Wise or Dated?

When You Wake Up and Realize You’re the Old Teacher

When I opened my first dance studio almost 25 years ago, I made a vow to myself: I would never become that teacher.

You know the one — the teacher who says things like, “Back in my day…” or teaching class from a chair with their arms folded.  I swore I’d never roll my eyes at a new trend or grumble about choreography that lives mostly on social media. Nope. I was going to stay fresh, current, and forever cool.

I always wanted to be a leader. An innovator. The one always pushing boundaries.

And yet… here I am… Feeling 50 inch closer and closer, with pink hair that can’t quite hide the grey underneath, and moods that fluctuate with the same intensity as a dramatic contemporary combo. Somewhere between hot flashes and high kicks, I’ve been wrestling with the idea of aging.

Does getting older mean becoming wise and graceful? Or does it just mean slowly fading into the background music of life? I refuse to fade. Maybe changing color (like my constantly changing hair color). But I vow to always stay bright. 

Fast forward to today. I’m having coffee with a friend and I hear myself say, “When I started doing this, I wanted to prove that I could. Now I do it to prove that I still can.” And right there, I had to laugh. Because somewhere along the line, I became that teacher.

Not the cranky one in the corner, but the one who can’t help telling stories from “back in the day.” The one who drops bits of advice disguised as friendly conversation. The one who, without meaning to, sounds “wise”. (Which, let’s be honest, is just a nice word for “seasoned.”)

Here’s the truth: I don’t think I’ve become dated. I think I’ve evolved… and will always be evolving. 

I still take class. I still study movement. I still learn from dancers half my age and teachers twice as bold. Because the moment we stop being students — that’s when we really age out. And I refuse to do that.

Just last weekend, I was teaching at a dance convention when I met another faculty member. I asked, “Have we met before?” and she smiled and said, “Kind of… I took your class when I was a kid — and it was my favorite.” Cue the mix of pride and mild panic that comes with realizing you’re now the “old lady” on faculty. 

And last summer, when my dear friend and Boulder Jazz Dance Workshop co-director, Rachael Harding, and I were planning our “Legacy Day” — a day to honor the teachers who’ve had a lasting impact on our dance community — I told her, “You know, Rach… we are the legacy now.” We both laughed, but it was one of those moments that lands deep. Because it’s true.

So maybe I am the “old teacher” now — but if I am, I’m the kind who can still do a solid triple pirouette (but don’t ask me to lift my leg above 90°), laugh at myself, and choreograph something new tomorrow.

Wisdom doesn’t mean you’re out of touch. It just means you’ve been in touch long enough to know what really matters.