I forced myself to sit up and immediately called my mom, tears in my eyes. As we exchanged emotional squeals over the phone, I realized my Dartmouth decision had been posted as well. Still on the phone, I anxiously grabbed my computer and logged into Banner. Are you kidding me?
The decision to come to Dartmouth was one of the most difficult I have ever had to make. The process was particularly agonizing, because it seemed as though my decision to attend Dartmouth had the potential to throw away my dream of a professional dance career. My acceptance left me at a fork in the road.
At the age of three, I began studying dance at the Ailey School in New York City, founded by the legendary dancer and choreographer Alvin Ailey. The school sits beneath the modern dance company, Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater, which brilliantly graced the stage of Moore Theater this March.
From a young age I had always been painfully shy. When my mother put me in dance classes, I felt uncomfortable and nearly betrayed as I was forced into weekly sessions with dozens of strangers. Finally, after a month of torment, dance class became the highlight of my week.
As I grew older I began to worship the Ailey company. Anytime a dancer would glide through the halls, my entire body tensed up. My attempt at a polite smile became a look of pure terror. That was my idea of celebrity. I could sing every word to Ailey's most famous piece, "Revelations," and knew nearly all of the choreography that accompanied it.
Once I got to high school, I was attending dance classes six days a week and had advanced to the pre-professional level as a fellowship student. Suddenly my objective was clear: I would work to become a professional dancer. Every performance I went to brought tears to my eyes. I wanted to be the girl who made the audience gasp as she leaped through the air. One day that would be me.
Unfortunately, it wasn't that simple. As freshman year turned to sophomore, sophomore to junior, college increasingly became the most frequent topic of discussion. In my extremely academically-oriented private school on the Upper East Side of New York City, those who hoped to pursue a career in the performing arts were definitely in the minority. While the performing arts program at my high school was better than most in the city, for many people at the school their artistic endeavors had an expiration date.
While my friends at Ailey attended performing arts high schools, which often fed them directly into professional dance or dual-degree programs, a large number of my peers at Dalton sought out some of the most competitive and selective colleges in the country. I was completely torn. My friends were telling me that I had to go to Tisch because they could not imagine me doing anything else with my life, but I was scared. A dance career is incredibly taxing both mentally and physically, with absolutely no guarantees, and is typically very short-lived. One bad injury and you are done.
While dance had always been my passion, I loved academics. At Dalton, comparative literature excited me. My teachers confronted topics related to gender and sexuality manifested in James Baldwin's "Giovanni's Room," while calculus was sometimes the highlight of my school day. I wasn't quite willing to give that up either. When I went back to visit Dartmouth, my main goal was to figure out how I would be able to fit dance into my daily routine. I was slightly discouraged when I found out how difficult it would be to find a ballet class on campus, but through a twist of fate, I ran into a member of Sugarplum while chatting with another '13 in KAF and, without hesitation, she invited me to watch their rehearsal that evening. The girls were supportive, and the environment was warm.
While vastly different from the rigorous dance atmosphere I was used to, I had a feeling that this was an opportunity for me to put my love of dance to the test. Hours outside of any major city, I would have to work to get what I wanted and to grow, perhaps in unexpected ways, as a dancer. My decision to attend Dartmouth was not closing the door on my dance career, but giving it texture and challenges, like adjusting to the lack of appropriate dance spaces and classes, that force me to make tough sacrifices. I plan to continue dancing throughout my time here and, once I graduate, find my way back to center stage.
Through the Looking Glass is a weekly feature and welcomes submissions from the Dartmouth community. If interested, email mirror@thedartmouth.com.
