I first heard these words in 1973 in the tiny dance studio at Commonwealth. I was 14. What possible relevance could they have today to me? To the world?
For me these words remain an invitation to another way of being, breathing, thinking. A parallel universe.
Thirty-six years later I still practice these movements with another gifted, generous teacher in Cambridge. Every week. No longer 14, I too will turn 50 next month. I am a CPA, a financial consultant, a mother of 17-year-old twin boys, and a wife. Ballet class allows me to connect to an incredible inner core established a very long time ago. A place of strength, joy and love.
How does an adult engage emerging adolescents to participate more fully, more physically, to turn a switch on at 14 or 15?
Jackie Curry had a gift with kids, as I know she still does. What made all of us want to be there in the studio with her? Becky Goff, Hope Gillerman, Thalia Gamble, Marijke Alkema, John De Gacciamo, and Diane Chomsky are the people I remember in that studio. Here was a safe place to belong, a place to stretch physically, emotionally and creatively. A place to have joy and share whatever mayhem was going on in your life.
Jackie supported you and challenged you at the same time. She was a feisty but subtle and if you think she didn't see when people were not quite themselves, she did. The comfort was in her being there every day to see what you had.
For Jackie and us it was not just about dancing. It was about finding a vibrant space, a skill to explore that continued to reflect back and feed the other aspects of our life. It was about finding our own foundation of strength from which to leap. We danced and we were more fully present in English class with John Hughes and Lear, we spoke more clearly in French class with Jacqueline Ryan and Mme. Roudebush. We learned a specific language of movement. It was also a lesson in learning other languages and disciplines, unknown to us then—business, math, public speaking.
Charles Merrill talked about dancing with your body or your pen. When, he asked me to be one of the two valedictorians for my class, I asked, “Why would any one want to hear what I had to say?” His answer was to talk about why I danced. I say now, as I did then, that the arts—all of them—whether they are the focus your professional life or not—enrich our understanding, our perspective, our ability to look at the world and to relate to others in it—a skill that we sorely need today.
Jackie Curry’s lifelong dedication to this craft is an enormous gift to our society. Her dedication to this discipline reminds us to appreciate non-conformist creativity. Jackie reminds us that to compete 100 percent of the time is not healthy—one can step off of that track to breathe, to move, and to fly. It is hope in the face of many unpleasant things in our world today. We are stronger for it.
Jackie has given this incredible gift to many students as they have grown at Commonwealth. It is a remarkable contribution to the Commonwealth community and to the world at large.
And the rarest of rare, I actually get to say thank you to someone who did so much and whose gift I still enjoy.
Thirty-six years later I still practice these movements with another gifted, generous teacher in Cambridge. Every week. No longer 14, I too will turn 50 next month. I am a CPA, a financial consultant, a mother of 17-year-old twin boys, and a wife. Ballet class allows me to connect to an incredible inner core established a very long time ago. A place of strength, joy and love.