Before I became a mother, I was not childless. I was surrounded by children, and I loved them with my whole heart. I was a dance teacher, with handfuls of little dancers who I taught and danced alongside. After years of dancing for myself and learning how to teach the techniques I was using everyday, I found a greater love for seeing a young child move with pure innocence. Something magical happens when a young child moves, not because they are told to, or because they are mirroring another, but simply because they have something inside them that can’t help but materialize. It is an abstract thing, but as perceptible as they are. They move in ways that are as distinct as they are. I became someone who gave these small souls, who are typically given some shape to stand on and arbitrary movement to mimic, a vocabulary to create their own sonnets and epics. The abstraction that needed a means whereby, was their natural ability for creation. It was so fulfilling, helping these beautiful dancers and innate architects nurture their love for creativity.
When we moved away from the creative dance program I learned to teach at, the one Jane began her dancing at, and with no comparable instruction nearby, I decided it was time to revisit my love for teaching young dancers, my young dancer, how to create. In January I will be starting my own creative dance classes here in Michigan. I’m not sure if there will be an interest, or what their future will be, but I do know that even if it ends up being a class of me teaching my own daughter, there will be nothing more wonderful than being the one to teach her the joys of pure movement.