Pointes and Perspective #40 Character Takes Center Stage
Character Takes Center Stage
As many of you know, I’m back in school finishing a degree in Theater Arts, and this past weekend I had the most delightful conversation with one of my professors, Dale Coye. Dale is a playwright, author of Pronouncing Shakespeare’s Words: A Guide from A to Zounds, and a scholar of language, pronunciation, and theatre.
We were chatting about all sorts of things when the subject of etiquette in ballet class slipped into the conversation. If you read my writing regularly, you know I return to etiquette again and again. It is the heartbeat of my teaching, my love, and my mission. Dale tilted his head curiously. He hadn’t realized that ballet carried such a codified sense of etiquette and he asked me to expand. By the end, he was not only intrigued but delighted, and together we found ourselves reflecting on how these rituals of respect intersect with the values of Montessori and Waldorf-style learning, education that grows out of lived experience rather than rote memorization. At the same time, we acknowledged the benefits of more traditional school systems, that dance teaches as well. Learning to adapt to boundaries, to cooperate with people very different from ourselves, to follow rules, and to practice something at the core of human decency - integrity.
I told Dale how much I love teaching etiquette, not because I want students to follow rules for the sake of rules, but because etiquette becomes a way of forming character. When students get it, they begin to enjoy it, almost like a secret code that shapes not only their dancing but also the kind of people they are becoming.
When Dale asked me what ballet etiquette actually looked like, I laughed and said, “Well, my students could rattle it off in their sleep.” It begins the moment the students step into the studio. They must arrive on time, in proper attire, hair neat, ready to work. If one is late, she doesn’t barge in. She waits quietly outside until the music ends, before slipping into her spot at the barre. This isn’t about punishment, it’s about respect. Respect for the teacher, for their peers, for the flow of the work.
Just this past week in a guest class, one young dancer excused herself to use the powder room. Nothing unusual in that. But what struck me was her return. She slipped back into the studio like a shadow, silent and seamless. The next time I circled the room, she was simply there again, as if by magic. No interruption, no distraction, just impeccable respect for the flow of class.
I stopped and praised her in front of everyone. That is etiquette.
The dance studio is silent. There is no chatter, no leaning lazily against the barre. Eyes and bodies are turned toward the teacher, listening, watching, learning. Even the barre itself is treated with respect. It is not a piece of wood bolted to the wall, but a partner - a prince or princess from ballet’s courtly past. When you turn around, you rarely turn your back on it, but rather, turn toward it, acknowledging its presence. The tradition reaches back through centuries, and in every gesture you can feel its echo.
History lingers in other ways, too. In partnering, the gentleman still works to the outside, just as he would have centuries ago, his sword on his left hip, kept clear of his partner, ready to be drawn if he needed to protect her.
The travel patterns also echo stage tradition. When a diagonal combination is finished, dancers don’t march back through the center like pedestrians, they sweep gracefully upstage and around, as they would in performance, behind the curtain, never breaking the illusion for the audience. And when working as a group, the dancers often move counterclockwise so the audience can “read” the choreography like a book, with the movement flowing naturally from left to right.
I went on to explain how students always stay behind their teacher, leaving space for the combination to be shown.There is always a respectful distance, an unspoken acknowledgement that this is her moment to show us, and we are here to watch.
And then there is the ritual of reverence. At the end of class, students bow or curtsy and then applaud, thanking both the teacher and accompanist. Just recently, when I taught a week of guest classes, after one class had ended and the students were heading for the door, a young lady turned back. She walked up, gave me her own private curtsy, and said, “Thank you.” My jaw dropped in a smile of surprise and I told her, “Professionals do this! You just did what seasoned dancers do.” Some of the others overheard, and the next day a few tried it themselves. By the end of the week, there was a little line of students, one after another, smiling as they offered their personal thanks. It became a ripple effect of gratitude and respect.
As Dale listened, he smiled and said it reminded him of the theatre. He was right. The audience, too, waits between scenes to enter the house, remains silent for the performance, and they show reverence with their applause. These little rituals teach us something far larger than theatre etiquette, they teach us integrity.
Ballet is not just pliés and pirouettes. It is a daily practice of who we are becoming. And if my students can carry that forward, to show up on time, to respect their peers, to offer gratitude, I know they will step into the world with character and integrity that shines.
Long before the spotlight finds you…
Character Takes Center Stage.
