Putting it all together

As we gear up for the start of a new and exciting season of Classes at RDT I wanted to share a reflection I wrote during a class session last year. A reminder that there are some things worth our commitment and practice. A reminder of the process of "putting it all together", in the studio and in life.

Almost every dancer knows the feeling.

You walk into class ready to go across the floor, eager to learn that fancy new step, nail your pirouettes, or hit that jump just right. You want to get to the "good part". To show what you can do. To shine.

But class, every time, starts the same:

That damn warmup.

Slow pliés.

An hour of slow, unforgiving footwork at the barre. Careful, precise movement in center. Fine-tuning every detail before—if you’re lucky—getting to put it all together at the end in a final combination or bit of choreography.

So why not just skip to the good stuff?

Why not spend the whole class on choreography and hope they “catch” the technique along the way?

Because I’ve learned:

You can’t skip steps.

You can’t work in reverse.

There are some things—some time, some effort, some repetition—you simply have to go through if you want the real results.

We don't always say this out loud, but I think we should, and say it with our chest:

"I want to look good."

"I want to shine."

"I want to show the world what I can do."

But before you get to do that, there’s some stuff you must do.

And here’s the truth: those things—those foundations—are what make everything else possible.

Right now, I’m watching another round of once “little girls” grow.

They’re starting to master the basics.

They’re starting to feel their own power.

And I can see it in their eyes—they’re hungry for more.

So, today, I structured class as a rhythm.

Each exercise built on the last.

From the first plié, they were activating muscles, mastering balance, lifting as they lowered, turning out from the hip, holding their arms with intention. All the things they’d need for what came next.

And I kept telling them:

Everything in life has a rhythm.

If you can figure out the rhythm, you can figure out everything else.

What I want them to grasp is something I hope we all remember one day as a people:

The complex things?

They're just a series of little, simple things stacked on top of each other.

It’s what we learned in kindergarten:

How to talk to people.

How to share the sandbox.

How to laugh, to listen, to ask questions, to try again.

How to feel proud of ourselves.

How to show up.

Today wasn’t just about pliés.

It was about helping them recognize the pattern.

To feel the rhythm.

To understand that “the good part” doesn’t come after the work—it is the work.

Same rhythm.

Different day.

But always… building.

-Mr. David