That fall, when everyone was doing back-to-school shopping, I couldn’t have cared less about clothes, and classes, and football games. I was totally consumed with going back to dancing school and my plans for the future. I had convinced my mom to let me start my very own dance company competition team. Obviously, her best students—the teenagers from fifteen to eighteen—were off-limits; they weren’t going to listen to some little kid who was younger than them. But my mom agreed to let me hold auditions for her students between the ages of seven and twelve—coincidentally, the exact age range of the cast of Dance Moms when it began. The original Abby Lee Dance Company was founded in September of 1980, when I was just fourteen years old!
Suddenly I found myself in charge of all these other people’s children and their futures in dance. I was telling their parents what to do, where to go, even which outfit to wear. And they listened. This was a big undertaking, and I felt I had a huge responsibility to make the best dancers possible. It was at this point that I realized I had been given quite an extraordinary gift. My future was sealed, and I was eager to prove myself.
My days were filled with U.S. history and algebra. My nights were spent with history of movement and petite allegros. I might have been your average student during my typical school day, but after school, I was quickly becoming a master teacher. While my friends were looking for a future career in the guidance counselor’s office, I was proving to my colleagues that I had already found my true vocation.
The first group number I entered into the Regency Talent Competition won first place! It may have been another plastic trophy with a victory eagle on top, but the thrill of the win was all I needed.
One thing led to another, and the Abby Lee Dance Company became a force to be reckoned with in the dance community. Over the course of twenty years—and a lot of work—my competition team grew from twelve to one hundred forty-eight, and the level of dance (and drama) continues to grow and flourish. But like the roads in Pittsburgh, the road to success has been filled with plenty of potholes along the way.
I’ve been devastated and defamed, but I’ve never felt bullied. For me, it’s been about proving all those people wrong. It’s made me stronger, smarter, and, let’s face it, superior. I’ve had kids solicited away from me, I’ve had to deal with moms far worse than the ones you’ve seen on TV, and my teams have had to compete in front of judges so biased that even Baryshnikov would be lucky to get a bronze. One of the lowest of lows was discovering that two of my most trusted employees couldn’t cover my classes so that I could be at the hospital when my father underwent emergency brain surgery. Why was this so devastating to me? Because I found out that the reason they couldn’t help me when I needed them most was that they were teaching behind my back at another studio.
But if you had asked me way back then what I thought I was going to do with my life, I would have told you, “I’m going to move to New York City and someone is going to hand over millions of dollars so I can put up a new Broadway musical.” Never did I think I was going to stay in Pittsburgh, PA. Never did I imagine I would spend a million dollars of my own savings—along with a loan from S&T Bank—on a state-of-the-art dance studio in my hometown.
Yet I know that what I do now is why I was put on this earth—it’s my reason for being. Do I want to do more? You betcha. I would like to design costumes that every dancer could wear. I would like to decorate homes—starting with my own! And my dream job is to sell Lear jets—after all, you only have to sell one each year! I know I can explore these and other avenues, because I’m not afraid of hard work.
And I know everything is possible!
When I see talented, beautiful young people just moseying through life, I want to smack their heads together and make them pay attention! Is that what you aspire to be? Lazy and dragging up the rear? The first step to success is visualizing it. Negativity is not permitted in my dance studio (well, not by the students anyway). I want you to close your eyes and see that Broadway marquee with your name blazing across it. It isn’t a fantasy; it’s the start of bigger and better things to come.
Dear Abby:
I was a dancer for twenty years and I know I could help the kids on our dance team do a lot better. We came in fifth place last week! Should I offer my expertise?
Butt out. I mean it sincerely. If you’ve done the research and selected this teacher based on her solid reputation, then let her do her job. And don’t argue. If you’re given a rulebook that says you need a specific brand of dance shoes, get them! Do not be the mom who does her own thing, because the teacher you’ve spent so much time selecting will then hate your kid. Even as the parent, you must learn to follow instructions. No matter what the activity is, you will both have to play the game and be part of the team. You might have seen me spar with Holly on the TV show. Sometimes she wants special treatment for her daughter Nia. Like “You have to teach her this way, you have to teach her that way.” I’m Abby Lee Miller. I don’t have to do anything. Holly wants to teach me how to teach? Really? Does this help her daughter Nia to do better? To do her best? Absolutely not. So my advice to you is to mind your own business . . . or open your own dance studio.
Abby
MY DAUGHTER
by Maryen Lorrain Miller
When Abby was born, her dad said, “I’m going to take over, because I’m used to children. I’m one of six, and you’re one of nothing.” He went on to tell me that I didn’t have any brothers and sisters, nieces or nephews, and therefore, I didn’t know how to take care of a baby. I thought, “Oh, boy. Okay, that’s gonna suit me fine. You can do all the work, buddy!”
Abby was slow to talk. She was three before she said a word and it was “dada” of course. Little did we know that once she started talking, she would never stop. My child was always up to something: putting on shows in the backyard, turning our garage into a haunted house, throwing elaborate carnivals for muscular dystrophy research. Her active imagination kept us both on our toes.
In fifth grade, every kid in Abby’s class was picked to play an instrument. All her girlfriends got the flute, so she wasn’t happy when she got the clarinet. I helped her feel better when I told her that I had to play the trombone all through high school and I had to carry it back and forth uphill in the snow. So her dad and I went out and got the best clarinet with the fanciest case we could find. She learned how to play the clarinet (well, kinda sorta) in the school band as well as from private lessons. During the years that she was in the school band, I had never been to any of her holiday concerts because I was always working late at the dance studio. Eventually there was a concert that I was able to catch. Apparently, the principal had told the band members that the girls were not allowed to wear pantsuits at the upcoming event; they had to wear dresses. So my daughter was sitting with her group of clarinet players, in her pretty dress, up front where everyone could see her . . . with her knees wide open!!! Abby was playing away like nobody’s business. I was trying to get her attention the entire time. I couldn’t wave or yell during the program, so I kept clapping my hands, exaggerating the closure. I kept hoping that she would understand that I was trying to tell her to put her legs together. Shut your legs, Abby—shut your legs! My kid definitely stole the show that day.
When Abby was growing up, she was always in the backline when she danced, and she was never a soloist. I never pushed Abby to be a great dancer. I think too many dance teachers focus on their own kids, and they forget about the kids who are paying tuition. She enjoyed coming to class and had fun interacting with the other students at my studio, and she liked all of her extracurricular activities, but she never really found her niche. One day, when she was just thirteen, Abby came home and announced that she was going to quit all of her activities, even Girl Scouts. I said, “Oh, my goodness. What are you going to do?” I had no idea what this girl was up to.
She replied, “I’m going to be a choreographer.”
I said, “What?!?”
And she said, “Yes
, I’m going to be a choreographer.”
So that same year, Abby took two of my students, who were twin siblings, and one of her close friends, and she taught them a jazz/acrobatic routine specifically for an upcoming competition in Pittsburgh. Abby entered her trio in the contest—and they won! That was it. Abby was hooked. She knew her calling was to be a choreographer and to work with children. She made the decision on her own, and it’s the only thing that she ever stuck with. I am so very proud of all that she has accomplished, the unique ideas she comes up with time after time, and the many lives that she has changed. I can rest easy knowing that my only daughter is independent, successful, and happy. I just wish she’d toss some of those mothers out!
Maryen Lorrain Miller began teaching dance in Miami Beach, Florida, in 1944. Maryen built a successful reputation in Florida as an active member of every major dance organization and a friend to all. Now her great name graces the Reign Dance Productions building, as her knowledge, curriculum, and love live on in the teaching, learning, and succeeding of everyone who enters her school. In the last weeks of life, Maryen dictated her favorite stories.
Maryen Lorrain Miller, July 6, 1927–February 8, 2014
WHAT I LOOK FOR IN A DANCER
Although people think of dancers as being tall and leggy like a Rockette, Broadway performers come in all shapes and sizes, as do the dancers you see in videos or in a concert world tour. What I look for in a dancer is excellent posture; a long leg in which the length from the hip to the knee is equal to the length from the knee to the ankle; natural turnout through the hip socket; a tight, closed rib cage; flexibility in the back, legs, and shoulders; and strength in the center core.
Flaws in a dancer’s body that send up a red flag: pigeon-toed feet, swayback, rounded shoulders, extended rib cage, heavy head, extended chin. A dancer wears a leotard and her hair in a bun so that a teacher can see if she has scoliosis of the spine and make sure her head is properly aligned with her shoulders and tailbone.
A dancer’s foot should have a high arch, a high instep, and be capable of being hyperextended beyond its normal position. Usually the ball of the foot is wide and the heel is very narrow. That makes it difficult to buy normal street shoes, but excellent for pointe shoe fittings.
You never want anything radical like a crazy haircut or strange outlandish hair color or tattoos or piercings. If someone hiring you for a job wants you to look like that, then they’ll imagine you looking like that and they’ll make sure that it’s done with makeup and temporary hair dye or a wig. You want to keep your options open. You want people to be able to look at you doing many different parts.
When you have those beautiful long limbs and that fluidity in your body and the flexibility, usually you make a gorgeous dancer, but you also need the passion, the determination, the parental support, and the musicality. Sometimes a kid who has flat feet and no flexibility, and is awkward yet has the passion and the parental support, ends up being the one who makes it, when the kid who had it all threw it away.
I’ve seen many incredible dancers with remarkable, God-given talent walk right out the door never to dance again and their parents don’t care. That makes me sick—what a waste of talent!
FIND YOUR PASSION
So where do you start? Well, it’s never too early to identify where your talents lie. Some kids are born with tons of interests and hobbies while others struggle to find one. But this I promise you: everyone can be good at something, whether it’s hitting a ball with a bat, painting a still life, or tapping your toes. The younger you are, the more you should explore different avenues. Sitting around playing video games or chatting on Facebook is not going to inspire your mind and soul (unless you aspire to be a video game designer or a social media entrepreneur!). Take a class; try something new. Open your mind to the possibilities. And plan on working hard.
One of my alums, Allie Meixner, showed up on my doorstep when she was just three. She was cute as a button with a sparkle in her eye. Besides being absolutely gorgeous, she had that special quality that draws people in. However, she walked with the same arm and the same foot simultaneously, which was quite awkward! “Oh, boy,” I thought, “this kid might be a model someday, but she is never going to be a dancer!” Allie proved me wrong. She had a passion for dance and an amazing work ethic. She wanted to succeed more than anything else in the world. That kid had to work her booty off to get to where she is today, but she never took no for an answer.
Competition is healthy—it pushes each dancer to get better and better. I think back to all the besties who were really each other’s toughest competition. There were Mark and Michelle, Katie and Kacy, Semhar and Rachel, and Koree and Allie. Who’s Koree? The dancer Allie should thank in her will. There were lots of pretty girls in Allie’s competition group, but the one stunner was her duet partner, Koree Kurkowski. Koree had the look, the legs, and the oh-so-wonderful feet. She was strong and physical and things came easily for her. Koree also never wore the same leotard twice!
When I put her in competition for the Junior Miss Dance title, she earned first runner-up honors, but that year they allowed the winner and the runners-up in each age division to go on to compete at the National Finals. So that summer, Koree had the opportunity to travel with me to the prestigious Nationals in Anaheim, California, and experience all the fun and life lessons with the rest of my regional title winners.
That’s all it took—one kid with one opportunity—to make another kid jealous, or should I be politically correct and say to “inspire” another child? Back home in Pittsburgh, Allie was on a mission to be the best. She got up before school to work out with her mom, and she made her dad drive her to the studio an extra day each week to be a class demonstrator. She added voice lessons to her schedule. Allie went on to earn the titles Petite, Junior, Teen, and Miss Dance of Pennsylvania for the Dance Masters of America, as well as the auspicious National Preteen, Teen, and Senior Miss Dance titles for Dance Educators of America.
When you look like Allie and dance like Allie, you are destined to be the leading lady! Her first professional job out of high school, after passing up a lucrative contract to work in Japan for Tokyo Disneyland, was the national tour of the musical Contact, playing the coveted role of Girl in the Yellow Dress.
Dear Abby:
My daughter is jealous of another girl on her dance team. She says she’s prettier, better, and gets all the best parts and numbers. How can I smooth things out between them?
It’s not your job as a mom to get in the middle of girl fights. Learn that first of all. Second, how about a minimakeover? If the other kid is prettier, get your kid the right haircut, the highlights, and a brand-new leotard. Do whatever it takes, including private lessons. If you end up giving that studio some extra income, your kid’s going to get recognized. Also, your child will become a better dancer—maybe leaving her classmate in the dust.
Abby
START YOUNG
It’s a proven fact that kids who find a passion early in life learn faster than older kids. Most children begin to dance at the age of three, or maybe as early as two and a half if they are really smart, and four if they cling to their mother’s leg.
Doesn’t every little girl twirl around the living room, or walk on her tippy toes, or rock back and forth with the music? Yes, all kids do. Does this mean she is going to be the next prima ballerina or Broadway star? No. But I’m a firm believer that every child should dance—boys too! Dance teaches developmental and social skills that will last a lifetime: how to take turns, listen to others, form a circle, and get in a straight line. Dance introduces musicality and physical exercise. You can start dance classes much earlier than sports or school, and this is often the very first bond of a teacher-student relationship. We have the advantage of getting kids first—before they start soccer practice, student council, or Girl Scouts.
I say enroll your toddler in a dance class and give it at least two months. If he/she is still kicking and screaming and disrupt
ing the class, then you know your child is not ready for formal instruction. If he/she can’t wait to get there each week, then you made the right decision.
Dear Abby:
My daughter says her dance teacher picks on her. She always criticizes her and points out her mistakes. I think I should talk to the teacher about it and get her off my kid’s back. What do you think?
I think you should send that teacher a thank-you note. Obviously, your child has some potential. And the teacher is on her back for a reason. When a child comes home and says the teacher doesn’t even know her name and never corrects her, consider that a wake-up call. Hint, hint—the teacher doesn’t care because the kid doesn’t have it.
Abby
PICKING THE RIGHT DANCE TEACHER
No two dance teachers are alike. Some are warm and fuzzy; some are strict and militant; others are clueless and crazy (sound like anyone you know?). For every excellent instructor out there, there is a charlatan, taking your money without providing your child any decent training. Be smart. You are paying for an education, so make sure you get one! Investigate your dance teacher and choose one just the way you would choose your pediatrician. You’re going to be trusting these people with your kid’s life.
In the United States, dance teachers do not need a license. This is true for all sorts of professionals you might need, from SAT tutors to violin instructors to basketball coaches. You’re going to have to vet them yourself. Google the studio online and check out the reviews. Are customers happy and satisfied? Or do they describe the place as filthy, sloppy, and a waste of time and money? Ask friends who have enrolled their kids there. Some studios will let you take a sample class, arrange a tour, and meet with a teacher to get a feel for what’s expected. The more you know, the better off you’ll be.
Everything I Learned about Life, I Learned in Dance Class Page 2
