I play for 8 ballet classes a week, 4 pointe classes, 1 variation, and 1 character class. It's a proud and content feeling I have to be in the position of doing what I love professionally, and one I hope to never take for granted and always strive to become better. At one time, it was just a daydream that I could be paid to play piano, or to record an original album of my very own with a New York City recording label. And yet somehow, it's become a dream come true, and new dreams for the future are ever forming in my head.  During a ballet class, while watching young, aspiring ballerinas perfect their technique, I heard the teacher describe the Arabesque position. It is one of the most beautiful, graceful, and difficult poses in ballet in which the dancer's arm creates a long, lean line in front of their body. The fingers must be just the right amount of relaxed, yet shaped with precision. The leg needs to stretch. The foot must not be sickled. The toes fiercely pointed. ...

For weeks, I've watched a little girl with lopsided pigtails come to ballet class. She wears a tiny white leotard and tights that sag on her small, 4 year old frame. Before each class, she says a tearful goodbye to her mother at the door and makes her way to the wooden barre. Although distraught at the separation, she remains absolutely obedient to the instructions of the teacher. Through weepy eyes, she skips across the floor, all while clutching a wadded up tissue in her fist. When her eyes become too misty, she dabs them while marching in rhythm to the music of The Nutcracker. Occasionally, an audible sob emerges, but she never strays from performing each exercise perfectly. Last week, the familiar scene unfolded with a slight change. Instead of a kiss goodbye, her mother stepped into the classroom holding a brightly colored dog.  "Now, where should we put Stuffy?" her mother asked. "Right here by the piano, so he can watch over you?" The little girl silent...

As a ballet accompanist, I am always trying to expand my repertoire so the dancers don't hear my same pieces over and over. I've found that every instructor wants something different. Some prefer more classical, some prefer music from actual ballets, but most don't care what I play as long as it fits the rhythm and feel for the combination.  One thing I enjoy doing, is taking a song I've known for years, and discovering it can have a "ballet make-over" and sound completely new. This song was like that. Because of the chord progressions, square phrasing, and 3/4 time signature, it made a perfect adagio when I slowed it way down and added some languid arpeggios. Like most of my improvisation, the result seems to be the love child of a dark, angry Russian, and Honky-tonk music. See if you can hear what song it is. I play the familiar melody about a third of the way through... I'm sure most of you will get it, but just in case, I'll post the answer tomo...

I have so many magical moments that I accidentally see from my corner at the piano when I play for the Beginner's Ballet class. Here is another. ~~ The 5 year olds had a substitute teacher, a serious looking, tall Russian man with a thick accent. A bit intimidating compared to their regular, petite ballerina instructor. "How you make  plie ?" He boomed to the little girls. They struggled to understand his words. A few picked up on it though, and they demonstrated a  plie , squatting clumsily in their white tights that sagged on their tiny bodies. They giggled at his funny voice, snickering through their nose behind their hand, as if that would mask their silliness. At this level, the girls were still learning the difference between left and right. It was a 50/50 shot in the dark, and something they weren't too interested in getting it right. "Fiyrst (first), we do combination to za right, zen to other side." He explained. I wanted to tell him ...

I love playing piano for ballet rehearsals. It was something that intimidated me at first and took me a few months to understand and get used to, but now I feel pretty confident every time I go into work that I know just what the instructor is looking for out the pianist. I let the tiniest things get to me however, and when someone mentioned that I may want to try and learn more "classics" to play, I began to doubt myself. I like to take the songs I already know and put a new spin on them, like  Hotel California , music from Disney movies, and other out of the box songs. I've gotten positive feedback doing this too. (Though I have also forced myself to learn Coppelia, Esmerelda,  Giselle , and Raymonda Ballet music. Never thought I'd ever play anything like that!)  I'm one of the few non-Russian pianists on staff and when I hear the others play Chopin, or Rachmaninoff from a studio down the hall I shrink down to about 2 inches. So, this week, bound and determine ...

One day, the 7-year old Intermediate Ballet class I play piano for, had a substitute teacher. Though the little girls didn't realize it, they were quite privileged to have  this  instructor. A famous Russian ballerina who now taught the professional dancers that made up the ballet company. Immediately I could sense this would be a different class than the girls were used to, for this teacher was disciplined and focused and was used to nothing less than the full attention and hard work from her students, no matter what their age.  From my seat behind the piano, I watched the girl's faces as they struggled to understand the higher-level of combinations from their new teacher. I saw some grow frustrated, confused, and some gave up. But for as much as these girls were not used to their new teacher, their new teacher was not used to the inexperienced girls, and continued her class as if she were teaching her skilled adult company.  In the middle of the class, the i...

I learn many things from observing ballet class behind the comfort of my piano. I learn some  french words . I learn how to play a "square" combination. And I learn what  not  to do, to get little girls to behave. The instructor told the girls in the  beginner's class  to pay attention. "Calm down!" She said. "Stop wiggling!"  A spark of amusement rippled through the line of young girls. "Wiggle!" They laughed. What a silly word. What a silly, fun movement it implied. They of course had to demonstrate a wiggle. They squirmed their shoulders, bobbed their heads, and rocked their knees, all in an effort to create the perfect "wiggle."  The instructor immediately realized her mistake. She rolled her eyes in defeat. It was hopeless now.  Later, after the instructor successfully got them half way through bar exercises, she noticed they were bunched up in one corner. She attempted to space them out evenly. "Girls, slide down."...

Anyone who struggles with worry or anxiety knows that there is no break from it. Despite reassuring myself, reasoning with myself, and preparing the best I know how for everything, I'm constantly surrounded by feelings of self doubt, nervousness, and apprehension. Even though I've been playing for a ballet school and company for five months now, I still feel butterflies every time I go to work. I'm so thankful for the job, and so surprised I got it, that I'm terrified the other shoe will drop . I'm probably the most inexperienced pianist on staff. I feel pretty comfortable with most of the instructors, but occasionally I play for an instructor I've never met, and that's when things can go not-so-smooth. Everyone likes their class to run their own way and they have a certain taste of music they prefer. The other day I was asked to stay for an extra class, which I agreed to do. I walked into the classroom, hoping to see an instructor I've played for befo...

I love the moments that I "accidently" see. They're not planned, rehearsed, or expected, and I'm lucky enough to be a third party onlooker, and later describe them:   The ballet instructor was feeling the stress in her intermediate class of 10-year-olds. Energy and excitement was high tonight, and focus and obedience was low. She loved her class, and told them so every week. They loved her too, you could see the respect in their youthful attitudes. She was the kind of teacher who honestly cared if her students learned, and when she had to discipline and be stern, she wanted them to know it was only to better them as dancers...and people, for she cared about them outside of her dance class.  One little girl sat on the side this evening due to an injury. Her foot was bothering her so bad, she could barely stand. And she watched as the instructor struggled to gain control of the rambunctious  class. In an uncharacteristic moment of frustration, the instructor announ...

One of my favorite things about being a "musician," as opposed to a "performer" (I alternate between the two, depending on the gig), is the laid back role of being in the background. When I play for ballet class, the focus is on the teacher and dancers and no one really notices that the music they're dancing to comes from the pianist in that dark, aloof corner. I love it. I notice things that no one wants me to, or thinks I can, almost like being behind a two-way mirror.  The Saturday beginners' class is filled with about twenty four-year old girls in pink tights and leotards with their hair up in glittery curls and buns -- and one little boy. He keeps to himself. While the others are chattering and carrying on, he remains attentive to instruction and mimics the teacher's movements with precision and focus. Often the instructor will catch herself abruptly, "Okay girls, move to your --- and boy --- move to your left," with an apologetic glance...

One of the best things about being a musician is no nine to five. No one expects a piano player to play for 8 hours straight anywhere...well, I do play for 7 hours at a time for ballet class once a week. But otherwise, the flexibility in my schedule is something I would never trade. On days like today, when I have nowhere to play, I still punch the proverbial clock and put my hours in...practicing.  I recently attended a performance of Giselle by the New Jersey Ballet Company, and I must say, I fell in love. I scoured the internet for sheet music but all I could find was a copy of the full score. I spent the day deciphering the french words, trying to figure out which act and scene went where. I even had google translator open. Finally, when I figured out a section to begin practicing I realized, duh, many scores have 2 piano parts, or p rima and s econda . The melody doesn't quite come out right unless both are played at the same time, and I'm only one little person....

They say the best way to learn a new language is to be completely submerged in the culture. Be forced to hear and speak only that language. And before you know it, you'll be asking where the bananas are in that foreign tongue! I was shocked to learn this is true for the world of ballet as well. After almost 2 months of playing for ballet rehearsals , I'm finally catching on to what in the world they're talking about. As an accompanist, I have to pay very close attention to the words (mostly French) and demonstrations of the instructor in order to choose an appropriate song to play for the combination. There have been several times when I've played an introduction and the instructor stopped me, "Nope, wrong kind of rhythm for  tendu ..." Yesterday, I walked down the hall to my living room and suddenly had the urge jump up onto one tip-toe with my arms rounded in front of me and finger tips touching. Eddie looked up from the computer, puzzled at the abrupt mot...

I spent my drive home from work measuring the events of my day, placing them on a figurative scale and adding them up like Weight Watchers points. Let's just say that one side of the scale had a whole lot more stuff on it than the other. First, it's drill weekend with the Army so my husband has been out of town for 2, going on 3 days. Next, I woke up late this morning and  rushed off to work without so much as a cup of coffee or breakfast. I also didn't have time to pack anything, so that meant I would go without a morsel of food all day until almost 5 pm. Then let's see. Oh yes, I got  pulled over. And then, oh right, I had an expired insurance card (by 6 days). Which inevitably led to me being late for work. I had a monstrous 7 hours playing for ballet rehearsal today. I let my own self doubt and paranoia get the better of me again . It seemed like every song I played was the wrong style or tempo, and soon I felt like the walls were closing in on me and I didn...

“Now I’ve brought presents for all of you girls,” the ballet instructor announced to the jittery young dancers at the beginning of class. “It’s a decorative, small pouch that you can use to place your jewelry in while you dance.” The girls seemed pleased with the small token and flocked to the laid out selection, eager to choose a color. There was pink, purple, white, gold, and brown. The girls, though young, were as elegant as swans in their dance apparel, tall, thin, and with skin as smooth and light as cream. One girl reached the pouches last, and found that the pretty colors had already been selected. She hesitantly reached for the final one that remained, brown. There weren’t many times when she experienced this uncomfortable feeling, her skin conspicuously different from the others. But when she did, she wished she could hide for a moment until she felt the stares stop. Her head down and shoulders slumped she studied the brown pouch. “Oh my goodness!” the instructor suddenly ga...

I sat at the piano in the very first ballet class for the youngest beginners, no older than 4 and 5. I watched quietly as the teacher tried to settle the girls who explored the large room with excitement and wonder. They wore their brand new pink leotards and white tights, just taken out of the package today. Their mothers had brushed their hair into a ponytail, then twisted the loose ends into a pink, sparkly hair wrap. Bobby pins held the wispy hairs tight to their heads. The girls wandered inside, taking notice of their elegant appearance in the wall-sized mirrors, as if today was the ultimate of all “dress-up” days. They grasped the wooden bar, and mimicked the movements they’d seen ballerinas do on TV. The girls jumped up and down like popcorn when they finally took notice of the teacher, tall, sophisticated, and graceful. She wore a chiffon black skirt around her waist that gently swayed with each movement, and satin pointed shoes with pink ribbons that laced up around her ankl...

On my second day at my new job as a pianist for a ballet school and company , I found myself struggling through the combinations. I thought that certainly after some practice, the job would become easier, but I suddenly found myself over thinking the counts, struggling with intros, and having trouble “squaring off the piece.” I was worried the instructor was getting frustrated at the disruptions. Even worse, the owner of the company, made visits in and out of the class room and I was certain she noticed my fumbles. The mirrored room reflected my image like a string of paper dolls. Every missed count echoed against the walls. Every mistake was magnified by a hundred. When the night was over, the owner very seriously pulled me aside and asked, “Can you stay a bit after?” I nervously replied that I could and she motioned for me to walk back to her office. As I sat there waiting for her to enter, I actually texted Eddie, “I think I’m about to get fired.” I silently prepared my plea for ...

My first day as a pianist for the New Jersey School of Ballet was not a disaster, so I guess that would make it a success? I never thought that sitting at a piano for 7 hours could be so exhausting. And I do mean 7 hours, not so much as a 5 minute break between classes. Each class demanded continuous music from the first exercise to the final minute, to include warm ups, cool downs, and stretching. Midway through the day, the company owner noticed me stretch my aching back and brought a seat cushion for the unforgiving, wooden piano bench. The instructor periodically reminded the dancers, "Tummies in! Head up!" And every time he did, I found that my own posture miraculously improved. As I expected, the learning curve was steep. I quickly found that many of the pieces I practiced did not fit the atmosphere or style of the classes, so I was forced to play certain songs over and over. Once, I was caught like a deer in the headlights when the instructor raised his hand, cueing...

In the Army, we used the expression, “fake the funk,” a phrase I always thought sounded gross for some reason. But it basically means, if you don’t know what the heck you’re doing, act like you do and people generally won’t notice the difference. This is something I fear I will be doing in my new position as a ballet class accompanist for a few weeks until I get the hang of things. I observed a class today and was exhausted by the end of the 1 ½ hour session just watching the pianist. The mental focus of reading the instructors mind, and silently counting with the accuracy of a metronome totally drained me. And on my first day, I’ll be playing for about 8 hours straight. I’m praying there’s a lot of children’s classes scheduled for Saturday. (Can you ballet to the Itsy Bitsy Spider?) When I got home, I tore apart my horribly overstuffed and disorganized music shelf for anything that sounded a little more ballet-ish. I would imagine there might be some funny looks when the inst...

Somehow, someway, I got a job as a pianist at a very prestigious ballet school and company  as an on-staff accompanist. I responded to the add, like so many others, one of a dozen expecting never to hear from them. But one day they called me in for an audition . Caught completely off guard, I asked what sheet music they would like me to play. The director explained that it's not so much what you play, but how you play it. The accompanist must watch the ballet instructor as she demonstrates an 8 count dance combination for the class. Based on her vocabulary (adagio, degage, etc) and physical movements, the pianist chooses an appropriate 8, 16, or 32 bars to play. When I drove in for the interview/audition, I observed an experienced accompanist and scribbled notes on a scratch piece of paper for future reference as he skillfully played without question or hesitation for each combination. The class moved so quickly, I was sure I would never get the hang of it. The director ...