Student Blog: Shall We Dance? Learning How To Dance Again Post-Lockdown

My freshman year in high school, I auditioned for Show Choir. If you wanted to get into shows and be an active part of the theater community, you were in Show Choir. The group performed around the city, at school events, and at Disney. I desperately wanted to be in Show Choir.

My time to audition came and as I entered the dance call, I felt my palms grow sweaty. I looked around the room, everyone older and far more graceful than I was. Before I knew it, it was my turn to audition. As I did the elaborate combination, I made a mistake-and I fell. While I got up and continued to dance, I watched a senior loudly gasp at my fall and point out my mistake. It was mortifying. I didn't get into Show Choir.

Though I didn't get into Show Choir, I was one of the only freshmen to get into the Fall musical. After my "big fall", I was terrified to dance after literal years of lessons. Every choreography rehearsal I stood sheepishly in the back, trying to keep up with the steps. Until one day, the choreographer pulled me to the front.

A 5'1 woman with kind eyes who had danced on Broadway, my choreographer had a kind demeanor and was always patient. She pulled me to the front and had me dance. There was no escape from her gaze. From that point on, I knew I could trust Marianne. I did something I'd never done before, I asked her for help.

Everyday in rehearsal, I'd ask Marianne for help. She'd adjust my form, help my technique, and show me how to pick up choreography. Soon, dance rehearsals became my favorite rehearsals.

The following year I auditioned for Show Choir, and dance company. I got into show choir and Advanced Company. I danced for hours everyday in class and in rehearsals. Even when I wasn't dancing for a performance, I'd sneak into the studio to blow off steam. Something I had hated so vehemently had become my safe space for expression.

By the time I reached my senior year, I had been preparing for my senior show where I was to solo in a dance sequence. I looked forward to each rehearsal and was so proud of my hard work. Of course, I didn't know that the pandemic would hit and that show wouldn't happen. I never got to do my solo.

Entering college, all live performance programs had been moved to Zoom productions. I took Acting I over my computer screen and practiced Voice with a keyboard app over a Zoom call while my roommate studied chem in the corner.

While I worked with what I could, I couldn't dance. Workout facilities were closed to students for COVID-19 safety precautions. I distinctly remember sneaking into a gym on my dorm's floor to practice. The next day after they saw I used it, the door was locked.

When the world struggles, it seems as though the arts take a large hit. During lockdown, the dance major and minor programs were removed due to a lack of staff and building access.

After working for years on dance, I was worried I would forget everything I ever learned after entering college. COVID-19 made it harder to get out and I was terrified my body wouldn't remember the steps. I started practicing pirouettes on the smooth floor of my garage and stretching daily.

Dancing in front of a screen was far different from a live studio. The video Zoom showcase didn't hold the same appeal of a live audience reacting to your turns. After a teacher adjusts your technique, you have to take the time to correct your mistakes. It's difficult on your own in a dark dorm room while studios are closed.

This is my first year back to dancing in college. It's my junior year, I'm quickly approaching graduation and the dance studios are slowly starting to reopen.

Though it's been an adjustment, the movements have always been and stayed in my body. Starting back was rusty, I wasn't nearly as flexible as I was in highschool and technique has been lacking. However, the thrill of dancing is still there. It's still an escape and a form of expression I've longed for.

I've since enrolled in jazz lessons at Point Park now that my own program is gone and have thrown myself into studios in my free time. Dance is an art form, it doesn't have to be perfect and it takes time to learn. Dancing is a journey. While lockdown may have pivoted my dance journey, it didn't completely erase my progress. In fact, it made me value how much I had missed it.

This past weekend, I finished my first in-person musical in three years. After a few months of returning to lessons, I auditioned for a dancing role. Though I didn't get to perform my solo in highschool, I finally got my dance solo in college.