Our Students

A Reflection of Us

The Gift of a Teacher

By Charles Kelley

I started acrobatic classes at the age of eight with a local studio in a small Connecticut city. They were conducted by a young (seventeen-year-old) girl. My first year as a once a week student did not make me much of an acrobat, but the desire was there and I continued into a second year—in which my mother insisted that I add “tap dancing.”

I was using a restaurant owned by friends of my parents to “practice” my tap dancing in the early afternoons and patrons in the bar on the other side of the restaurant would look in and throw nickels and dimes on the floor and applaud. Seems that my teacher found out and confronted my mother, stating, “Any monies earned by her students had to be shared with her.” Needless to say, my mother’s temper flared and we left the studio.

We went immediately across the street to “the competition”—the “other” dance studio. Evelyn R. Macfarlane ran it. Somebody was looking out for me, as it was the beginning of my love and dedication to dance taught to me by this woman.

I had to take a private lesson to see where I should be placed, since the season was already half done. I went into a second-year tap class and basic acrobatic class. I was the worst one in the tap class and as well in the acrobatic class. Seems like all we had done at the former school was to work on the recital dances.

I went from once a week tap and acro to twice a week and a private to catch up, and then before I knew it, I was at the studio every day. Miss Evelyn gave me a job to “clean” the studio each night and on Saturday after the last class finished. All for $2.00 per week, which is what my private lesson cost. So I paid for the private and my mother paid for the classes, which were then seventy-five cents each.

At thirteen, I started to help Miss Evelyn with the pre-school classes on Saturday and before I knew it, I was assisting in other classes as well. I turned fourteen, and Christmas was just around the corner. At the annual Christmas party, Miss Evelyn gave those who worked at the studio small gifts. I was devastated at the party because when all the gifts were given out I did not receive one. I went home and told my parents; my mother casually said, “You must have done something wrong,” and let it pass.

As was usual in our family, on Christmas morning my father put all the gifts into piles—one for him, one for mom, one for my sister. I did not have any gifts!

After each of them opened their presents my mother said to me, “You have nothing, but maybe there’s something in the tree.” There was not. Then she said she thought there was an envelope and maybe it had fallen behind the sofa. I quickly pulled the sofa out, and there, pinned to its back, was an envelope. It was my Christmas gift from my parents and Miss Evelyn.

Miss Evelyn had written a letter to me saying that I was her most apt student and that she felt that I had progressed as far as I could under her tutoring; that it was time for me to further my study of dance at a higher level. She had enrolled and paid for me to attend the six-day Jack Stanly Christmas Workshop in New York City (along with the train transportation), where I would take classes in tap technique, tap routines, acrobatics, and ballet. My parents paid for the hotel and food costs as my present from them.

This exceptional lady, Miss Evelyn, had opened the door to what would be my career in life—dancing and, most important, teaching. She stressed not only teaching me to dance but by using me as an assistant, that my true calling was teaching. I went back to spend my high school years teaching for her and commuting to New York to study every Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, and summer until I finally moved there after graduating.

Miss Evelyn closed her studio and retired to Florida, I started working professionally, and when I returned from a stint with the US Army, I told her I was going back to Willmantic to open a school. She once more wrote me a letter, urging me to stay in New York and do what she felt I was destined for—teaching and improving dancers and teachers at the professional level. And once more I followed through on what she urged and this year will be my forty-second year teaching on Broadway.

Thank you, Miss Evelyn, who in all rights was my second mother.

Closest To Home
By Mia Michaels

At this time I am sitting next to my father in the last days and breaths of his life. And [I know that he] will always be an artistic extension of dance and movement through me.

From Work To Art
By Gus Giordano

When I start thinking about my first teachers, I think of Minette Buchman in St. Louis, Missouri. Although in retrospect she wasn’t a great teacher, she got me my first jobs as a dancer. At age twelve, I was dancing on a stage at the Forest Park Highlands amusement park, where her husband ran the outdoor theater and her son played the drums. Every weekend in good weather, we were there doing pieces like the comic La Camparcita. Of course, at age twelve, I was already teaching my own dance classes in the basement of my home, charging my friends fifty cents [per class].

For a truly inspirational teacher, I had to wait until I went to New York and studied with Hanya Holm [modern dance pioneer and Broadway choreographer]. From her I learned that dance is more than a job, that it can be a work of art as beautiful and worthy as art in any other field.

Understanding And Using The Passion
By Bill Bohl

I hold great admiration and respect for all teachers I have trained with, yet the one who truly inspired me to understand the passion behind my dancing was educator Jackie Sleight. Being a male dancer has advantages, but Jackie was the one who taught me to use my talent and strengths as a dancer to achieve my goals and not just use the benefits of being a male dancer. The hard work, painful times, dedication and the passion of her training have helped me achieve the dreams I have made a reality. I thank her and love her for sharing her gifts with me because now I have an opportunity to do the same with others.

But For Her, A Different Path?
By Frank Hatchett

At age twelve, I used to escort my sister “Sisso” to dance class at our local community center. I remember being mesmerized by the tap rhythms. One day the teacher was late and I got up to show off for my sister and the other students in the class. The teacher walked in and busted me, but instead of scolding me for being on the dance floor, she complimented me and suggested that I join the class. I quickly said “No!” but she stayed on my case and finally convinced me to take semi-private lessons with  my sister.

I really excelled in track and field and she told me how the dancing would benefit me in sports. Her encouragement kept me in dance class and she had the expertise of handling me as a male student. Many times, I see male students who just blend in with the females, even sometimes in the same costume. I think that is why a lot of them quit. However, I was always spotlighted as the male in the group, which cut down the outside teasing and razzing.

I often think of, and still see my first dance teacher, Miss Mary Morlock. I love introducing her and watching the reactions of my students. I realize what she did for me in the beginning and wonder what would have happened with a different teacher.

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