What I Actually Want My Dancer to Get Out of a Dance Convention Experience

I don’t send my dancer to a convention expecting her to be the best dancer in the room.

Actually, I kind of want the opposite.

I want something to be hard.

I want a teacher to move faster than she’s used to. I want choreography that doesn’t immediately sit comfortably in her body. I want a style that makes her think.

I want her to look around at least once and realize, Oh. There is a whole lot of dancing happening outside of my regular classes.

Because for me, that’s a huge part of the value of a dance convention experience.

Of course I want her to have fun.

Of course it would be exciting to be recognized or receive a scholarship.

But that’s not really what I’m paying for.

I’m paying for the room.

I Want Her Outside of Her Normal Dance Bubble

Most of the season, dancers are learning from the same teachers, dancing beside many of the same kids and working within the expectations of their own studio.

That’s training. And there’s obviously value in consistency.

But you can also get very comfortable inside your own normal.

Then you walk into a convention ballroom.

Different teachers. Different choreography. Different terminology. Different expectations. Different dancers. Sometimes an entirely different way of moving.

And suddenly, nobody knows that you’re usually great at jazz. Nobody knows contemporary is your thing. Nobody knows you normally pick up choreography quickly.

You just have to take class.

I like that.

There’s something valuable about periodically putting dancers into an environment where nobody already knows what they can do.

I Want Something to Be Challenging

This might actually be one of the biggest things I want from convention.

Not impossible.

Not defeating.

But challenging.

There should be a moment when the teacher demonstrates something and my dancer thinks, Wait. What was that?

There should probably be a combination she absolutely does not have.

Beautiful.

Now what?

Does she stop dancing because she lost it?

Does she watch the dancers around her and jump back in?

Does she get frustrated?

Can she keep giving full effort when she knows she doesn’t look like the dancer beside her?

That matters to me.

Because in regular class, there’s usually another week. The teacher can slow something down. They can review it again. They know where their students tend to struggle.

Convention doesn’t always give you that luxury.

Sometimes the music comes on and you either have it, sort of have it, or absolutely do not have it.

And you still have to dance.

That’s a skill too.

A Dance Convention Experience Shows Us Things Regular Class Can’t

Convention is almost like taking your dancer’s training and putting it under different lighting.

Things show up.

Maybe picking up choreography quickly is harder than expected.

Maybe ballet vocabulary is stronger than you realized.

Maybe your dancer is relying on watching other dancers instead of confidently knowing the choreography.

Maybe a style they’ve barely trained in comes surprisingly naturally.

Maybe they’re technically capable of doing something but hesitate the second they aren’t completely sure of themselves.

And none of those observations have to become a crisis.

I think that’s where we can get ourselves into trouble as parents.

We notice one weakness and suddenly we’re mentally rearranging the entire weekly schedule and wondering if somebody has a private lesson available Tuesday.

It can just be information.

Okay. That’s something we can keep working on.

Beautiful. Moving on.

I Want Her to Learn How to Learn

This is probably bigger to me than learning any individual combination.

Convention classes move.

A teacher may have less than an hour with a room full of dancers. There isn’t necessarily time for the kind of repetition your dancer gets during weekly training.

The teacher demonstrates. They teach. They run it a few times.

Your dancer has to figure out how to function inside that pace.

Where should I stand so I can actually see?

How quickly can I pick up the pattern?

What do I do when I miss something?

Can I listen to a correction being given to someone else and apply it to myself?

Can I keep moving instead of mentally getting stuck on the step I missed 30 seconds ago?

Can I make a correction quickly?

Those skills matter long after that particular combination is forgotten.

I want her getting better at dancing.

But I also want her getting better at learning how to dance.

I Want Her to Experience Different Teachers

There are teachers who can say something one time and suddenly something your dancer has heard 37 times before makes sense.

Same correction.

Different words.

And somehow...

OH.

That’s one of my favorite things about exposing dancers to different teachers.

Every teacher isn’t going to connect with every dancer, either.

That’s useful too.

One teacher might be extremely technical. Another might pull performance out of your dancer in a completely different way. Someone else might teach so quickly that keeping up becomes the entire challenge.

And every once in a while, there’s a teacher who unlocks something.

A correction clicks.

A movement quality changes.

A dancer who normally hangs back suddenly performs.

Or your dancer walks out saying, “I LOVED that class.”

That’s what I want her exposed to.

I Want Her to Discover Something About Herself

Sometimes what happens after the class tells me more than what happened during it.

Which class does she immediately start talking about?

Which teacher does she remember?

What combination does she keep doing later?

What class surprised her?

What did she think was going to be easy that absolutely was not?

What did she think she wouldn’t like and ended up loving?

Those reactions tell me something.

Our kids spend so much time following the training path already in front of them that sometimes they don’t even know what else is out there.

Convention gives them little samples.

Oh, I LOVE this.

I want to do more of that.

That was really hard.

I want to get better at that.

Those are all useful things to learn.

I Want Her to See Dancers Who Are Better Than Her

I want my dancer in rooms with dancers who are better than she is.

Not because I want her spending the day comparing herself to everyone around her.

Because I want her to see what’s possible.

There’s a difference.

Sometimes one of the most inspiring things in the room isn’t even the choreographer. It’s another kid around your dancer’s age doing something your dancer didn’t realize kids their age could do.

That doesn’t have to mean:

I’m not good enough.

It can mean:

Wait. You can DO that?

The dance world is much bigger than one studio, one team, one city or one competition stage.

I want her to see that.

And Yes, Scholarships Are Exciting

I’m not going to pretend recognition doesn’t matter at all.

If your dancer gets called out in class, gets pulled into a group, receives a scholarship or is recognized by a teacher, that’s exciting.

Celebrate it.

But I don’t want my dancer measuring the entire convention by whether somebody called her number at the end of the day.

Because then a day filled with new teachers, new choreography, different styles, hundreds of dancers and probably at least one moment where she pushed through something difficult can somehow become:

I didn’t get anything.

Oh, but you did.

A scholarship is one possible outcome of convention.

It isn’t the only evidence that something valuable happened.

The Dance Convention Experience I Actually Want

Years from now, I highly doubt either of us will remember whether she stood in the third row or the seventh.

We’re definitely not going to remember every combination.

And I don’t need her leaving every convention with something around her neck to prove the day was worthwhile.

What I want from a dance convention experience is exposure.

Challenge.

A bigger view of dance than the one she sees every week.

A chance to struggle with something and keep going anyway.

A teacher who makes something click.

A style she didn’t know she’d love.

A dancer across the room who makes her realize what’s possible.

A moment that makes her think, I want to learn how to do THAT.

Because if she walks out tired, inspired, challenged and knowing just a little more about the dancer she wants to become?

Good.

That’s what I wanted her to get.