Dancing at BU

By Haley Fritz

Dance had always felt as natural to me as breathing until my first ballet class at BU. Prior to arriving on campus, I had danced at the same studio for eight years. I was so used to it, the linoleum tile felt as warm and comfortable as my own bed; I recognized the black-and-white posters of modern dancers as if they were old family photos. I called my teachers by their first names and took the younger girls under my wing, as if they were my little sisters. My dance teacher even felt comfortable enough to swear in front of me, something that would have dropped my jaw back in middle school.

My high school dance teacher was a BU alum with a deep connection to her school – especially to the dance program. She knew and worked with several of the teachers personally, and told me countless stories about their classes. In my mind, there was no question that I would continue my dance education at BU. Her stories got me excited to pursue dance at my new school – not to mention, she wouldn’t have let me hear the end of it if I’d decided to quit.

When I was accepted to BU, one of the first things she wanted to know was which dance classes I was planning to take. That was how I first learned about Margot Parsons’ ballet classes. I learned she was a great, yet challenging, teacher. Still, I shrugged it off with self-assurance, expecting to strut into Fitrec as confidently as I had my high school dance studio. I signed up for her Advanced Beginning Ballet class expecting my movement to remain as organic and fluid as it had been in my old studio at home.

Almost instantly, I learned adjusting to life at BU would not be as painless as I had expected. My first day of ballet, I walked into the classroom to find myself surrounded by unfamiliar faces. Whereas my old studio had felt comfortable and warm, this classroom felt overpowering and harsh. The lights were too bright; the floor was too cold; and the barres were made of heavy metal pipe, instead of the steady wooden rail I was used to.

That first class, I struggled to conquer everything from footwork to floor-work. Though I’d thought I had finally nailed my double-pirouettes, I suddenly felt unsteady on my feet, falling out of every turn I stepped into. Meanwhile, my face blushed bright red as I struggled not to make eye contact with the foreign faces around me.

Starting my first ballet class at BU felt like studying abroad in a country where I didn’t speak the language. Slowly but surely, I had to accustom myself to the culture of my new dance class. For the first few weeks, I stumbled through the choreography as I attempted to rediscover my comfort level in the dance studio.

But somewhere along the way, something magical happened: I transformed as a dancer. My body finally assimilated to all the work, both physical and emotional, I’d been putting it through. Each time I stepped into the classroom, the lights softened; the steps seemed easier. By the end of the semester, I’d regained the balance I’d lost in the transition to college life.

Now that it’s my second semester here, I can’t imagine a week without those linoleum floors or fluorescent lights. To me, that is the value of continuing your dance education in college: it pushes you outside your comfort zone. Eventually, you’ll start to find what once felt uncomfortable starts to feel organic and natural again.