In case you’re not caught up with Frame’s newest weekly series, Thesis Thursday, you can catch up on the last two blog posts here. In a nutshell, this series features installments of my senior thesis written for Rice University’s Center for the Study of Women, Gender and Sexuality. It explores the topics of Contact Improvisation, Feminism, feminist performance art, and female empowerment through movement.

Here’s a re-cap of my initial post:

I will argue that CI is a complex feminist practice. The relationship CI has to feminism is complex because it is not inherently feminist, but enables women to have a feminist experience.

If you don’t have time to catch up on the first two posts, have no fear! It’s a perfect week to dive in! This is the first post to go beyond the introductory material and into the “meat” of my first chapter. Enjoy!

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Chapter One: Influences, Feminist Connections and Contact Improvisation

Part I. Modernist Influences

By Lena Silva

Contact Improvisation, like feminist performance art, has a clear link to modern and postmodern dance as shown through the early career of Steve Paxton. He considered himself an outsider to the dance establishment. Despite having studied gymnastics in his childhood and modern dance at the University of Arizona, Paxton did not believe he was a “real dancer.” Only while dancing for the Merce Cunningham Dance Company at age 22 did Paxton begin to identify as a dancer. Paxton admits, “It took me a long time to admit that I was a ‘dancer’…Because I held dancers in such high esteem… it took me a long time to feel I was part of [the New York arts scene]”.[1] Perhaps his affinity with postmodern dance and egalitarian approach to dance making was related to his outsider mentality.

Steve Paxton worked alongside or under many women and men during his formative years as a dancer before CI was initiated. These included Merce Cunningham, José Limón, and Yvonne Rainer. Rainer identified as a feminist performance artist, and Paxton had other colleagues that did so as well. Feminist belonged to the three dance communities that were most influential for Paxton: the Judson Dance Theatre, The Living Theater, and the Grand Union. These individuals and groups provided an influential legacy of egalitarianism and non-hierarchical organization for CI.

Steve Paxton

Merce Cunningham (1919–2009), a major influence on Steve Paxton, was a dancer, choreographer and leader in the American avant-garde for over fifty years, at his most prolific in the 1950’s and 60’s when he worked with Paxton.[2] The most important legacy of Cunningham’s for Paxton was Cunningham’s reliance on collaboration with artists of many different types (including musicians, architects, painter, and actors) and his willingness to experiment. He coined the postmodern technique of chance choreography, which required collaboration John Cage a musician and Cunningham’s life partner. Cage composed musical scores for the dance shows independently of Cunningham’s choreography so that the resulting dance abandoned conventional efforts for dance to match music.

Merce Cunningham

However, Paxton’s style of dance making diverged from Cunningham’s insistence on heteronormative partnering. According to Sally Banes, “Cunningham could not, or would not, escape the heritage of classical ballet… men still supported and lifted women…in quite traditional ways. Men did not partner men, nor did women lift or support women.”[3] Paxton and other members of Cunningham’s company questioned the heteronormative conventions, which opened them to a less traditional choreography of gender relations in dance. As early as 1961, while still dancing with Cunningham, Paxton began complicating the gendered nature of choreography in “Proxy,” which the female dancer of the duet lifts the male dancer.[4]

Also during the early 1960’s in New York City, Paxton spent one year dancing with one of the most influential modern dancers in history, José Limón. Limón refused to codify his technique to avoid stifling the creativity of his students. He encouraged them to find their individual expression of a movement, an improvisational element shared by postmodern dance.[5] Limón’s sensitivity toward creative hierarchy was important for Paxton who also chose to set out a minimal frame of reference of movement for dancers rather than impose on them the necessity to dance exactly like him.

Jose Limon

Limón appointed Doris Humphrey to be the artistic director of his company rather than personally assuming the position. That he chose a woman is notable. Despite the prestige some women had in the modern dance world, such as Isadora Duncan and Martha Graham, many others struggled to attain prominence at the level of their male contemporaries. Humphrey is acclaimed for opening up modern dance to the nuances of gravity with her principle of “fall and recovery,” which focuses on organic falls and rebounds of the body that arise from shifts in weight.[6] Humphrey said gravity was “…the very core of all movement, in my opinion.”[7] Her style is similar to what became central to CI movement technique: focusing on gravity and sharing changes in weight between partners as impetus for spontaneous movement.

Dorris Humphrey

Hey Framers, it’s almost the weekend!

Why not start the end of the week with a good read?

Well… at least I think it’s pretty good, but I’m a little biased. Check out this second installment of my senior honors thesis written for Rice University’s Center for the Study of Women, Gender and Sexuality. It explores the topics of Contact Improvisation, Feminism, feminist performance art, and female empowerment through movement. 

Here’s a re-cap of last week’s initial post:

I will argue that CI is a complex feminist practice. The relationship CI has to feminism is complex because it is not inherently feminist, but enables women to have a feminist experience.

If you have time read the full article!

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Part II of Points of Contact: Contact Improvisation and Feminism

I will substantiate my argument by focusing on facets of CI that its founders acknowledge as fundamental: gender non-conformity, rejection of sensual repression, rejection of hierarchical and commerce-driven demands on the production of art, and complication of the sexual consummation ideal. This will be accomplished through examination of interviews with founding members of CI, some conducted specifically for this project and some recorded by others, as well as an examination of the periodical Contact Quarterly, founded in 1975 as a forum for the discussion of CI as it was emerging. This evidence will be supplemented by secondary sources from authorities, including Ann Cooper Albright, Cynthia Novack and Cheryl Pallant. These authors highlight the egalitarian and anti-hierarchical nature of the dance form.[1] I link the history of CI to feminist performance art and the recent forms of CI to feminist theories of sexuality, gender equity and embodiment.[2] To accomplish this, I will draw upon accounts from practitioners who testify to the usefulness of CI in solidifying their sexual autonomy, helping them cope with gender-based violence and body image issues, and liberating their experience of gender from the feminine-masculine dichotomy.

I had a blast going through old articles from the Contact Quarterly – dating all the way back to the 70’s! 

My first chapter provides a historical analysis of the proximity of CI to the feminist art movement of the 1960’s and 70’s. The feminist art movement emerged in the late 1960’s precisely at the time that CI was conceptualized. According to dramaturg and English scholar, Jeanie Forte, “Within this movement, women’s performance emerges as a specific strategy that allies postmodernism and feminism, adding the critique of gender/patriarchy to the already damaging critique of modernism inherent in the activity.”[3] The “personal as political” became a mantra for many feminists of the time who sought to politicize their personal experiences of gender in order to draw attention to sexism and criticize patriarchy.[4] Also according to Forte, “Women’s performance art operates to unmask this function of ‘Woman,’ responding to the weight of representation by creating an acute awareness of all that signifies Woman, or femininity.”[5] To accomplish this, feminist artists made use of autobiographical narratives, their physical bodies, and emerging gender politics, which simultaneously opened up the nature of performance art itself. Carolee Schneeman, Yoko Ono and the Guerrilla Girls are recognized as significant feminist performance artists from the past few decades.[6]

I read Rainer’s autobiography, Feelings Are Facts, to give me more background and perspective on her work and relationship to CI. The book was recommended to me by Nancy Stark Smith in one of our conversations.

Chapter One focuses on the collaboration between feminist performance artist Yvonne Rainer and Steve Paxton during the inception of CI. To analyze feminist thought as it emerged in the feminist performance art movement and alongside the development and practice of CI, I will use writings by art historian, Linda Nochlin, feminist philosopher, Judith Butler and historian Alice Echols. These scholars outline the power of structural conditions, performativity of gender, and importance of representation. All of which are engaged with, in some way, by feminist performance art and CI. I will also look at video recordings of the first CI performances in order to analyze gendered politics of movement and partnering. I will discuss interviews I conducted with Nancy Stark Smith on her stance on feminism and CI. Her remarks reveal the politicizing effects of CI and contribute to my larger claim about the dance form as a complex feminist practice.

Hey Framers! Happy Monday!

Frame Dance Productions has been running its series MFA Monday for the past seven months and it has been a whirlwind of wonderful insights into a Master of Fine Arts in Dance.

We’ve featured seasoned professionals like our own board member, Rosie Trump, as well as Mary Grimes, Diane Cahill Bedford, Matthew Cumbie, Amanda Jackson and Heather Nabors,

alongside fresh perspectives from an MFA student, Angela Falcone,

and more from a Frame Dancer, Laura Gutierrez, who is considering going to get her MFA

complimented by Dr. Alexis Weisbord who has her PhD in Critical Dance Studies.

It has been a GREAT run so far – check out some of these articles, they’re well worth the read! And look forward to next week when we begin a new three-part arc featuring Sue Roginski:

Sue Roginski graduated from Wesleyan University in 1987 with a BA in Dance and from the University of California Riverside in 2007 with an MFA in Dance (experimental choreography). She is a teacher, choreographer, and performer who has produced her own work as well as performances to benefit Project Inform, Breast Cancer Action, and Women’s Cancer Resource Center. In the past few years, Sue has had the opportunity to share choreography at Anatomy Riot (LA), Highways Performance Space (Santa Monica), Unknown Theater (LA), AB Miller High School (Fontana), Society of Dance History Scholars (conferences ’08 and ’09), The Haven Café and Gallery (Banning), Back to the Grind Coffee House (Riverside), Heritage High School (Romoland), KUNST-STOFF arts (SF), and Riverside Ballet Arts (Riverside). She also has been privileged to dance and perform with Susan Rose and Dancers since 2005. Sue teaches at Mt. San Jacinto College and Riverside City College and divides her time between Riverside and San Francisco where she had a ten year career as dancer and collaborator with the Margaret Jenkins Dance Company. Sue performs with Dandelion Dancetheater (Bay Area based ensemble) and Christy Funsch (SF dance artist) whenever possible, and in 2010 created P.L.A.C.E. Performance (a dance collective) with friend and colleague Julie Satow Freeman. Her ongoing creative process infuses choreography with improvisation.

Stay tuned Framers, more to come!

How lucky we are to have Amanda Jackson back for her third entry on MFA Monday.  Enjoy, enjoy, enjoy…she even shares a choreographic exercise with us.

Amanda Jackson holds an MFA in Dance from Texas Woman’s University. She is a performer, choreographer, educator, stylist, and avid cooking improviser. Her work has been presented across Texas, New Mexico, Oklahoma, and Louisiana with a notable experience at Harvard University with collaborator, Matthew Cumbie. Amanda is Co-Director of Big Rig Dance Collective in Denton, TX and Adjunct Professor of Dance at Tarrant County College Northwest. www.ajdance.org

MFA: Little and Big Things

Part 3 – Absence: Nothing equals something

By Amanda Jackson

For my last blog entry I had every intention of sharing some experiences of my life after graduate school centered on working as an adjunct professor. Weeks ago, I even reached out to some very respected colleagues to assemble some of their insights into this line of work. You see I graduated with my MFA this past May, so I haven’t been away from that intense graduate school environment for very long. Immediately following graduation I began working as an adjunct professor at a local community college – working with brand new groups of students along with faculty whom I truly admire but rarely see. I also recently moved to a new city that is just far enough away from most of my grad cohort (who stuck around the North Texas area), making a regular commute to socialize and create with them more challenging. Basically, I feel like I’ve been dropped into a new world. A world that is a bit lonely and less rigorous compared to the processes I was involved in as an MFA student. I reached out to my respected colleagues with these words: I am just feeling a giant shift… I feel stale, uninspired, and without a close support group. Has anyone else felt this way? What are some strategies you use to feel fulfilled as professional artists while working with new student populations in new academic environments?

What I have been feeling is absence. I recently stumbled across the concept of absence in a creative discussion with my brilliant friend Matthew Cumbie, who shared his MFA Monday arc just before me. Matt and I created a duet together in 2010, presenting and performing the work in several different venues across the US. He is currently developing a few ideas from our work in a new solo that he premiered a couple of weeks ago in DC. Over the phone, Matt expressed that it didn’t feel quite the same to perform without me. I then suggested: “Why don’t you incorporate a score of dancing with me? I’ll just be absent.” Simple enough. We all might have played with similar scores choreographically or in a performance context… But this thought stuck with me. Absence. I think it stuck because of my current transitional state between student life and professional life. I’ve been feeling an absence of fulfillment as an artist. Things that were readily available as an MFA student that aided in my artistic fulfillment  – rehearsal space, close collaborators, deep critical inquiry, nearby faculty to provide insight and feedback – well these things don’t easily exist outside of graduate school. All of these luxuries quickly vanished once I graduated and it feels a bit like a divorce… I grew accustomed to a certain way of life, a certain way of creating, and I suddenly lost it all.

I want to note that I do not necessarily equate absence with loss… I believe absence to be temporal; a state of being where we can regain what we feel is not currently present. To shed some positive light on a word with negative connotations, we can say that nothing does equal something. The absence of ___________ is the presence of ___________. Although I am straying from my initial intentions for this blog, I feel compelled to do a little brainstorming about absence. The absence of my initial intention is the presence of this investigation of absence. Rather than trying to over analyze or structure my new investigation, I’ll offer you some questions and threads of thought that are currently stirring in my mind:

There’s something in the air. Or, there’s something not in the air. I’ve had the same discussions with other artists, friends, and family about feeling like something is absent from our lives. Lots of people feel it… the desire to streamline, simplify, give it all up and start over, run a bookstore, run away, work at Whole Foods, experience every sunset, develop quality work, live a quality life, and breathe in something that seems to be absent. Maybe in this state of absence we are becoming more open to possibility and change. At least that’s how I prefer to look at it. Perhaps we are waiting for a jolt or impulse to re-enliven our present situations. Waiting. Does waiting only imply passivity? Can waiting also imply listening? Maybe this sense of absence is the jolt, jolting us to listen to our desires of simplicity, quality, or what ever it is that we deem as fulfilling right now.

To conclude my arc, I want to share an exercise developed by choreographer Meg Stuart found in her book, Are we here yet? This is an exercise that I’m dying to try. Maybe you want to experience it with a partner as well. You might even allow your imagination travel through her prompts. Either way, we can appreciate the inherent melding of absence and presence here.

Remote partners in contact

Hug your partner for an extended period of time. Imagine you are saying goodbye to each other. Don’t speak. Begin to explore proximity to each other, allow distance between you, then come close to each other again, but don’t touch. As you stand very close to each other, imagine that you are very far apart. Stand on opposite sides of the room. Try going behind objects in the room so that you can’t see each other. Move around the space not looking for each other. One person stays in the studio while the other goes into the dressing room or outside, all the while both stick to the agreement that you are in a duet. Spend a long time away from each other in separate parts of the city, town, or place you are in. You can go and have a coffee or run an errand but the experience is completely informed by your partner who is not there. Remain in metaphysical contact even as the physical distance between you grows. Write down your experiences and share them with your partner when you meet again. 

Another rave review for Mr. Cumbie’s series contributing to the Frame Dance blog’s “MFA Monday”! Congrats Matt, we’re honored to have you as a contributor!

http://danceexchange.org/2013/02/06/matthew-cumbie-featured-on-frame-dance/

Good morning and happy Monday to the Framers! My favorite thing about Mondays now is our column MFA Monday. Today, Amanda Jackson is back and honest as ever. We are grateful for these wise words on boundaries.

Amanda Jackson holds an MFA in Dance from Texas Woman’s University. She is a performer, choreographer, educator, stylist, and avid cooking improviser. Her work has been presented across Texas, New Mexico, Oklahoma, and Louisiana with a notable experience at Harvard University with collaborator, Matthew Cumbie. Amanda is Co-Director of Big Rig Dance Collective in Denton, TX and Adjunct Professor of Dance at Tarrant County College Northwest. www.ajdance.org

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MFA: Little and Big Things

Part 2 –In the grand scheme of things…

By Amanda Jackson

In reading the previous blog entries shared on MFA Mondays, I realize that I run the risk of sounding redundant if I were to discuss the immensely wonderful opportunities presented in grad school. The path to your MFA should indeed blow your mind in the most fantastic ways. My offerings this week, however, may shed some light on a less glamorous side of my path towards MFA…

Each morning as I walked through the wind tunnel toward the dance building, I created some pretty outrageous scenarios in my head for how my day would pan out. A recurring scenario would be the image of a fire-breathing dragon confronting me in the doorway, telling me that I’m not cut out for grad school. Through groveling tears, I would throw myself at the dragon’s spiky feet begging for mercy and guidance. The dragon would tell me to resign and never make dance again. I was always terrified of failure and in the strangest way, these scenarios helped me feel prepared for the worst. Looking back I realize how awful it felt to begin my days with such negativity. I could even feel the tension arise in my body as I walked into the building – as if I was physically bracing myself for criticisms that didn’t yet exist. I even feel the tension now as I recall these experiences to share with you all.

As you might have gathered, I am sharing some personal experiences of discomfort. Through moments of discomfort, I learned much more about my self – beyond myself as a student – and how I’ve come to value my time and energy. What I consider to be one of the most valuable questions I can ask now is: “In the grand scheme of things, how important is it?”

When reflecting on my time in grad school, I tend to question my actions of putting my “real life” on hold for the sake of completing extra favors, projects, or rehearsals – all things that basically made me feel like a better student and more accomplished artist. I missed weddings, funerals, births, and just simple quality time with close friends and family. Grad school made me quite the over-achiever. This is not a bad trait! However, what if we begin to question the value or process of “achieving” this extra work? Is the achievement simply based on completing the task? What if that project pulled your time and energy away from other tasks or people that were actually more important? What if you weren’t fully present in rehearsal? Is this extra work really that important if you cannot fully put forth your best efforts? Are you all in or just fluffing and noodling around? Even if you don’t feel like it’s your best work, did you put in your whole self? I don’t think there is a simple answer for what I am proposing. However, these are all questions that I at least entertain in my mind now that I am out of school… I’ve come to understand the value of “less is more” in order to give fewer things my best and fullest efforts.

During my time in school I also felt like I performed favor after favor… It was difficult for me to voice my concerns regarding my time and energy. Below is a list that I comprised for myself – what I learned in hindsight that may have made my life feel a bit simpler or potentially more rewarding. You might find some resonance here, too.

• Do a favor for someone because you are genuinely generous. A colleague recently said that volunteering should be done with a generous heart. I couldn’t agree more.
• Perform the favor because it’s something that you really want to do and you have the time and energy to do it well! Always strive to put your best work forward, even in a volunteer situation.
• Don’t perform a favor for someone with an expectation that they’ll return the favor. If the favor isn’t returned, you might be left with feelings of disappointment and resentment.
• For you overly generous people: Beware that others might continue to take advantage of your generosity, whether that’s their intention or not. Don’t be afraid to say “NO!” If you need advice on how to stop doing things you dislike, or disliking the things you do, visit this blog! Perhaps all you need is a shift in perspective.

Just know that there’s a ton of work to do in grad school and at some point, choices will need to be made on how to accomplish the work successfully while maintaining a sense of well being. I’m sure you’ve heard stories, but honestly the work never ends. You might even continue to work after you walk across the stage and receive your temporary diploma. So allow yourself to take breaks in the midst of all the work! Real breaks. Not the kind of break where you flip on an episode of Buffy, eat a bowl of ramen noodles, and continue fluffing your document while checking emails and reading articles about aesthetics or pedagogy. Step away from the work, slurp your noodles, and enjoy watching some vampires turn to dust. Or take a walk. Or nap. Or bathe by candlelight. It doesn’t matter. Just give yourself some real time away from your work, even if the time seems relatively brief. These true moments away might even offer some new insights into the work you’re trying to accomplish.

What I learned towards my third year in the MFA program was to take the necessary breaks in order to avoid feeling burnt out or resentful of my work. Often it felt like the task at hand was simply keeping my head above water rather than immersing myself in a rich development process… And I believe that one of the ultimate beauties of graduate school is that you have this necessary time and space to dive in, coming out at the end having developed rich new perspectives that will forever influence your art-making. Just remember to come up for air once in a while.

Merry Christmas Framers!  It’s a busy, joyful, and sometimes overwhelming time of year to be sure.  We thought we’d give you a little recap of one of our previous MFA Monday arc’s today, and you can click the links in the text to read the whole article.  Rosie Trump’s arc “So You Think You Want a MFA?”, in case you missed it, consisted of three posts.  Here’s a quick summary:

The first gives tips on how to choose a good MFA program, and how to negotiate the financial aspects of your graduate school career.  Rosie also cautions against committing to an MFA program if you are at all unsure about your choice.

The second article gives advice on how to take full advantage of your time in graduate school.  She advises about financials and even lays out an example of a 5-year plan of how to make the most of your MFA.

The third and final post discusses the post-MFA life and how to get on your feet after graduating.  Rosie gives ideas for how to create opportunities for yourself in your field.

Enjoy these articles and have a very Merry Christmas!

 
Rosie Trump holds a M.F.A. in Experimental Dance Choreography from UC Riverside.  She is a choreographer, dance filmmaker and educator.  Her teaching credits include Seton Hill University, Mt. San Jacinto College and Rice University. Trump is the founder and curator of the annual Third Coast Dance Film Festival. rosietrump.org

Good Morning Framers!  Welcome back to MFA Monday– enjoy this one, we did….

Diane Cahill Bedford holds her M.F.A. in Dance Performance and Choreography from Florida State University. She is a dancer, choreographer, educator, and photographer; she currently serves as Professor of Dance at San Jacinto College South in Houston, TX. Diane has previously taught dance and presented her choreography in New York, Florida, Indiana, South Carolina, New Mexico, and Texas. www.dianecahillbedford.com

M.F.A. Life vs. Real Life

Part III: The Gifts You Receive and Give to Others…

Today, I find myself humbled by the great tragedy of a school shooting in a Connecticut elementary school and asking myself, as a teacher, what do I do for my own students? After watching an interview about a brave teacher who saved her classroom, I was once again reminded about my own fundamental role as an educator. That role is to serve my students. I am their guide, their inspiration, their mentor and so many other roles in their quest for knowledge. While I know many dancers who pursue their M.F.A. are not necessarily interested in teaching full time, or perhaps ever, all graduates will experience teaching and mentoring another person in some fashion. Perhaps that mentoring experience will be solely as a choreographer or as a senior company member to a new professional. But, never-the-less you will be responsible for shaping the life of another person in some meaningful way.  How will you shape someone else’s life? This question may not be one you stop to ask yourself in graduate school because so much of the emphasis is on you as the student. But, perhaps this question should become a guiding principle in your own approach.

As a dance artist, much of your life revolves around inspiration. We question what inspires us and try to funnel those thoughts into movement. In an M.F.A. program, you are often challenged to continually find new sources of inspiration, new approaches to work, and basically to be a creative warehouse. This challenge is not unlike the challenges of post M.F.A. work (be it teaching, choreographing, etc). However, in the real world where you are no longer the student, you cannot focus solely on your own inspiration. Especially as a teacher, you must share what inspires you, but you must also find out what inspires your students. As they say, you can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink. As such, your passions and interests may inspire students, but those things alone will not be enough to fuel their creativity. You must also be their mentor: the person that listens to their ideas, fears, hopes, and wishes as you guide them along the path to becoming their own great artists. I suppose that is where we often forget to take notes in grad school. How did our own instructors do the same for us?

Graduate school is the time to be selfish so-to-speak. You are there for your own education and your own growth; your instructors are there to be your mentors and guides. Even though you may be soaking up all the challenges and attention that does not mean you are ungrateful for those blessings. But, one thing your mentors may not stop and tell you is how they guide you. Being a full time teacher myself now feels like becoming a parent (another journey I am soon to embark upon). Your parents may not explain to you how they guided you, but you often wind up following their examples when you step into the role yourself. Sometimes, I wish I had taken better notes of those situations! I think about the subtle questions, the gentle guiding, and the suggestions I was given that helped me find my own inspiration, and I try to duplicate that behavior with my own students. I learn, on a daily basis, what it means to be unselfish in my work.

For some people, this may be a difficult transition. But, it is an imperative one. If after earning an M.F.A. you are not ready to make the focus about someone else, then do not go into teaching full-time. Too often, I hear of or see teachers and professors who do substantial creative work and are masters of developing their craft on a continual basis. But I wonder, in all that creative genius, where do the students factor into the equation? Personally, I am not convinced that the most artistically self-productive people have anything left in the tank for their students. That being said, I am not by any means arguing that teachers should forget to develop their own interests or channel their own inspirations into work. But, if one transitions to the role of teacher, one must be prepared to sacrifice some of their own personal development and gains for the sake of properly mentoring the students. While that transition may not (hopefully) be one of life and death, and while you may not literally be holding your student’s lives in your hands, you will be just as responsible for the development of their artistic lives as your instructors were of your artistic life.

So when you are in grad school, pay attention to how your instructors shape and mentor you. Then, if you decide to teach after you earn your M.F.A., you will hopefully be able to inspire your own students with love and passion for their art and for life. So remember, the greatest gifts you receive in graduate school will be the greatest gifts you can give to others once you complete your degree. And from my experience, when the student becomes the teacher is the moment you really appreciate those M.F.A. experiences and everything that was given to you by those who paved your way.

Hey Framers!!

Happy chilly Houston Monday! Cozy up with some tea and read the newest installment of Diane’s MFA Monday arc!

M.F.A. Life vs. Real Life

Part II: An Ounce of Preparation…

Benjamin Franklin once said, “ An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure,” and I think this quote applicably describes the idea of preparing for a full-time teaching position after grad school. While transitioning into teaching full-time might seem like a natural process, there are many speed bumps along the way. But, when I have hit some of these speed bumps, I have silently thanked myself for putting in the extra time and preparation in grad school I did not necessarily have to do. What are these speed bumps and how do you prepare? First, you must begin with all those classes that have very little to do with dance-making…

One of the best classes I took in grad school was Dance History Pedagogy. Now before your eyes start drooping at the word History, here’s a little factoid to wake you up. Many colleges and universities expect you to be proficient in something else besides teaching and making dance. These areas would namely be History and World Cultures, Dance Science, and Technology. Translation: if all you can do well is teach some traditional dance forms and choreography, you’re going to find yourself at the bottom of everyone’s “wanted” list.  With a competitive job market, that is a place you cannot afford to be listed.

Ok, so now that you’re alert again, let us return to Dance History Pedagogy. The main purpose of this course was to design a syllabus and some course materials to teach either Dance Appreciation, 20^th Century Dance, or Dance in World Cultures. Without getting into the nitty gritty details, I will say this: do more than is required in these types of classes. Did I have to research and document every reading I would use if I taught the class? No. But I decided to put in the extra preparation, and I think it was one of the best decisions I ever made.  Why? Because when I got the opportunity to teach the class in my last semester of grad school, I was more prepared to do so and could spend more hours of my time preparing lectures, grading, and generally teaching the class. How did I get this awesome opportunity? I asked my Department Chair if I could teach the class because I wanted to gain the experience. As my mother always told me, asking is free.  You may not get what you want, but you’ll never know unless you ask for it. I highly recommend practicing this technique in grad school and beyond.

So when I began applying for jobs, I was even more aware that my extra preparation gave me a leg up. In fact, I’m fairly certain that part of the reason I landed my first full-time teaching gig was due to my experience in teaching Dance Appreciation. Better yet, when I had to re-vamp the class in five days (that’s right 5 days) due to a standard issue text my college requires, I was able to tweak what I had already prepared rather than having a heart-attack at the age of 29.

Now I know you may be asking why I only had five days to prepare, so I’m going to explain the main speed bump you will probably hit in a nutshell. You will have much less time and possibly resources to prepare yourself for your classes than you think. Much less. For example, I received my new textbooks for all the classes I was required to teach just five days before classes began. You may be required to teach six different classes or more in one semester along with committees and other extra duties for your job. Mix up and stir in all your extra time for creating dance and rehearsals and you have yourself a recipe for a panic attack. But, if you already have resources, planned classes, and other material you spent extra time preparing in grad school, you might be able to breathe a little easier.

Now while my advice is to concentrate on non-dancing courses, this is of course applicable to any of your grad school classes and experiences. While it may seem that you don’t have the extra time in grad school to write out lessons plans, or favorite combinations your instructors gave, or finish those extra Pilates certification hours, you will inevitably not have more time once you are working either. The number of times I have reached for some of those extra materials far outweighs the stress I felt when gathering them up in grad school. And, since I was already knee deep in the process of learning and preparing, it was much easier to do the extra work being in the moment. As they say in yoga, “be present,” so you can concentrate on the task at hand. So, while I may not go as far as Benjamin Franklin in saying my preparation was a cure for the stress of my job, I will certainly agree that it alleviates a great deal of the jolting effect that the bumpy road of teaching induces.