their children, which is why you’ll find “Are You Mom Enough?” quizzes in the book just for you. In case you need a quick reminder or refresher course now and then, there’s “Abby’s Ultimate Advice” at the end of each chapter, outlining the key steps you need to take at every age and stage of your child’s development.

  I always tell my students, “Save those tears for your pillow”—and I mean it. Whining, wallowing, wimping out—I don’t stand for it. (Moms, that goes for you too!) If you’re not prepared to give me 110 percent, there’s the door. Don’t let it hit your derrière on the way out.

  But if you are willing to work, sacrifice, and believe, the sky’s the limit. Some say, “Anything is possible.” I say, “Everything is possible!”

  OPENING NUMBER

  Welcome to Abby’s World

  Who the hell is this fourteen-year-old kid telling everyone what to do?

  Abby Lee Miller—the dance teacher’s daughter!

  WHEN I WAS ABOUT EIGHTEEN YEARS OLD, a fortune-teller read my aura at a charity event and asked me how many kids I had.

  “None,” I answered truthfully.

  “No—that can’t be,” she insisted. “I see hundreds and hundreds of children at your feet.”

  I thought at the time that she should probably invest in a new crystal ball—she was barking up the wrong tree. But now I realize she actually did catch a glimpse of my future, even if I couldn’t see that far down the road at the time. Yes, I have hundreds and hundreds of kids in my life and in my dance studio. And yes, in a lot of ways, I am a mom to each and every one of them. But did I ever see this coming? No way. I always tell my students that I dream bigger for them than I do for myself, and that’s the truth.

  I never wanted to be a dancer or a dance teacher. I just knew what I didn’t want to be. Even though my parents gave me all sorts of lessons, there was no way I was going to be a professional ski instructor, a career Girl Scout, a Roller Derby girl, or an Olympic ice-skater. I also knew—despite the fact that my mother was a dancer and owned several dance studios—that I did not want to be a performer. That’s hard work! You have to be on all the time. Your hair has to be done, your nails polished, your body in peak condition. But I always wanted to be on the creative side, and I always wanted to be my own boss.

  My mother, Maryen Lorrain Miller (maiden name McKay), was a fifty-year member of Dance Masters of America, and she owned seven dance studios in Miami before she married my dad and had me. I was born in 1965. Life was grand, business was booming, and women wore high heels with their aprons. They had a martini waiting for their husbands when they got home from work. After I was born, my mom was going to become one of these “domestic engineers.” Maryen was intent on staying at home with her brand-new bundle of joy.

  That’s me: Abby Lee.

  I was named after the most beautiful girl my dad ever dated (needless to say, Abigale was not my mother’s name). My mom and dad were thirty-six when they got married and thirty-eight when they had me. They purchased a model home in the suburbs and joined the country club. Things were going great for a few months until my mother accidently let me roll out of my infant carrier and fall off the dining room table. At that moment it occurred to her that maybe she wasn’t cut out for this stay-at-home mom business after all.

  Truthfully, she missed her former life: “Swing and sway with Maryen McKay.” She taught hundreds of children in the South Florida area, from the Southwest section, to Perine, Coral Gables, the Northwest section, North Miami Beach, and South Beach. She pretty much had every square inch of the Miami area covered. Television shows, commercials, and movies were filmed in this sun-drenched, pink-and-turquoise celebrity vacation spot. She turned her students into professional, paid dancers—performing behind Dean Martin and Sammy Davis Jr. in the glamorous supper clubs at the Fontainebleau Hotel. My mom shopped at the upscale boutiques on Lincoln Road and drove a big Cadillac convertible. With her business thriving and more opportunities coming her way, she was too busy to think about a husband and family. The thing that changed her mind was her mother dying of what they thought to be breast cancer.

  My parents were born on the same street in a Pittsburgh neighborhood known as Greenfield. They flirted as preteens and dated on and off in high school. Then Maryen McKay moved along with her mom and dad to Miami, Florida. She supported her parents with money earned by teaching children how to dance. She created a livelihood out of her passion. Miss McKay was creative, knowledgeable, and very kind. Mrs. McKay managed the books, the costumes, and the inner workings of the studios. The two were as thick as thieves. Without her mom, my mom was lost.

  After the war was over, George L. “Salty” Miller would come all the way to South Florida, take my mom out on one date, then spend the rest of his time at Gulfstream Park racetrack. I’m convinced that’s where he left my inheritance! Back to the story: my dad came down to be at my mother’s side during this very difficult time—he brought a note that his own mother had left for him when she passed away a few months earlier. The note was a wish list for each of her six children. Her wish for Salty was that he would marry that nice Maryen McKay in Florida!

  So the event was planned and there was a spectacular wedding in Pittsburgh, plus another celebration down south. For some time, my mother commuted back and forth. If Dad thought she was going to sit on the front porch with rollers in her hair gossiping with the neighbors, he had another think coming! Her self-imposed retirement only lasted a few months (thanks to my falling off the dining room table). She then opened her first studio in Pittsburgh, in the little steel town where they both grew up.

  My dad was a yardmaster for the Monongahela Connecting Railroad in conjunction with the J&L Steel Corporation. He came home from work around 3:00 P.M. and my mom headed to her dance studio half an hour later. His job provided lots of security and excellent benefits. My friends got stocks and bonds for their birthdays. I got the Barbie Dream House, the boat, and the plane. Mom’s dance business took care of the trips to Disney World, my shoe addiction, and all the equipment needed for my ridiculous number of activities.

  I quickly became Daddy’s Little Girl. He was going to make sure I had everything he never had. He made my ponytails so tight my eyebrows rose up an inch higher. He dropped me off at Brownies, then picked me up from CCD (religion classes at the local Catholic church). The poor guy sat through countless painful roller-skating, ice-skating, and clarinet lessons. He broke down and bought the skis, and then even joined me on the slopes. He was probably most excited purchasing my cute spikes for Junior Golf at the club. From Memorial Day to Labor Day, Mr. Miller ran the swim team program at our pool. He did it all; he even had to take me to the Mother-Daughter Talk at school.

  So I was well-rounded: good at everything yet great at nothing. Did I dance? Yes, of course I did. But I went once a week with my friends from the neighborhood. My mom didn’t play favorites. She was kind and giving and wonderful to everyone who graced her presence. She never pushed me, nor put me front and center. She knew too many instructors who ruined their businesses by featuring their own daughters in every number. This turns people off! I didn’t even get to go down the mat first in tumbling class. Jeez!

  Despite all the exercise, I was sick a lot as a kid (maybe because my dad smoked unfiltered Camels? Hello, people!). I spent a lot of time at my pediatrician’s office, and I’ll never forget him: Dr. Mendel Silverman. I loved him, and I loved going once a week to get my allergy shot (I’m not a freak, the shot hurt like hell!). I loved Little’s Super Shoe Store (I
still shop there regularly), and the 31 Flavors ice cream place we visited often, and most of all S. W. Randall’s Toyes and Giftes (yes—that’s the way they spell it!). I knew I was a creative person way back then because all the grandiose traditional dollhouses on display did nothing for me. I had to have my dad get some guy at work to build me an A-frame ski house with Plexiglas see-through floors and a spiral staircase. I had to decorate it and furnish it to my exact taste and specifications. Control freak? Maybe. But it was the most amazing dollhouse anyone had ever seen.

  By middle school, I was accompanying my mom to regional dance conferences and seminars. She liked having company, and I liked getting out of school, socializing, and of course stopping on the way home to eat. We loved visiting the Cicci’s Dance Supply factory, a family-owned business that produces costumes for dance studios across the nation. I had the gift of gab, so I could easily find out how they made everything so beautifully. I would talk to the seamstresses, watch them use a ruffling machine, and pick up scraps to make headpieces or Barbie clothes. This was probably the moment when my passion for designing costumes was born.

  These day trips grew into holiday study trips and eventually summers attending back-to-back national dance conventions. I loved seeing different dance styles demonstrated by master instructors across the United States. Their innovative new takes on classic technique inspired me. When I was just thirteen, looking through the mail on the kitchen table for department store sale flyers, I saw that a dance competition was coming to my town.

  “Mom,” I asked, “how exactly does that work—and what can I win?” Not knowing much about these new-fangled types of dance competitions, my mom thought it was ridiculous for students to pay to compete. She was used to her students being paid to perform. Well, it turned out that Pittsburgh is a lot different from Miami Beach! Paying to be in dance competitions was our only way to get onstage and perform. I coerced my three girlfriends to enter into this adventure with me, and we were off and running—or should I say off and rolling! I choreographed my first trio—using skateboards. One girl was in red, another in blue, and the third in green. The competition was called Summer Dance Festival, and we won first place! We thought this was an amazing accomplishment. The prize was just a dinky little trophy, but the sense of pride was like no other!