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So now, it has happened. You’ve been seen and accepted by someone who wants to pay you for dancing, the one thing you love most in the world, and you’d be quite happy to do it for nothing. You’re actually (say it loud) a dancer, someone who dances, someone whose job it is to dance – no matter how often you tell yourself, you still can’t really quite believe it. You find yourself smiling madly at your reflection in shop windows, or swinging one-handed around lamp-posts like Gene Kelly. People look at you strangely, because you are (for today at least) extraordinary. You have fulfilled your life’s ambitions; few people can say the same. Your dream has been delivered, elegantly wrapped, to your door. Now you’ll have to find out what it really is, and start living it. This is a good feeling.
The teachers at your full-time school will be vicariously delighted for you. To them, your success testifies that they have done their best. All the stress and effort they went through for you were worth it, and have paid off. You do realise, of course, that they have changed your life forever and that none of this would have happened without them? You will thank them? (These things matter, as you may one day find out).
“And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music”.
— Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche, Dancing with Natasha
There’ll be plenty of celebrations. Parents, family, your schoolmates (the ones who have got jobs, and the others who haven’t), the people from your first ballet school, they all want to join in, to congratulate you and tell you how they knew all along that you were destined for greatness. Amid all the fun and festivities, however, try to remember that, actually, the hardest part is yet to come. You’re about to enter a life of which you know, practically nothing. You’ve read about it, and imagined it, seen films about it, dreamed about it, but you’ve never actually experienced it. Soon you’re going to find out what the life of a dancer is really like.
First off, though, you have to get through the end of this last term, and there may be several weeks or months, before you can finally hurl yourself headlong into the world of professional dance. For the moment, life resumes its accustomed prosaic routine. There are still classes to go to, practice gear to wash, rehearsals for the last performance, assessments, evaluations, perhaps teaching practice, written assignments, lots of work, in fact. Try to stay on top of your game in this last phase, and get all of these various jobs done as well as you can. The temptation will be great to ease off just a bit, to coast a little through the work – after all, what difference would it make? You’re a dancer now (well, almost) – do you really need all this school business any more? Does it really matter?
“Contrary to vulgar legend, the lives of great ballerinas are not given up to a few minutes of graceful movement every night, followed by champagne drunk out of their toe-shoes until dawn, in the company of financiers… no, most of their time is spent in filthy rehearsal halls, inhaling dust, or else in class, daily, year in year out, practicing, practicing even after they are already prima ballerinas”.
— Gore Vidal, Death in the Fifth Position
Well, yes it does, very much. If you think life was hard as a ballet student, you ain’t seen nothing yet. It’s a whole lot harder when you’re dealing with the real thing. Don’t even begin to flirt with the idea of cutting corners, or doing anything less than your absolute best, every time. Your imminent career depends entirely on you. You may indeed be headed for great things; you’ll never know unless you try. Go for it, hammer and tongs. Whatever you’re doing, give it your very best shot. There’s no other way; believe me, your chosen profession is not for the lazy or the faint-hearted. Also, your responsibility for your body, your technique, your artistry, all the components of your wonderful, expensive instrument, doesn’t end merely because you’ve got a job. You haven’t finished developing, not by a long chalk; you’ve hardly even started.
“Dance is the only art in which we ourselves are the stuff of which it is made”.
— Ted Shawn, Time Magazine, 25.07.1954.
Also, the people who put this whole miracle together (your teachers, remember?) believe in you and trust you, even the ones whom you didn’t really like. They deserve your continued collaboration in the great adventure of making a dancer. Don’t let them down. They have earned your gratitude; also, they are powerful allies. Throughout your career, you’ll need people who are on your side. Don’t waste them.
And one day, surprisingly fast, it’s all over. The term has finished, the ceremonies have happened, the curtain has fallen, and your last school year is now officially history. People and places so familiar that they have become part of you are now hurtling inexorably into your past, disappearing from your life (some of them, perhaps, for ever). There is unbearable excitement mixed with sadness, as you say goodbye to this place and these people who have meant so much to you. Everyone will promise to stay in touch; some will even do so. Others may disappear until years later, off to other jobs in other places. Fortunately, the dance world is very small, and you’ll see many of them again somewhere.
So now, the moment has almost arrived, and there are lots of practical things to sort out. How are you going to get there, wherever your new show or Company may be? (Even that will take some getting used to, that notion of it’s being “your” Company). You’ll need to work out travel arrangements and everything else – where are you going when you get off the plane (or train, or bus, or ship)? Where will you live? Has it got a kitchen? Will any shops be open when you arrive? What will you do for money until your first payday (there we go again, you see — “your first payday”)? When is payday, anyway? Have you actually been sent (and signed, and kept a copy of, and returned) your contract? How can you open a bank account? What language do these people speak? Will you need vaccinations, or a health certificate, or a visa, or a work permit? What about insurance? What about tax registration, residence permits? Do they want criminal record checks? When do you need to be there? Do you know the address? Have you got a contact number in the Administration? A rehearsal schedule? Do you know what they are going to be rehearsing, or performance dates, tours, holidays? Do you need character boots, castanets, kneepads, a practice tutu? What things do you want to take with you, and what happens to the rest of your possessions? Can it be shipped over there, and if so what would that cost?
The list of questions is endless, and still growing. Suddenly you realise that you need answers, urgently, and that the only person who can find them is you yourself. Better make a list. Write down the questions as they occur to you, read them through and put them into categories. This list is about health stuff, that one deals with travel, this one is about accommodation, the next page covers immigration procedures. Then start ticking them off, one at a time, the most urgent ones first.
Sort out visasa as soon as you can; this may involve a trip to the consulate. They habitually work unpredictable and limited hours, and will close on days which in their country are national holidays even if they’re not in yours — check this before you invest time and money to get there. When you do go, be there as early as possible; it’s a time-consuming business and there may be long queues. Find out what documentation you might need (your contract, for example, or a reference from your new employer), and take it all to the consulate with you.
Your contact in the Company offices will help with addresses, dates and times, and perhaps even temporary accommodation; take whatever help is offered, even if you don’t intend to stay there forever. Remember too that these are busy people, so write down your questions in advance, make a note of their answers, and keep the conversation brief and concise. Bear in mind, too, that the Company may not have a full-time staff (or any staff at all) for the holiday period, so get a fix on this as soon as possible; you are certainly going to need to be able to reach somebody there at some point, and their answering machine may not be geared to your questions.
If you are wise (and of course you are) you’ll get on these jobs right away, the day after school finishes, if not earlier. Do this, and you can relax and enjoy the intervening time in peace; otherwise your life will be fraught with uncertainty and you’ll stress yourself out unnecessarily. Relaxation is a good thing, and you’re probably tired after all the effort and excitement of your last term. Also, in purely physiological terms, rest is a real and important part of your training protocol, and you need to do it.
“Respect your body. Eat well. Dance for ever”.
— Eliza Gaynor Minden
Don’t overdo it, though. This is a time of physical and mental preparation, both. Don’t sleep all day, party all night, and let it all go pear-shaped, which it can do surprisingly fast. After a little resting-time, your body is going to want to move anyway, so do it a favour and make that happen. Your contract will say somewhere that you must be in shape when you get there; once you start, you’ll understand why. Find out if there are some classes you can do while you’re waiting. If you live in or near a city, maybe there’s a dance centre, perhaps your old ballet school is open, possibly there is a summer course going on somewhere, maybe the university has a dance department. Check out the possibilities for staying in shape. If there’s nowhere to dance nearby, could you travel somewhere that offers these facilities? If no options are available, you should (at the very least) stay physically active. You can run or jog, go to the gym, or get out into the sunshine and do some serious walking. You need a minimum of 10,000 brisk steps a day (I know, it sounds like a lot, but you get through them surprisingly soon). You can swim, bicycle, play tennis; whatever does it for you. Be sensible and be careful though; don’t injure yourself trying to stay in shape — you’ll regret it for a long time. Do sensible hydration and nutrition, get eight hours of good-quality sleep. You’re going to need this body for a long time. It’s your meal-ticket and your future, so treat it like the serious investment it is, and don’t take chances with it.
You should also deal with the language question. Unless English is official in the place where you’re going, you will know by now what language is used there. Perhaps within the Company, classes and rehearsals are in English. Perhaps not, however, and in many countries you will struggle if you don’t know at least some of the lingo. Even if the rehearsal directors speak English, the pianist, or the conductor, or the choreographer, or your partner may not, and you’ll lose points and miss out on valuable opportunities. Also it makes you feel really stupid if people are perpetually having to translate for you, and it’s the kiss of death for your self-confidence and your social life. You won’t be able to read the rehearsal schedule or any notices on the callboard, or explain what you need at the stage door, or take a bus, read a newspaper, do anything but the most rudimentary point-and-mime kind of shopping or talk to a policeman, a doctor or a taxi-driver. It is a kind of isolation, and can make you feel very lonely, to the point where you miss out on a lot of the friendship and fun of your new life. Also, you’ll feel a lot safer if you understand what’s going on around you. So make a start now on learning some basics, while you’re waiting. Every bookshop has teach-yourself books, box-sets, CDs, DVDs; have a look round now, and get started. There apps for your mobile, lectures on YouTube, all sorts of possibilities. Get two dictionaries as well; a pocket one to bring with you and a bigger one for home. A small phrase-book with common expressions in day-to-day situations (taxi, restaurant, bank, travel) which you can carry with you would also be useful. You might even enjoy researching their regional cuisine and customs.
As time passes, process of getting ready becomes more and more exciting. Clothes-buying, for one thing, and here you’ll need to be bright about all that new kit. If your destination is bathed in perpetual sunshine, travelling light is easy, but most places aren’t. Don’t try and acquire an entire year’s wardrobe because it’ll never fit into your bags. You’d need a container for all that gear; get what you need for now, and bring one or two warmer things as well – there are probably clothes shops where you’re going.
And finally, the great day arrives. You’ve said all your goodbyes, got everything and everyone sorted out. Of course you’re completely prepared, aren’t you? You’ve got tickets, the up-to-date passport, visas, vaccination certificates and immigration stuff all ready in a bag or wallet (which you will not let out of your sight). If you regularly use medications, you’ve got a supply of them and a prescription for when you run out (including inhalers and all that lot as well) For contact lenses, you’ve packed the original prescription so you can buy new ones; that goes for glasses as well. There’s a copy of your contract in your hand luggage, you’ve got some money, and you know how and where to get more when you arrive. You know when your train, plane, ferry or will leave, when and where to check in. Your luggage is the necessary weight and size, you’re not carrying anything prohibited, you’ve got a mobile phone so people can reach you .You’ve got permission to use the Company offices for a temporary postal address If someone is meeting you at the other end, you know who they are and how to recognise them? (This is important).
Right then, let’s go.
“The Gods have meant
That I should dance
And by the Gods
I will”.
— Ruth St. Denis
One more thing. Although you’re now officially a dancer, and therefore a mature, professional, independent, card-carrying adult, it can feel lonely to leave your home, family, friends, country, language and safe places behind, to head off into the unknown. You wouldn’t be the first person to find themselves frightened and homesick, about now. It’s quite normal to feel that way, and there’s nothing wrong with you. Be a little careful, though; you’re vulnerable in this state of mind. Body language says a lot about you, so don’t confide in strangers, don’t let yourself get into some sort of compromising situation, stick to your plan. You want someone who knows when and where you’re supposed to be going, someone else who is making sure that you get there at the agreed time, and someone who is expecting you at your accommodation. Make sure you stay on the radar, so that if anything unexpected or alarming happens in this unfamiliar place, people will be able to react and sort it out. Keep in touch; if something in your travel plan changes (missed or delayed flight, dock-workers’ strike, train cancellations) let people know a.s.a.p., before they start to worry and alert the emergency services.
© Jeremy Leslie-Spinks
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