The Payoff...

I remember, as a kid, always knowing what I wanted to be. First it was a doctor, a policeman, or a firefighter. Then I fell in love with ice skating - though we never had the money to let me take lessons. I loved watching gymnastics and ice skating on tv. My parents like to tell people funny stories about how they signed me up for dance classes to improve my coordination - but my desire to ice skate and do gymnastics was as prominent a factor as my inability to walk over a clean floor without tripping (it is still true, however, that whenever I was intentionally performing a physical activity I was incredibly coordinated - whether it was parkour, or climbing a tree). And so they signed me up for my first dance class at the Virginia Tanner Creative Dance studio. They didn't have the money, and I was much too young to contribute, but they did it anyways. My first class was great. My teacher kept pointing out how high I jumped to the rest of the class, and said to jump that high. I remember going home and wondering why we needed a class for that because I did all of it on the playground in front of our apartment. In fact, I was slightly dissapointed to learn that the movement I had created to mimic skateboarders was, in fact, already created and given the name of a chasse which meant "to chase." There were many other such discoveries. I was, I believe, a choreographer before I was a dancer. My first few classes were fun. But I felt awkward among all the girls. All the girls who were so much better than me and had friends in the class. I was the new kid. And I was the only boy. People are surprised when I tell them that I hated my very first dance class. But I did. I started to dread Tuesdays and Thursdays when we met. I skipped too many classes. My parents would get unhappy and so I started finding other ways to get out of them. I'd hide my dance pants and spend forever trying to find them - and only succeed in "finding" them when I knew it was too late to go. My parents made me go anyways sometimes. I'd pretend to get sick. I'd do anything I could to get out of it. But I still had to go most of the time. I loved dancing. But I hated being so much worse than everyone else (I had yet to learn the lesson that to do anything well, you must first allow yourself to do it badly). I felt so awkward with all the girls, that going to dance was just humiliation.

So... How did I end up a dancer? It was simple. It happened in one single conversation. Miss Ashley, my teacher, decided to reach out and encourage me. She is my hero for that - taking the time to say something to a kid that she could have easily passed up and forgotten. It was the end of the session. My parents had already said that they wouldn't make me take the next session. At Virginia Tanner we were getting ready for our "big" end of summer performance (it had something crazy like a thousand or two kids) and then the session would be over, when she had a conversation with my parents inviting me to audition for the Childrens Dance Theater! She said I was very talented and that she really hoped I would do it. Looking back, it seems funny, but that was all I needed. Ashley had been my teacher, and I idolized her because of how beautiful she was when she danced. So if she said I was talented, then it was so - and I just hadn't known it before. Dance was now something I was allowed to love. And so I did. I also auditioned. I remember the audition in vivid detail. So vividly that I can tell you about the movement game we played that was based on leap frog. You had a partner and had to repeat their last movement, and then do your own to get past them. They would, in turn, repeat your last movement, and do their own. Thus, you would do a leap frog dance around the room. I was partnered with a boy who was the younger sibbling of another dancer who would become my hero (Graham Brown). I can only recall the boys name sometimes - though I spent alot more time with him and his family over the years - especially Ginger, his sister - and should remember it - but I recall in crisp detail almost all of our duet around the studio.

I was accepted into CDT. I was ungainly. Uncoordinated. Unimaginative. Had bad technique. And was not creative enough. I was that way for most of my life at CDT as I remember it. I had a very hard time in my class. The other boys there were accepted easily for the most part. But I always felt like an outsider. Not that it really was the classes fault. They had been together for years. But it was difficult for me. Some of them actively disliked me. A certain girl, in fact, cornered me after class one day and told me that everyone hated me and that I should quit CDT. But I loved dance. So I stayed. I never completely lost my discomfort around my class. I was never myself in that group. I always felt far too awkward. It simply didn't work well. But that's ok. I got better. And I loved them because, quite simply, I got to dance with them. And in time, I made other friends. Friends like Josie Marine and Kiran Matthews - both of whom I still love with my whole soul. There were teachers as well, whom I believe God knew that I needed. Joni Urri-Wilson took me under her wing immediately. From her I learned to dance roots and wings - and gave me roots and wings as
well. I learned how to teach creative movement. From her I learned about juggling a million things at once and still taking time for the student that really needs you. She taught me technique. And she listened to my dreams and pains. She was, for many years, one of my greatest pillars of support. She still guides me, though she doesn't know it. I can't teach without relying on what she taught me first. The next big one was Misha Bergman. I don't know if she ever really liked me all that much to be honest - which makes me laugh as I type because of how much she effected me for good. I had done improv before and loved it, but she turned every class into a game - while still requiring me to start acting a little bit more my age than I did at times. It was here that my love for dance was sealed. It was in her class that my creativity was unlocked more than anywhere else. It was there that I started to appreciate those people who required a certain professional attitude. Then I got Tina... Tina Misaka was already my hero - and I don't know if I could really ever explain all that she taught me. If Joni taught me about love and perseverance, and Misha taught me about creativity, then Tina taught me about respect, responsibility, and quiet passion. She also gave one of the best technique classes you could find, and was an incredible choreographer.

So, I was taken care of. But CDT was still hard for me. My awkwardness caused a certain amount of pain. I went through a phase where I came home from every class and cried. But I couldn't quit. Dancing was in my blood now. I lived for it. So I kept going. I kept dancing in walmart, and the parking lot. I danced with Bene Arnold (who became another important mentor). I danced with RDT. I danced with Ballet West. I danced with Papa Chuck. I danced and danced and danced. Even when it was hard. Even when the boys were competitive and the girls were mean. Even when I was told I would be given a certain part and then had it taken away. Even when we didn't have enough money - which was most of the time. I worked to help pay for it (even when I could only get a paper route). My family made sacrifices for me. Teachers at CDT even helped at times. I helped teach classes at CDT and VT for most of my life there. I stayed in homeschool so that I could have the time. I passed up JROTC, though I wanted to do it, so that I could maintain my dancing. I passed up the spot I was offered in HS football because it was too time consuming. I didn't run for an OA Lodge VC position so that I would have the time to dance.

And so my life has been... But with all the work, and all the sacrifices from so many people, it turns out there is a huge payoff. I am able to have a life doing the thing which I so love. I dance. I choreograph. And I dance more. Every day, lately, new opportunities develop. I'm booked with various things for a year. I have more things developing. Not only that but I am the person who can't ask for much else in my life. I am who I am, in large part, because of those family members, and friends, and teachers who have worked so hard to give me the blessings which I enjoy so abundantly now. I am grateful. I am happy. I love the life which I lead. I love dance more than I ever have. I am blessed. Thanks go to God, and to all of you who have given me all that I have now, and helped me to become the person that I am right now!

Move and move again
Sean