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

  Sometimes you and a studio don’t see eye to eye. It happens. You want to make a graceful exit or they’ll show you the door. Either way, it’s not fun. There is no nice way to throw a kid out. I’ve only physically thrown one kid out in all my years of teaching. She was a short tenth grader who was vehemently jealous of Heather Snyder, a promising student in her class. Heather was and still is a gorgeous, talented dancer who looks an awful lot like Cindy Crawford. She became Miss Dance of Pennsylvania her senior year, then went on to be first runner-up at the Nationals in New York City. There was a producer in the audience who needed one more girl for the first national tour of The Will Rogers Follies. He messengered a contract over to the Marriott Marquis the next morning, and Heather’s career began.

  Heather never said a nasty word to anyone, but this girl was a potty mouth and called her the F word one day in class. I lost it. Nobody used to speak that way in my studio. I made her leave the premises immediately! Now remember—this was before there were cell phones, so the kid couldn’t even call her parents for a ride! She had to wait outside the building in the cold. I don’t know how she got home. She never took another dance class from me, and guess what she became? A dance teacher and a born-again studio owner! God help us all . . .

  HOW TO TAKE ORDERS, HOW TO GIVE ORDERS, AND HOW TO ORDER ROOM SERVICE

  by Mark Myars

  How did I learn to take orders? Well, that’s easy . . . Abby Lee was my dance teacher. Enough said, right? I learned how to give orders when Abby asked me to be a class assistant and eventually an instructor at the studio. But it’s how I learned to order room service that I’ll cherish the most.

  During my teenage summers, the senior company at the Abby Lee Dance Company would travel with Abby to New York City to attend national conventions and compete in national competitions. If you have ever been to Penn Hills, PA, you know that we are a hardworking, middle-class people, and if you have ever vacationed in the Big Apple, you know that New York hotels are outrageously priced. (Well, everything in New York is for that matter.) There were times when we would attend several conventions in one three-week stay, hopping from the Marriott Marquis to the Grand Hyatt to the Waldorf Astoria. How could we afford all of this? Well, we would cram ourselves, our dance bags, the girls’ Caboodles, and our overpacked luggage and costumes into New York’s tiny hotel rooms . . . and by “we” I mean up to twelve of us! We slept three to a bed; there were endless cots. We did whatever we had to do to make us all fit and stay under budget! We had rules to not get caught: Never take the elevator at the same time. Never make eye contact with hotel staff. And it was most imperative to leave the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the door at all times.

  Now this may sound like complete mayhem to some, but we were teenagers from the ’Burgh in New York City! We took days of endless dance classes together. We taped one another’s bloodied toes. We sweat with and on one another. We cheered one another to victory and took comfort in one another after defeat. We were inspired by Broadway! We ate at all the cool New York eateries (you know, like Hard Rock Cafe?). One night in our cramped room, after we’d packed up to move to the next hotel and she had finished dyeing her roots, Abby taught us how to order room service.

  I have since moved to New York, and I’ve had a career full of ups and downs. Right now I am at a very “up” point. My dance supervising job has me traveling throughout the United States and around the world. I have had opportunities I never dreamed I could! However, when I’m in my hotel room biting into a cheeseburger that I just ordered from room service, I am at my proudest. I’m reminded of how Abby and the senior company helped me to get where I am today. I smile at the thought of all the memories we created together. Then I look around my hotel room and sigh, relieved that there are no Caboodles in sight.

  Mark Myars is currently an associate choreographer on the Broadway musical If/Then. He is also the dance supervisor of Wicked’s Broadway cast, the North American touring companies, and the Japanese and Australian companies. He was the assistant choreographer of Wicked’s first national U.S. tour and of the productions in Chicago, Los Angeles, West End, Germany, Japan, and Australia. Mark has been seen on Broadway in Footloose (Original Dance Captain), Wicked (Original Dance Captain), 9 to 5: The Musical (Original Dance Captain), West Side Story (Swing), and Come Fly Away (as “Marty”), as well as in the off-Broadway hit Silence! The Musical (as “Dream Hannibal”). Recently, he played “Mike” in Paper Mill Playhouse’s acclaimed production of A Chorus Line, and he can be seen in the films Center Stage, The Producers, Across the Universe, Rock of Ages, and most recently Winter’s Tale.

  ABBY’S FAVORITES

  There’s More Than Just Maddie

  •Favorite quote: “I don’t know the key to success, but the key to failure is trying to please everyone else.” —Bill Cosby

  •Favorite inspirational saying: “Winning isn’t everything, it’s the only thing.”—Henry Russell Sanders

  •Favorite epitaph: “Will it matter that I was?”

  •Favorite dance: Old-school lyrical.

  •Favorite Broadway show: It’s a five-way tie. The Abby goes to . . .

  •Footloose (a personal favorite because my first student to grace the Broadway stage was in the original cast).

  •Priscilla Queen of the Desert (I absolutely love the costuming!).

  •Wicked (because of my personal connection to Wayne Cilento).

  •Any Fosse show—because it’s a Fosse show! (usually with John Kander).

  •Whoopi Goldberg on Broadway (a show that changed my life—it showed me just how powerful theater can be, and how I must choreograph poignant messages and controversial subject matter if I hope to make a difference in the world of dance competition).

  •Favorite song: “Heard It from a Friend” by REO Speedwagon.

  •Favorite film: The Way We Were.

  •Favorite color: Like my mother I could never pick a favorite color, but I do have a great eye for color—I can look at an article of clothing, note the color, go to Dillard’s, and pick out twenty other things that match exactly. I’m good at that. Although I feel most confident in black, I guess my favorite color would have to be either red or hot pink.

  •Favorite meal: Yum! I have lots of these. Chicken Parmesan with a side of fettuccini Alfredo at the Alcoma Country Club where I grew up. You got three pieces of chicken and the side on its own plate. I also enjoy a traditional turkey dinner with Stove Top stuffing, and I loved my mom’s chili—it was so good.

  I was a longtime member of Dance Masters of America (DMA) and I took it very seriously and dedicated my life to that organization, and they terminated my membership because of Dance Moms. When the show first started, it was very controversial because they filmed me making kids cry and focused on the negative instead of showing me in a positive light. They wanted that reality TV craziness, and all the dance teachers in the organization—who, by the way, were secretly so jealous they couldn’t stand it—were up in arms because I was a part of their world and they were worried about how people would perceive dance instructors, assuming that all dance teachers were making their students cry.

  Come on, really? Most of us have seen Hell’s Kitchen on TV and we know that every chef isn’t like Gordon Ramsay. We all know that Gordon Ramsay isn’t really that mean in real life. It’s a TV show!

  DMA took up the best years of my life, or so I thought. I served on the board of DMA Pennsylvania Chapter #10 for four years, and as second vice president, first vice president, president, and naturally past president for two years in each of those offices. And I was an active member for many years after that. I didn’t want to fight DMA because I didn’t want to jeopardize my mother’s and my faculty’s memberships in the organization. I didn’t have time for more chaos in my life. I had already given them my time, my energy, my heart, and my talent, not to mention all those winners who represented the organization so well. So heeding my own advice, I just wanted to exit gracefully. The good news is I can st
ill state that I’m certified by test to teach by DMA. I received my twenty-five-year membership pin in 2011, when the show was filming its first six episodes. On the flip side, I’m proud to be a member of Dance Educators of America. Sometimes it’s just better to leave when you’re on top—they lost me, I didn’t lose them!

  Rarely do I have to tell a mom that her kid doesn’t have what it takes. People are usually smart enough to take off the rose-colored glasses and realize that their child is not cut out for a professional career in the performing arts. They tell me before I tell them. We attend numerous conventions and competitions throughout the dance season. If your kid is not the big winner, the scholarship recipient, the one the instructors are talking to after the event, chances are nobody noticed your kid.

  Clients leave my studio for two reasons and two reasons only: either they can’t cut the mustard or they can’t afford it. Usually if they can’t afford it, they don’t want to say they can’t afford it—they’re too embarrassed—so they make up other excuses to cover the financial issue, like they didn’t like their costumes, or they didn’t like their solos, or they didn’t win, or they’re always in the back of the group. Whatever they’re upset about at the time, they vocalize it and make sure everybody else knows about it too. In the meantime, we know at the front desk that their parents’ credit cards have bounced for the last three months and that the kids are embarrassed about it.

  When you walk in and take my class but you haven’t paid in a month, that’s called theft by deception. You are taking the materials, you are taking education, but you’re not paying. The tuition for my senior company, the most advanced group I have—which takes sixteen hours a week of dance instruction—is only $282.00 a month. If you break that down weekly, it’s only $70.50 a week or $4.40 for an hour of dance instruction. I’m cheaper than a babysitter, and our prices have not gone up since the TV show.

  Let’s face it, if your kid shows real promise, you’ll find the money somewhere, somehow. If you really can’t afford the lessons, the costumes, and the entry fees, and you realize that there are other children who are better, then say so. Don’t waste everyone’s time and give your kid an inferiority complex. Just mosey off into the sunset. Happy trails.

  * * *

  ABBY’S ULTIMATE ADVICE

  Three Key Points to Remember

  1.Every dancer must constantly step up her level of performance just to stay where she is. Everyone’s replaceable!

  2.Dance instructors take their work seriously, and so must dance students. We are not babysitters!

  3.Pull your own weight, be humble, and always do your very best.

  * * *

  THIRD POSITION

  À LA SECONDE

  Save Those Tears for Your Pillow

  Perfection is our goal, excellence will be tolerated.

  —J. Yahl

  YOU ONLY CRY WHEN you break a bone or somebody dies. That’s it. You think things are tough now? Just wait! Things are about to get a whole lot tougher. When Brooke, who happens to be the oldest girl in the group, wanted to leave rehearsal the day before a competition to go to a football game, and I said no, I could not believe it when she broke down in tears. There was the oldest girl on my team, looking like a six-year-old! Over a football game! News flash—the game will be played with or without you. If she thinks it’s hard to miss a fun event with her friends, wait until it’s time for her first Broadway rehearsal (LOL—we will be waiting a long time!), or she’s cramming for four college finals at the same time, or her employer has some sort of issue with the work she’s doing. Then she’ll really want to cry, but she won’t, because she’s here training with me.

  It’s important to never let them see you sweat. Never back down. Never crack under pressure. Never shake in front of a casting director. Never crumble in front of a teacher or coach. Sure, when someone is dying or you’re at a funeral, you should grieve. When you have a compound fracture and your arm is twisted, relocating your hand next to your elbow, then yeah, cry your eyes out!!! When you’re putting an ice pack on your ankle and your ankle is triple the size it’s supposed to be, weep to your heart’s content. Otherwise, save those tears for your pillow. (Pillowcases available at abbyleedancecompany.com!)

  Were you blessed with a child who’s happy and healthy? Does he speak when spoken to? Does she mind her manners? No? Then you must be the parents of that little brat having a temper tantrum in the middle of the mall, the monster running round and round under the clothing racks in the department store, or perhaps the poor loser onstage making the judges and everyone in the audience feel a whole lot of uncomfortable. You see people looking your way, you get the dirty looks, and you hear the snide remarks. You know exactly what they are thinking—bad parenting; weak authority; they’ve lost all control and the kid’s only six, just wait until he’s sixteen.

  If I come in contact with you at the department store in the mall, look out—I won’t whisper under my breath. I have no problem yelling at anybody’s kid—free of charge! Now, if you are part of my dance company and you step onstage for the award ceremony representing me, you better have a smile plastered on your face. I want to hear you say thank you from all the way out in my seat. You should have the common courtesy to mouth the words thank you to the judges down front. And you should always remember that you are still onstage! Everyone is still watching you. Keep your emotions in check. Did you think you were going to win? Did you think you had this one in the bag? Suddenly you find yourself accepting a second- or third-place plaque, then you hear the winner (your best friend’s name) announced!

  Your facial features change, you start to breathe a little heavier, and then the tears well up in your eyes. I’m watching, remember? Everyone’s watching! And now you turn on the emotion? Really? Where was all that passion and honesty in your performance? Why are you showing everyone your true colors now, when it doesn’t matter anymore?

  When you cry because you didn’t win, you look like a poor sport. You have to suck it up and put that smile back where it belongs. (A) You are representing me and the ALDC. (B) You may come across these judges again in your competition years—you don’t want them to remember the kid who didn’t win, but instead to remember the kid who should have won! I am training you to be a professional, so you must wait until you leave the venue, get back to your hotel room—alone with your mom—and then, and only then, sob into that pillow.

  Abby Lee Apparel

  “SAVE THOSE TEARS FOR YOUR PILLOW”

  Nobody wants to be around a crying child. Have you been to Disney World lately? There are more kids screaming their heads off at the “Happiest Place on Earth” than anywhere else on the planet. Nobody wants to go to dinner at an expensive restaurant only to have a baby wailing away at the next table, especially when you made the effort to hire a babysitter for your kids so you could enjoy a romantic evening out.

  Everybody wants to see a child happy and healthy. Then we have the nasty boo-hoo temper-tantrum crying, and certainly no one wants to see that. You see the looks when a child is acting out: people are calling the parents weak or idiots for putting up with the little brat who’s behaving this way.

  You have to remember that the girls on the show have a lot to deal with—being a member of the cast of Dance Moms is no piece of cake. The girls are rehearsing new numbers each week, listening to their moms yell at one another and watching them stab each other in the back—all while they’re trying to just be normal kids. Each handles it a different way. Paige and Brooke are on their phones doing God knows what. Nia has always got her nose in a book. Mackenzie is doing a backflip and giggling, while Kendall is doing her makeup. Chloe is conspiring about something with her mom, and Maddie is watching dancers on YouTube.

  The girls all have different ways of expressing their emotions. They have to learn how to deal with chaos because they have to use their feelings and emote during every performance. I’ve worked with all kinds of kids over the years: kids who are cold and who can’t exp
ress themselves, kids who hold everything in and use the stage to show it, kids who have faces that tell a story, and kids who look clueless.

  Then I have the kids who try to downplay their successes. We had that problem with Maddie in Season Three when she was winning and was very much downplaying each win. One time she received a crown when we hadn’t even realized she’d been entered in the finals. When they placed the crown on her head, she took it off and gave it to the kid next to her to play with. The owners of the competition were probably thinking, “Here’s Maddie, the star of a TV show, winning our competition, and we’ll get all these pictures of her in this crown and put it all over our website.” I can only imagine how they must have felt when she took off the crown and passed it off to someone next to her! Turns out she didn’t want the other kids in our group or their moms to be mad about another victory—not mad at her necessarily but angry with her mom. She was worried they would treat her mom badly. She later told me that all that was going on in her head while she was out there trying to dance. Not knowing this ahead of time, I flipped out on her: “There are two hundred kids sitting behind you that would have cut off their right arm to get that crown on their head.” And it’s true.

  My students participate in dance competitions because it’s their opportunity to get onstage and perform. Years ago they didn’t have competitions; they just put on shows. My mother, Maryen Lorrain McKay, owned and operated several dance studios in Miami, Florida, long before I was born. From 1945 through the early 1960s. Her students performed in the best hotels up and down South Beach. Her teen queens were employed as backup dancers for Sammy Davis Jr. and Dean Martin. Even her small-fries performed for the children who accompanied their parents to Florida for the winter holidays. They may have been paid in stuffed animals and toys, but they still got paid.