Everything I Learned about Life, I Learned in Dance Class Page 12
I would go over each day’s itinerary and break it down by activities and their costs. That way, a sealed envelope with the correct amount of money to cover all the estimated expenses for that day would accompany each dancer. In addition, I wanted every kid to have a hundred dollars in an emergency envelope, just in case those Katy Perry tickets come through. Remember—I’ve been taking kids on the road to attend competitions for more than twenty-five years. Many of my guidelines predate the debit cards and ATMs that make getting cash a lot easier today.
In those early days, before I learned better, I would end up giving twenty dollars to the valet who took the luggage out of the car and another twenty when the bellman came up to the room. I would always hear “Oh, I’m going to pay you back” or “Oh, we’ll pay the next time.” Then the next time comes and the kids are in class or at an audition, so I’m checking out of the hotel and I’m stuck paying again. So I’ve learned after all these years to collect money from the kids in advance, and then when I have to pay for something, I use their money, not mine. I hate asking the kids for money, but why am I paying for those kids when their dads are doctors and engineers and their moms are corporate vice presidents and lawyers? It’s bad enough I’m babysitting them for a whole week. What would it cost them to hire a nanny to do my job?
Eventually, I started giving the kids the job of paying for everything. I would say, “Sarah, you’re in charge of the tipping when we get to the hotel,” or “Amanda, you’re going to pay the taxi driver.” This way they take on the responsibility of collecting the money from everybody so that I don’t look like I’m taking money from poor innocent children. Plus they learn the value of a dollar, and don’t think that somebody else is always going to take care of paying for them all their lives.
Then there are those times when you have a kid who leaves her envelope in the dance bag and the dance bag is locked in the car. The car is in the parking garage and we’re at a restaurant hundreds of yards away. I had this one kid who never seemed to have any money with her when she needed it, and expected everyone else to pay her way. She danced with two beautiful girls—Koree and Allie, who lived in her neighborhood. They were tall and blond, and she was secretly envious of them because she was this little pip-squeak who was very talented, but a little too big for her britches. She was tiny, like four feet two or something, and they were five feet seven or eight. Their moms and dads were all friends socially.
One day when we were in New York City at some barbecue place, they got sick and tired of her because she didn’t have her money again. These two fourteen-year-olds, Koree and Allie, looked at me and said, “Let her starve.” They just wanted her to sit there and watch us all eat, because they were finished with her excuses and tired of their teammate always trying to scam a free meal.
There’s one in every crowd, and she learns from the best: her parents. She never has her money with her! She always has to bum money to buy a snack, to eat dinner after the competition, or to purchase a T-shirt. It gets real old real fast. She tries to hide it from me, and then when that kid goes to the bathroom, her friends can’t wait to tell me, “Brittany just asked us for money again.”
Money is something most parents just don’t teach their children about in general. Tipping, for example. Kids need to know the basics: for example, tip on the cost of the meal, not on cost plus tax; tip differently for a buffet than in a four-star restaurant. Most young people do not even realize that they have to tip. They look at the price of what they ordered—eighteen dollars for chicken Parmesan, a Coke for two-fifty—and hand me a twenty. “Isn’t that close enough?” they ask. There are ways to teach children these social skills before they embarrass themselves—and you!
Every once in a while parents will give their daughter money to take me out to dinner after a competition. And she’ll say, “Miss Abby, my parents gave me this money. Can I treat you to dinner?” And I say, “You don’t have to do that.” And she says, “Okay,” and spends that money on souvenirs. This is just negligent parenting. Know when to insist. Go to the maître d’ and arrange to pick up the check. Remember, if you raise your kids to be cheap, they will put you in the least expensive old folks’ home when the time comes (and it just might be coming sooner than you think!).
And don’t take what doesn’t belong to you. Like when one of the girls orders room service and it comes to the room while she’s still in the shower. By the time she gets out of the shower, somebody else in the room has eaten half the food. She didn’t pay for it, but she ate it. Or if we’re in a mall and there’s a candy store, each one of the girls goes in and buys candy. When we get back to the room that night, the girls leave their candy on the dresser and somebody else comes along and eats some. Then they end up having this big huge argument over candy. Didn’t you learn in kindergarten that if it’s not yours, don’t touch it? If parents would send enough money with their kids, then everyone would have money for candy and not be tempted to sample someone else’s.
If you borrow something, put it back where it belongs. Don’t ask somebody if you can use her hair spray or her eyelash glue and then empty the can or leave the lid off the eyelash glue so it dries out. This just makes you look like a “user,” and you should be thoughtful of others’ things. This kind of behavior demonstrates that you are selfish, and I have found that selfish plus sneaky equals cheap. Don’t be a cheapskate! Dance studios, dance competitions, and dancers are a microcosm of life, and I’m raising my students to be successful in dance as well as in life.
Dear Abby:
My daughter seems to get injured constantly in dance class. She falls and splits her lip. She pulls a muscle. She twists her knee. Is there any way to prevent at least some of these injuries?
When you look at a dance studio and inquire about lessons, you should also check out what substance their floors are made of. Perhaps your daughter is dancing on a surface not conducive to the art of dance. On the other hand, maybe your daughter just can’t keep up with the rest of the class. When one of these so-called injuries occurs, she gets to sit out on the sidelines and avoid the risk of embarrassment that comes with going across the floor one at a time and possibly being made fun of by the other kids because she can’t keep up. I would try to investigate and get to the bottom of all these injuries. It could be they are legit and your kid’s a klutz.
Abby
MEAN GIRL BEHAVIOR
Mean girl behavior begins when girls say mean things behind each other’s backs. A mean girl is somebody who plays people off against each other. A mean girl is somebody who’s sweet, nice, and polite in front of adults, in front of teachers, faculty, or coaches, but behind closed doors, she will throw you on the ground and step all over you. She will take your costume and hide it. She will take a brand-new soda that you just opened and spill it. She will take a bite of the doughnut that you have been saving on a napkin for after dance class and then throw it away. That’s a mean girl.
We have a lot of trouble with girls who forget their props and then take someone else’s. Like, for example, when I have each girl bring a chair as a prop for a routine. Sometimes when it comes to bigger items like this, I make each girl responsible for bringing one from the studio. I would have to rent a truck to get all the props to the competition if I didn’t have each dancer bring her own. When someone forgets to bring her chair or leaves her chair in Dad’s car and he’s two hundred miles away at a business conference, a mean girl will just grab someone else’s chair, and when the owner of that chair goes back to get it, she can’t find it. Mean girls are sneaky and they are liars, and rather than coming to me and saying, “I forgot my chair—what are we going to do?” they steal somebody else’s and pretend it’s theirs. Then if their mother can go get a chair and get it back to the competition in time, two minutes before they go out onstage, another chair magically appears.
I have seen the same thing happen with dance shoes. The mean girl has her shoes in the studio and takes them off to run through the routine. When she is finished
dancing for the day, she walks out of the studio—accidentally leaving her dance shoes behind. The next day at a competition three hours away from the studio on a Saturday night, the mean girl realizes she doesn’t have her dance shoes. Guess what? She puts on somebody else’s jazz shoes who wears the same size, because she knows it’s hard to tell whose shoes they are once they are on your feet. How would anyone know they weren’t your shoes? A lot of sneaky, dishonest stuff like that happens among girls. It’s not always that the mean girl is trying to sabotage those who have their acts together. It’s just that she’s trying to save her own ass. This poor behavior stems from forgetfulness, immaturity, a lack of trust, and of course poor parenting skills.
* * *
ABBY’S ULTIMATE ADVICE
Three Key Points to Remember
1.Remember: when there’s a crown on your head, somebody’s watching.
2.Don’t interrupt the instructor when she’s teaching—this goes for students and for moms alike!
3.Teach your children the value of money and the importance of paying their own way. Make sure they always have money in their pockets.
* * *
SIXTH POSITION
EFFACÉ
Second Place Is the First One to Lose
The most effective way to do it is to do it.
—Amelia Earhart
BY “SECOND PLACE IS THE FIRST ONE TO LOSE,” I mean you are the biggest loser on that stage. You are the defeated man on the track. You are the horse, but you’re not in the winner’s circle. If a thousand people show up, somebody wins and somebody’s in second place. If you take nine hundred and ninety-eight people away from that and two people show up, somebody wins and somebody loses.
Sometimes it is better to be third than to be second, and often they’ll use the term first runner-up. You have the winner and you have the first runner-up. That is the worst place to be, because you came so close, but you lost and you didn’t get the glory. You put the work in and did everything right, but you got beat. If you get third place, you’re like “Woo-hoo, I placed! I got something.” In the Olympics, you’re still out there on the podium. You still have a medal around your neck.
The irony is that the first runner-up is the person who makes it into the Broadway show six months later, on television dancing in Smash, or dancing backup for Kanye West. In the case of dance competitions, odds are you’ll never hear from the winner again. Could this entire endeavor have been orchestrated for them? It was all about just winning first place, and it was orchestrated for them, and they’re never going to be anything else.
There’s a nonprofit organization, which shall remain nameless but certainly not faceless, that I used to belong to and it’s run by volunteers. Newsflash: if people are willing to volunteer their time and energy, there’s something in it for them. When somebody volunteers to run the competition for this organization, they take on a great responsibility. This position is all-consuming. They must secure a theater, convince others to help run the show, and among many other responsibilities find five suitable judges who don’t know any of the contestants or teachers involved. Good luck with that! In all my years of attending, the judges know everybody. More than likely this organizer will ask five of her friends to judge.
For example, one judge has a student in one age division of the competition, so the person who’s running that section of the competition has her judge a different division from her own student’s of course. But then a buddy of hers ends up judging that student’s age division, and she wins. It’s kind of like “You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.” The whole organization is very incestuous. Now, I’ve had my fair share of prestigious winners. Just to set the record straight, I have been the proud teacher of Petite Miss Dance of America, Junior Miss Dance of America, Teen Miss Dance of America, Teen Mister Dance of America, Miss Dance of America, and Mister Dance of America. These victories have not come easily. These dancers were the lucky ones who overcame all those hoping they wouldn’t win. I’ve had so many kids screwed over who should have won but didn’t. Their scores are so high and they’re so talented that the judges can’t have them place fourth or fifth because that would be too obvious. So they place these kids high, but they’re careful with tenths of a point to make sure that kid doesn’t win first place but instead wins first runner-up. I have lots of first runners-up who have gone on to surpass the titleholders and have lucrative careers as successful, employable dancers. They’re like dandelions; you can’t keep them down.
The directors in charge would never cheat mathematically, but among other things they do create the lineups, which is the order in which dancers perform their routines for the competition. For example, if there are thirty girls competing, they would put their friend’s girl last to give her the leg up on the competition. By controlling the lineup, you can control when this dancer performs and who she follows. Your number also comes into play during audition classes. Where you stand and who you’re with plays an important part of any title competition. For example, to give a contestant an advantage, you could put her in numerical order right after somebody who you know is pretty weak. All of these things come into play during a competition.
Sure, there’s no I in team, but there is an M and an E. And sometimes it’s all about me. I want my top students to represent the Abby Lee Dance Company onstage whenever possible. Winning is important because it lets you know you’re on the right track and it bestows confidence. But there’s a lot that goes into winning that doesn’t happen on the stage. Most of all, it’s the work that went into the win. The will that went into the win.
I preach to my students over and over. When it comes time for kids to enter the big competitions, or what we refer to as “titles,” some bow out gracefully. They are the real losers. I don’t know whether they are lazy or scared to death. They say they don’t need all the hoopla to prove themselves as great dancers. When it’s all over, it’s not the crown, the banner, and the trophy that make you a champion but the hours of training you put in preparing for the win. When we look back, the crown has lost a few stones, the banner is frayed, and the trophy is tarnished, but your dedication will continue to pay off forever.
There are a lot of little secrets to winning that are not exactly secrets. Common sense is not a secret, but if I could put it in a bottle and sell it, I’d be a very rich woman. For starters, your child will learn by example; it’s important to study other dancers. We went to one competition that was in a gymnasium, and our star dancer wore her jazz shoes out onto that slick wood floor. She tried to do an aerial front walkover but got nervous midair and changed her mind to execute a diving front walkover instead. When she planted her foot, it slid right out from under her and she fell on her hip. Our next dancer took her shoes off and went barefoot. It’s not what she planned, but she learned from another’s mistake. And once your kid wins, everyone will be watching for her to make a mistake. As I tell my students, it’s hard to get to the top of the pyramid, but it’s even tougher to stay there.
On the flip side, if you see your child struggling—and I don’t mean working hard, I mean struggling—it may be time to ask yourself if she or he is in the right place. Are you pushing her into something she doesn’t really want or is unable to do? Is he really an AP student, talented dancer, or star athlete?
Dear Abby:
My daughter is fourteen and wants to begin dance lessons. Besides very little to no dance experience, she isn’t flexible at all. What can she do to increase her flexibility? Or is it too late?
It is never too late to dance. Your fourteen-year-old daughter may be interested in auditioning for her high school musical or the school play, something that involves movement, so I think it would be great for her to take a jazz class or a ballet class or perhaps both. As far as flexibility goes, that’s free and you can certainly work on it at home. Get your butt down into that split, and if you can’t do it, blame yourself, because if you want to be in a split you’ll get in a split. It takes time an
d repetition, but you can do it.
Abby
BE TRUTHFUL WITH YOURSELF
When I say, “Be truthful with yourself,” I think about kids looking in the mirror and seeing something else. They think they’re good and that they’re working hard. They think they’re on the right foot when they’re not. Again, times have changed. Years ago, the girls in my senior company looked in the mirror and somebody knew when she was off and corrected herself. One kid would open her mouth to another person and ask her why she was late on the counts. They would bicker between each other about who was right and who was wrong. They used to look in the mirror and make the necessary corrections and help each other.
I think one out of one hundred children is born with natural rhythm. Another nine can learn it. The other ninety, oh well.
The kids used to step up and say, “I’m late. We just did the dance ten times and I was late ten times. What am I doing wrong? Can somebody go over it with me?” Kids today don’t do that. They just do it wrong time after time after time because they think they look good. Why wouldn’t they? Their moms are telling them how great they are every five seconds.
But if they aren’t in front of a mirror, sometimes I’ll ask, “Do you wear contacts?” If they say, “No, why?” I’ll say, “Because you’re seeing through rose-colored glass, and I don’t know where you found that rose-colored glass because it’s not in this room. Here there is only clear glass.” I want my dancers to open their eyes and see what’s really going on—be truthful with yourself! When I look in the mirror, I see a size six Prada. Unfortunately, nobody else does.
Natural ability has to be taken into account. The genes handed down from generation to generation count. Was your child born with the facility and body type for the future she desires? If this isn’t your child, evaluate her other talents. Some of my kids are great dancers and average students in school; they want to be stars for a living. I ask them, “Do you want to go to college or do you want to dance?” You have to assess your options. Is the choice between a scholarship to Harvard and dancing on a cruise ship? It’s a no-brainer—go to Harvard! Or is the choice between heading up Route 79 to a Pennsylvania state school with a boatload of student loans or starring on Broadway at the age of eighteen? Big difference.