How my brain works.

1. I think I'd like to go back to Switzerland to finish my credential.
2. Even with the scholarship, I can't justify the expenses for travel and living there.
3. Hey, maybe I could get a Fulbright to go there!
4. Oh, Switzerland is the one country that only funds people 35 and younger.
5. Hey, maybe I could get a Fulbright to another country, study there, and then take a train to Geneva for part of the time!
6. Oh, the other Fulbrights require a doctorate degree.
7. Hey, maybe I should get a doctorate degree!
8. Oh yeah, I can't get a Ph.D. in Music Ed. without a Masters in Ed., and mine's in performance.
9. Hey, maybe I could take the additional coursework for a Music Ed. degree, and then go for a Ph.D.!
10. Oh, I also need state teaching certification.
11. Hey, here's a program where I could get a Masters plus certification in only 10 months!
12. Oh, but it costs $20k plus it's full time, so I couldn't work.
13. Hey, maybe I could look into those teacher residencies again, where you can get certified while teaching and earning a salary!
14. But I don't want to go back to square one of music teaching; I'd rather learn something new in that case.
15. Hey, maybe I could get certified in Early Childhood Ed. and then I could create a new way to merge music and movement with math and language arts!
16. Oh, I'd have to have more general subjects in my college transcripts to get into Early Childhood Ed.
17. Hey, maybe I could take some general classes at the community college and then go into Early Childhood Ed!
18. That'd take years, though.
19. Hey, I can get certified in music through the residency program and then as soon as I complete it, take the Praxis exam for Early Childhood, and teach that instead!
20. But then I wouldn't have had any teacher-training or practice in general Early Childhood Ed, because it would all have been in music.
21. Hey, maybe I could take some classes in Early Childhood Ed. to learn more about approaches to reading and math and then create my brilliant music and movement approach to them.
22. Or, I could go to Switzerland and finish my credential.....

Back (to reality)

It's been so long I forgot my password. It's also been so long I've forgotten family members, eight hours' sleep, and how the washing machine works (which explains why I've been dressing weird).

Between my last post and this one, I lived the life chapter, "Modern Dance School Director." 

I resigned two days ago. 

I'd say "It didn't work out," but it really did, in many ways. The students, parents and teachers were wonderful, and I managed to accomplish a lot in a short period of time: I reworked the school handbook from embarrassing to presentable, and changed the schedule format from awkward to useful; set up wi-fi and online registration; fixed an error that was preventing emailed billing statements; launched new classes and grew the student companies; produced school car magnets, staff email addresses, business cards, class cards, a blog; revamped a tired show into a fresh one; donated hundreds of dollars in props, costumes and music; changed the e-newsletter from a long, one-column thing -- replete with huge bold fonts and exclamation points -- into something readable; and, my biggest source of pride, convinced families who'd been on the verge of leaving to stay... and made them happy.

BUT, there's always a but. You just never know what form the "but" will take. 

I'll really miss it, BUT... in the end, once a chapter is finished, all you can do is turn the page.

My New Job

“You can’t always get what you want

But if you try sometimes, you just might find

You get what you need.” 

– Jagger & Richards (who may or may not have gotten what they need)

What I wanted when I was young was to work as a performing dancer. I had lots of encouragement from teachers, and in fact I had everything it took, except being completely healthy.  Besides, my piano kept calling to me.

What I wanted next was to work in music academia, just like my Dad. But that’s for people who go in one direction, not two (or more). How could I just be a musician, without dance? It’s all the same thing, to me.

Next I wanted to make my own way, taking roads less traveled to combine music and dance.  I know that thoughtful movement makes musicians better musicians, and getting music in their bodies makes dancers better dancers.

Along the way, dance kept coming back to me.

For instance, I’ve choreographed the theory of dark matter in the universe for a Unitarian Church, “The King and I” for a high school, and “Iphegenia at Aulis” for a Classical Theatre group in Georgetown. I’ve danced “The Arabian” in Nutcracker, a cha-cha for the Unitarians, and ballet for children’s audiences dressed as a lamb (minus the wool – this lamb was practically naked). I’ve taught modern to ballerinas, ballet to brats, and ballroom to some of the oddest people on earth at Arthur Murray’s on 5^th Avenue.

Anyway, lately I decided it was time for a “real job.” Of course, this occurred to me right at the age when most people are thinking of retiring.

Maybe I’d go for that job in academia after all, joining the ranks of safe, comfortable friends -- as junior faculty, after getting my Ph.D, starting by writing a cookie-cutter essay for the geniuses of the GRE (grrr…).

Maybe I’d be an arts administrator, and sit at a desk wearing fabulous clothes every day – but my background doesn’t count as real work for jobs like that. (Plus there’s the whole shoes and pantyhose thing.)

Maybe I’d start my own school, which would put me in one place instead of five – but since I’ve been driving around the region, my footholds of students and supporters are also scattered all over the place, hours apart. (“Well, if you bring little Johnny after rush hour, it should only take two hours each way. You could be back home in time for the 11:00 news!”)

Then it fell into my lap – School Director of a small non-profit contemporary dance organization. So close to home I could walk, so my 15-year-old Honda should survive. No pantyhose or shoes! No getting fat, bored, or overly comfortable. No getting health insurance either – but I’m sure once I get the school’s finances up into the multi-millions, that will be no problem. (Note to self: play lottery.)

I’m taking over in June, and start teaching in August. That should give me plenty of time to get back my 20-year-old body, right? Okay, maybe the 30-year-old one? I’ll settle for one that can plie without sounding like a percussion ensemble.

Stay tuned!

Working with Dawgs

I've started doing some writing for Lesley. It takes some getting used to, so I have to think through every word at this point. But there's no pantyhose involved, and I can do it sitting on my couch with my laptop.

Unless the dogs are uncooperative. We have three -- the two above (Asia is the "baby," Doovy is the border collie) and a big, long-legged German Shepherd dog (Molly).

They weren't so cooperative this afternoon. It went like this (no exaggeration!).

1. Sit down on couch.
2. Remove Asia from lap.
3. Put laptop on lap.
4. Remove Asia from laptop. Place her on pillow.
5. Open documents to work on.
6. Note Asia is attempting to vomit, on pillow.
7. Move Asia to floor, where she walks around vomiting in various places.
8. Run for paper towels, water, soap.
9. Try to find where those various places were, cuz the rug has absorbed them. Scrub.
10. Sit down on couch, put laptop on lap, type three words.
11. Try (in vain) to stop Molly from barking thunderously at the UPS guy outside.
12. Concentrate. Try to remember where those three words were going...
13. Note that Doovy is doing the "need to go out" dance.
14. Let Doovy out, let Molly out, attempt to put the leash line on Asia.
15. Run after Asia through the snow with leash line in hand. Hook her up.
16. Back inside. Sit on couch, put laptop on lap, remember where I was, type the rest of first sentence.
17. Note Asia is barking urgently outside. Go out and unwind her from the deck furniture. Let her go back to playing with the other two.
18. Sit, couch, laptop, think...
19. Note that dogs are now barking to come back inside.
20. Let dogs in; unhook Asia.
21. Sit, let Asia sit on lap, put laptop on pillow, think of what to type next.
22. Note the freezing cold wetness in lap, jump up, get towel, wrap Asia in it.
23. Sit, laptop -- battery low. Find plug. Find outlet extension. Plug in.
24. Laptop, documents...  Note dogs lying down.
25. Type.

And I thought kids were difficult.