Teach: To impart knowledge or skill

Instruct: To furnish with knowledge

It’s been a while since I’ve written something.  And quite a bit has happened.  Aside from being named Editor-in-Chief of Vertical Art and Fitness magazine (shameless plug to get your subscription HERE), I have also started teaching pole.  This has opened up a whole other side of pole dancing for me.  It is one thing to be a student, and to dedicate yourself to dance.  It is an entirely different thing to teach it.  Becoming a teacher, in my opinion, is an extension of your learning curve – in any subject.  You never stop being a student, even when you teach.  At the same time, when you take on the responsibility of guiding others in a practice, you must lead by example.  This doesn’t mean you need to be flawless, but it does mean that you need to walk the walk.   For example, I can tell my students how to get into their bodies and how to access their emotions in their dance, and I can tell them how to be more sensual, but if I can’t embody those qualities in my movement, then I can’t really guide them to do the same.

There is a tremendous amount of energy that goes into teaching.  You are pouring your essence, your enthusiasm, your wisdom and your knowledge into others.  You are offering your students support, guidance, encouragement and inspiration.  And you are keeping the energy levels up and positive in the room, while making sure everyone is safe and everyone is learning something.  You really can’t show up to class with anything else on your plate, or your students will feel it.

I love it.

For me, teaching is about being of service.  It’s about nurturing and cultivating my students and helping them to grow in places they did not think possible.  But it’s also about respect.  In order to teach your students, you have to respect them.  You don’t have to like them, and you don’t have to be friends with them, but you do have to show them respect.  I remember when I first started learning to pole dance I viewed my teachers not just as instructors, but as mentors.  I believed in them and in what they were teaching me, and I had the utmost respect for their insight and wisdom.  Partly this was because they inspired me and partly it was because they acknowledged that whatever journey I was on was my own, and they knew when to get out of way.  Today, I try to inspire that same feeling in my students – not through flattery and empty cheering, or authority and credentials, but through sincere acknowledgement, careful observation, and kindness.

As a student, one of the biggest mistakes I saw teachers make was letting their egos get in the way.  If you want to teach, you cannot have an ego about it.  Your students will eventually see through it, and they will tire of it.  It is obvious when your students’ successes mean nothing more to you than a reflection of your own genius, or even worse, dollars in your wallet.  Naturally, everyone is susceptible to this kind of a thing – we are human after all – and we like appreciation.  But teachers who impart knowledge and skill as a one-way flow of information are doing their students and the material a huge disservice. Learning is a co-creative process.  People learn differently and in order to teach properly, you have to be able to understand your students’ learning styles and adjust accordingly.  This is true for pole dance too.  Your students may have blocks or fears in completely different areas.  Being able to identify those areas and help your students move past them requires you to be as aware of what your student is doing as they are of what you are teaching.  In psychology we learn that what you see in someone else is always filtered through your own lens, which is shaped by your own experiences.  It is impossible to make an observation about another human without taking into account your own issues.  This is especially important to remember when you are a teacher because you are being asked to guide another person on their journey.  How you guide them will depend heavily on your own level of self-awareness and humility.

Of course, all of this is easier said than done.  But the joy must come not just from your success at imparting a skill, but at your student’s happiness at mastering it.

My Marine Wives Class at Camp Pendleton

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In celebration of my new teaching position at Polistic Dance Studio in Los Angeles, Polistic is offering fans of The Pole Story and Bad Kitty Exoticwear a special discount:  Bring your friend for free to an Intro to Pole class.  Share the link to this blog on Facebook then message me for the Promo Code!

www.polistic.com

I was looking through a blog I kept from back in 2008 where I talked a bit about the pole classes I was taking. It was really a blast from the past, reading and remembering all the learning experiences I had in the studio, on the pole, and with the women who I built friendships with in class.

For most of my fledging pole career, I was with the same teacher and class for a very long time and there was a comfort in that. I knew them, they knew me; we all were aware of each other’s abilities and challenges. There was a trust built there. And that rapport is what kept me coming back: there was a sense of familiarity. My teacher could gauge my progress and see what I had started with, how much I had learned. She knew what was difficult for me and what I was working on. She could give me things to try that were just challenging enough to push me without being discouraging.

When I eventually left that class and went exploring elsewhere, it was a real shock to the system. I got the sideways “who are you?” looks from other students in class. People taught me who never knew my name, and had no idea what I was working on. I didn’t have any sense of continuity to my progress; I was taking drop-in classes everywhere and classes were so much larger than I was used to. I started feeling lost, and I didn’t have an emotional anchor. I was surrounded by a dizzying sense of “new” all the time, and didn’t have anyone who knew who I really was. I was frustrated that no one seemed to care.

It felt a little bit like the way it does when you start somewhere new– a job, a move, a school. All you want is for someone who knows you to call you up for a coffee and to have a conversation where you can be relaxed and be yourself, because this person knows you for who you are. And how funny to be reminded of all these feelings, now that I am on the other side and my experiences as a teacher color how I interpret what I read in that old journal from just a few years ago.

I see a lot of professionalism in pole today. I see students referred to as “clients”, and it’s great that there is that business model in place. I think that for businesses to succeed, studio owners need to make sure that they are accountable for their bottom line. They should have marketing strategies in place, understand how to manage teachers, have a process for customer grievances and a support network for their staff. But in all this, teachers, owners, everyone– we need to remember the student, and the person. Not just the “client.”

I am a firm believer that everyone can enjoy pole dance. That it can be fun for all of us, no matter what our fitness level is going into it, how often we do it, or how little or how much improvement we see. That strong students, coordinated students, and flexible students should get just as much attention as those who are NOT strong. NOT coordinated. NOT flexible. That every student can walk away from class feeling accomplished, challenged, and fulfilled by the movement that they just spent hard-earned money and time on. That no matter whether or not someone is “serious” about training or competing, they should still get as much attention as everyone else.

I’ve said before that if you foster a respectful relationship with each student in your class, and give of your time to everyone equally without favoritism, then students will see that they don’t have to be “good,” or put pressure themselves, to have fun and feel worthwhile. And that kind of positivity spreads. A repeat student is not just a retained client. A repeat student is not just a supporter of your studio. A student is not just someone who is a generator for good reviews or publicity. As Lady Gaga said, sometimes you have to put your trophies away. You should never rest on our laurels as a teacher. No matter how tired you are, how much you may want to go home, how crappy of a day you had, or the fight you just had with whoever, you should still always try your best as an instructor. Because while it may be “just another class” for you to teach, that could be the one hour that student has to truly forget about their horrible day. And they’re paying.

A student is a person, who is trying very hard to learn, and trying very hard to explore a genre of movement that is intimidating, scary, and difficult. And the support between teacher and student should always go both ways. As a teacher, you have a responsibility to ALL your students to encourage and cheer whether or not you see “commitment”, “talent”, or “ability”. As a teacher, what right do you have to judge potential or effort from anyone?

Re-reading that blog entry was like remembering all the student insecurities that I have ever had and realizing that I can address them better now that I am able to make an impact in my student’s lives, every time they walk into class. To try harder to make sure that every student leaves class with a smile on their face. To try harder to make these people feel good about themselves, challenge themselves, make them realize that they are more capable then they thought and they don’t have to be perfect. Because, really, that’s what I’m getting paid for.

If you’d like, you can connect with me on Facebook and find my pole blog here. Thanks for reading!

Not too long ago, I noticed a lot of pole dancers that I know (directly or through online networks) were expressing frustration and difficulty in carving out a niche for their own personal style. It seems once you get to a certain point in your pole journey, you spend a bunch of time figuring out what fits you best, and what kind of dancer you really want to be– and that can be a daunting and intimidating process. I asked Michelle Stanek, as well as Natasha Wang and Amber Richards, for their feedback in how this process worked for them. All three of them are clearly renowned pole dancers (and interviews with Amber and Natasha will be posted soon!), but all three of them also have incredibly distinctive styles that they have worked really hard to develop over time. I was hoping that by posting these ladies’ experiences, it could be inspiring or helpful for some of you out there!

Today’s entry is a guest blog by Michelle Stanek who has awesomely taken time out of her insane schedule to write for y’all! So thank you, Michelle =) She’s an immensely talented pole dancer: Pole Drama Winner at EMW Polarity 2010, USPDF Amateur Champion 2011, Pole Dance Universe Champion 2011, and she will be competing in the highly prestigious Pole Art in Finland in October. And she just so happens to teach at the same studio that I do. But,  she’s also a really good friend with a fabulous sense of humor, and she’s followed a really interesting path to become the pole dancer that she is today. Currently, Michelle lives in NYC, is an X-pert master trainer and teaches at Crunch, Shockra and Body  & Pole, where she trains as well.

So, without more ado, I present to you: Michelle’s take on personal style.

As the dust and glitter of USPDF and Pole Dance Universe settles, several people have asked me about my style of pole dance and how it developed to what it is today, or at least the style I have presented in both the PFA’s Polarity and USPDF competitions. Two years ago when I did my first pole performance/competition, Polesque, I described myself as “Sassy McNasty VonMelty.” Now my style has been described as a blend of ballet, modern, grace and aggression. And if I am pole dancing, God willing, in four more years, I’m sure it will develop into something new as I grow as a dancer, artist and person.

When I started pole dancing four years ago at Crunch Gym I would go for an hour class after work on Friday nights. No one knew much in terms of difficult moves or technique and all we really needed were our teeny shorts, stilettos, club music, hair whipping, booty popping and a pole anyway! We just had FUN. I met my best friends in this class. Afterwards, we would go out for margaritas and start a fun-filled New York City weekend. I remember thinking, how COOL is this? I am an art history professor and a program curator who knows how to work a pole like a stripper…but i’m not a stripper! It made me feel strong, sexy and mysterious! That was the attraction of pole dancing at first. And that is what made me come back to class one, two, then three times a week. Who walks around being super sassy and sexy all the time? No one! So this hour was my hour to unleash my inner diva in a room of supportive, diverse, fun women and friends. After about two years, that novelty did wear off when I began to progress in strength and skill. I saw that there can be so much more variety in they way I could pole dance. And maybe dancing like a stripper wasn’t what I wanted to do *all* the time. I wanted to explore and revisit my dance background and bring that to the pole.

I have a classical and modern dance background. By age 13 I was pretty ensconced in the ballet world and had amazing opportunities to perform, travel and study with some of the best teachers available to a teenager in Pennsylvania. Around 17 I discovered modern dance and focused on that, in addition to art history and business, in college, where I was also lucky to work with incredible contemporary choreographers. When I was 30 and two years into pole dancing, I realized that I could really utilize my extension, flexibility, grace and dance background on the pole. After a few years away from dance, a broken foot and the decision to “get a real job,” pole reignited my deeply ingrained passion for dance. I got back into modern dance classes at Peridance, Dance New Amsterdam and Broadway Dance Center. Taking those dance classes and being free from the binding pole felt amazing. And it really helped to expand my movement vocabulary beyond the standard pole dance floor work and typical sexy flows. And instead of watching so many pole videos on YouTube I started to watch a lot more videos of my favorite teachers, choreographers and dance companies like Slam, TOKYO, Calen Kurka, Cedar Lake Contemporary Ballet and others for inspiration and ideas. I even recalled a lot of old choreography I did years ago. I started to dance to music that was more lyrical or classical or obscure to help influence new movement. This resulted in a lot of trial and error, epic fails, very weird and ineffective movement, creative blocks and confusion of styles. I had freestyles where I was a hot mess and nothing I did looked good, felt good or made sense to the eye! Like the simple flexed foot can be incredibly effective if used in a meaningful way. If it’s just a superficial flexed foot for flexed-foot-weirdness-sake (?!) it’s distracting from the fluidity of lines. That’s a minute detail but a world of difference.

Although personal style is important and feels good when you find it, versatility is important too.  It’s important to show that you are not just a one-trick pony and as a dancer and artist, you can perform in different styles. Although I struggled with USPDF’s mandatory 5-inch minimum heel requirement (we fight to be taken seriously as athletes and fight to shed the image of pole dance in seedy clubs as strippers…yet we are forced to maintain that connection through what you cannot deny are “stripper” shoes), I appreciated the opportunity to be obviously sexy and serve up the sass for round 1 and then take the shoes off and get back to my modern roots for round 2. The innate sensuality of pole dance that initially reeled me in is still a huge reason why I enjoy it so much. But taking off the shoes presents me with the opportunity to be unusually and not so obviously fierce and sexy. And that’s the kind of sexy I like.

Finding your own style is difficult. It can take years. In college and graduate school (I have my BA and MA in art history) I hated the word “derivative.” People over-used this word for lack of a better one to say that a particular artists’ work reminds them too much of another artists’ work who came before them, as if they were just copying their style, and should be dismissed as uncreative copycats. No one wants to be an uncreative, derivative copycat! These are also called trends, people. They define artistic genres all the time. That’s why textbooks have chapters called “Abstract Expressionism” and “Surrealism” and “Neo-classicism.” Sorry…this is tangential. When you are just starting out, and most of us are considering how young pole dance is, it’s ok to find a style you like that you see out there. But find things from your own life to incorporate into your dance. I have a friend who is a brilliant choreographer who will always incorporate the spelling of her husband’s name, Max, into her work, like YMCA! in hidden ways. But it’s always there. And it’s special and unique. Spend time alone on the pole to explore. Lose the shoes. Put them back on. Turn the lights off and forget about the mirror. Close your eyes. Then inspect every detail of your movement in the mirror and see what a difference a slight angle in the tilt of your head can make. Dance to Bach then Lil Wayne then Adele. Take other dance classes. Experiment. Fail. Laugh. Grow.

Thanks for reading, Bad Kitties! If you enjoyed this blog, stay tuned for Natasha and Amber’s perspectives coming soon!

If you’d like, you can connect with me on Facebook and find my pole blog here.

I’ve talked a little bit on my Aerial Amy blog about how the circus bug has bitten my group of girlfriends. One has always astonished us with her completely fearless pole drops and she has, not surprisingly, found herself hooked on the much more dramatic and higher drops that are possible in silks. Two friends are lost to flying trapeze: one, for the love of the weightless swing, and another because of the freedom, relaxation, and breath that comes from flying.

A conversation with another close friend, who has been bitten by the silks bug as well, made me realize that for me, yes, part of my romance with the lyra is the new environment. I love the accepting and supportive students and teachers at the circus school I go to—the teachers in particular are amazing at isolating what you are doing wrong. I feel myself getting stronger and using different muscles, and smoothing out transitions between tricks. I can see the progress and I now have a nice little repertoire of tricks that I can put together in flows. And my pole experience definitely helps—some of the tricks are taken right from pole, and some of the points of contact from pole (inside of elbow, backs of knees) have already been toughened up and are ready to rock on the lyra.

But one of the biggest reasons I love it? In my lyra classes, I’m the newcomer. I can walk into a lyra class and no one has any expectations of me, and I don’t have any of myself. I don’t have to worry about looking stupid, or being judged, or more importantly: Me judging me. There is no pressure. And I don’t know anyone else in the classes—there is no one to compare myself to, no one that I pressure myself to keep up with. Lyra is mine. It’s something that I do, largely on my own, and as I improve and get better, I find that I really allow myself to celebrate the small victories (like back when I was just beginning to pole) all over again. I love reacquainting myself with this delicious beginning, fumbling, learning. I don’t need to get good enough to perform. I just enjoying doing it because it is something I am doing for myself. In a lyra class, I can really be myself again: Amy, the learner.

I think that the pole community is great. It connects us in so many ways. But nowadays, I hear so many beginners despair that they are not learning “fast enough” or “keeping up” with their classmates or people that they see in videos online. There is so much of the urge to compare yourself against others and when there have been thousands of people who have come before you, it’s hard to pick your own route when the path has already been so well travelled.

I think I was a little lucky in a sense: in 2007, when I started, there was no way to compare myself to anyone else except the women in my small class. So much of what made pole fun for me was enjoying the journey. I didn’t have a goal that I was shooting towards. I didn’t have an end game, or even a real role model besides my teacher I suppose. Tricks were never really emphasized in my classes as much as fluidity and self expression so I don’t think I saw “improvement” quite the same way that women do now, with the many checklists of tricks that so many seem to have (and a lot of these tricks weren’t even around when I first started!).

The first USPDF in 2009 blew my world wide open with what pole could be, and every year so much expands and grows in our pole community. But, hand in hand with the increased resources that experienced polers now have, is the increased intimidation that beginners can see in front of them every day. Now, a lot of people seem to see the beginning stages and intermediate stages of pole work as things that they just need to get through before they get “really good” and can compete or perform. I hear people ask all the time about how to get their splits as quickly as possible. Beginning polers are embarrassed that they are just starting, or “not that good”.

I’d like to see all of us, maybe, remind ourselves of the fun of challenging ourselves on the pole. I’ve talked about reveling in the strength, weakness, abilities, and limitations of your own body. But I think we also need to remember to enjoy to learn. To take this process for ourselves. I’ve been going back to beginner and intermediate classes a little more to remember what it feels like to be at that level again, to inspire myself for my students, and to work on regaining the strength and coordination that I lost on my left side after my injury. I see so much insecurity and nervousness around me. I wish I saw more people truly having fun and enjoying themselves. Instead I see a lot of comparison to others. Standing and watching. Which is okay. But at some point, awareness of what is possible can become dwelling on what you can’t do. Forget what other people are doing and focus on yourself.

Let’s take pole back. Make it yours. Be selfish. Do it for you.

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