Irish Dance Fans will Benefit from Feis America Magazine, IrishCentral Merger



Feis America Magazine and IrishCentral announced today that they are merging. 

From the press release: "The goal is to make IrishCentral and Feis America the leading global site for Irish dance information including; live coverage, blogs, videos, audio, photos, competition results, upcoming events calendar and insightful stories."

"Said Niall O’Dowd, Publisher of IrishCentral, 'This is a perfect alliance for both companies as we strengthen our coverage of Irish events and further introduce a whole new generation to their Irish roots and wonderful heritage. Adding Kathleen to our editorial team, together with the Irish Voice Newspaper and Irish America Magazine, solidifies IrishCentral as the Internets' leading source for 'everything the Irish like'."

Congratulations to both IrishCentral and Feis America Magazine.

Why You Should Teach Me to Dance

Molly Bennett and adult dancers from the Bennett School of Irish Dance

This article was first published in the March/April 2011 issue of Feis America Magazine.

Teachers of Irish dance across the country are asking themselves: Should I teach adults? An increasing amount of teachers are adding adult classes to their curriculum as adults trickle into the growing tide of Irish dancers. Molly Bennett, of the Bennett School of Irish Dance in Denver, Colorado, teaches a large group of adults. "Adults love what they are doing and reinvigorate the Irish image," she says, "We should be doing more teaching aimed at anyone who wants to dance."

Molly Bennett and the Bennett School's adult team

Molly encourages other TCRG’s to take the time to teach adults and realize the benefits adult dancers will bring to their schools. Adult dancers are consistent and enduring, they contribute much-needed funds to their studios, and provide valuable volunteer work that benefits the entire Irish dance community.

When adults pick up a love for Irish dancing, they stick with it. Long after the junior champs have left their school to pursue other interests, adult dancers are found stomping the studio floor. Molly understands the stability that adults bring to a dance school, "Adults will decide if they like an activity, and if they do like it they will continue to come consistently; even through snowstorms!"

Bennett School adults

When adults get involved in dancing, they bring along friends, family and their children; resulting in monetary support not only for their schools, but the Irish dance community as a whole. While there are plenty of younger dancers, the adults (dancing and non) are the ones funding the lessons, costumes, and feis fees. In a declining economy, the adult members of a school can give security. Molly says, “If there is anxiety over the declining numbers of students in our schools and at our feiseanna, we should be opening our doors to any and all who are interested.”

Dance schools require hours of behind-the-scenes work, and adult dancers are found chipping in whenever help is needed. Because of their dedication, senior dancers often act as go-to helpers for their teachers. They can be found making posters, heading up fundraisers, scheduling shows, making costumes, providing food, donating funds, and cheering dance-mates of all ages. Adult dancers encourage an atmosphere of family and belonging at their schools.

As more adults ride the wave that is Irish dance, their contributions of time, money and stability are getting noticed. An increasing number of schools are offering adult classes in their curriculum. Your school can join in the benefits that adult dancers offer. Encourage your TCRG to offer adult classes. And if you are a teacher, open your doors to what adult dancers have to offer, and prepare to be pleasantly surprised.

MAID Service: A Mother Joins the Ranks

*This article first appeared in the Nov/Dec 2010 issue of Feis America Magazine



The night before my son’s first feis I readied our costumes, gathered safety pins and first-aid supplies, and printed off the feis syllabus. I sat and taught him what to expect from the few feisanna I had attended.

“Make sure to smile while you are dancing,” I counseled, “And don’t forget to bow to the judge.”

He showed a good mix of confidence and nerves. “I’m pretty good at Irish dance, so maybe I will get a trophy,” he said, then backtracked with, “Probably I won’t get anything.”

I put my arm around him. “I really don’t know if you will place or not, but if you do what we’ve practiced and show everyone how much you love to dance, it will be a fun trip.”

Early the next morning we arrived at the feis. None of my careful planning could have prepared me for what I felt when we walked into the arena. My stomach performed a leap-over as I watched Ethon take in the vast room.

“Now concentrate on just the first dance,” I told him as I pinned on his number and straightened his tie.

Trying not to hover, I wished him luck and walked to the bleachers. Remembering additional motherly advice, I doubled back to the edge of the stage, but Ethon had already struck up a conversation with the boy next to him, unruffled by the impending contest. It appeared that I had enough nerves for the both of us.

Accordion music filled the air. He pointed his toe on count five and took off with a smile. It felt unreal, watching my child compete. My heart slowed to a trot and I rubbed my arms where they had gone numb and tingly.

Leaping and cutting across the floor, he danced with a fluid grace that spoke of his love for Irish dance. He performed every step just as we had practiced it, and then topped his bow off with a smile to the judge.

The silly grin of a proud mother spread across my face. Who would have thought that a person could get so much satisfaction out of someone else’s success?

My son continued through his dances, nailing some and struggling on others. To my relief, he had no trouble keeping track of where to be and what dance to perform.

“I am so proud of you!” I yelled as Ethon came to find me in the bleachers. He grinned and shoved a fist full of medals towards me.

Together we waited for the treble reel placements to be announced. Fourth place, then third took their spots on the podium. Ethon gripped the back of the seat in front of him, repeating the word “please” in a whisper.

Here it comes, I thought. What would I say to him if he didn’t place?

Second place came and went, and my heart sank. Well, there are lessons to be learned in defeat as well as victory, I told myself.

“First place goes to...”

It’s hard to say who was more stunned when my son’s name was read, he or I. He got over the shock first and walked up to the podium, a smile bursting across his face.

In a moment that any “mother addicted to Irish dance” (MAID) can relate to, I realized that the only thing more gratifying than personal victory is watching someone whom you care about succeed.

When it came time to compete in my own dances, my nerves felt like butterflies compared to the gut-wrenching tension of watching my son dance. Although dancing in the adult competition was a delight, the real joy came as I watched my boy clutch his first trophy to his chest, confidence shining in his eyes.

Old Guy Clicks up Heels at (almost) half a century young

*This article first appeared in the Sep/Oct issue of Feis America Magazine

Before signing up for Irish dance lessons at age 44, Mark Pottinger (a.k.a. “Old_Guy” on dance.net), had never taken any kind of dance. After watching Irish dancers on St. Patrick’s Day, Mark signed his then seven-year old daughter up for lessons at the Bennett School of Irish Dance in Denver, Colorado.

When Mark couldn’t answer his daughter’s dance questions, another father suggested that he take a class or two. He signed himself up for an adult session and he was hooked. Mark and his daughter began feising and it wasn’t long before they were both placing in competition.

Although Mark acknowledges the struggles that come with dancing as an adult, he knows firsthand how fulfilling it can be. In November 2009, at 48 years of age, Mark attended the Western Regional Oireachtas in Denver, Colorado. He placed fourth in his competition, qualifying for the 2010 World Irish Dancing Championships in Glasgow, Scotland.

“This sport has been a fantastic opportunity for me to share an activity with my daughter,” Mark says. “We get to spend time together.”

Having a family member who competes has its challenges. Mark often finds himself running between stages, balancing his own dances with his daughter’s. As a result, dance steps are not the only new skills Mark has acquired while dancing with his daughter; he’s learning what it takes to get a teenager ready at a feis. “[Fastening] a wig is an engineering problem, all about transferring loads to anchor points,” Mark says. “And the makeup I pretty much do as a paint by numbers.”

Mark realizes that it takes him a bit longer than younger dancers to master steps. He counts himself lucky to have supportive teachers at the Bennett School of Irish Dance. “A lot of TCs simply would not or could not invest the time it takes to teach an older dancer like me,” he says. Mark has an agreement with his teachers: if it’s time for him to stop dancing, and he’s not realizing it on his own, they will let him know.

Like many people in their 40’s, Mark lives with pain. Recently, his type of pain has been diagnosed as Sjögren’s syndrome, an autoimmune disease similar to rheumatoid arthritis. Still, he doesn’t let the pain get in the way of his dancing.

“I think we just can’t expect to be pain-free past a certain age, so I do my best to work through it,” Mark says.

When Mark placed all of his dances in the adult Prizewinner category, he ran out of room to advance. Dropping from adult levels to the “&Overs” was a natural progression. Mark mentions that his adult status in &Overs has been well received in the Western Region, especially by his competitors.

Mark believes that “with proper training and conditioning, there is no physical reason adults can’t continue to advance.” He has a few ideas of what the future might hold for adults in Irish dance. Perhaps a champion or “masters” level will be instated, similar to the masters competitions that are held in other sports, like golf and swimming. Or maybe the adult division will be dissolved and integrated simply as “over20,” “over30” and so on, as some sanctioning organizations have already adopted. No matter how the dance evolves, Mark is confident that the future participation of adults is bright.

Mark plans on attending the World Irish Dancing Championships in March. He practices six days a week, in addition to three or four weekly lessons. Mark plans on enjoying at least three feisanna with his daughter between now and March. If his body is still is holding up, Mark will take the only chance he may get to compete at Worlds.

Even with the obstacles that face Mark, he is optimistic. To the beginner dancer who starts at an advanced age, Mark counsels, “You will have physical discomfort, but you probably will [even] if you don’t dance.”

And how long will Mark continue to dance? “Until my body gives out or I feel like I’m no longer doing justice to the sport.” Let’s hope that’s a long time coming.

Free copy of Feis America Magazine

"Feis America is the only family magazine for Irish dance enthusiasts in North America and beyond. The focus of the magazine is family, positive self image, health and the multi-generational bonds that unite us through our passion for Irish dance and culture. Littlies to grandparents will enjoy the rich editorial and adventures in every issue. A reasonably priced magazine that transcends time zones and region boundaries is a small way to feel a big connection!"

The folks at Feis America Magazine are thinking of releasing issues in a PDF format along with the hardcopy of the bi-monthly magazine.

The Irish dance magazine recently acquired Hornpipe Magazine, formally published by Bartleby Press out of Austin, Texas, since 1999.

According to the magazine's blog, international customers can order an online version of the North America-based magazine for a fee of $5.00.  If you live outside of North America, you can start brandishing your swords: now you can subscribe to North America's premier magazine for Irish dance enthusiasts. 

To try out the PDF version of the magazine, follow Feis America on twitter, or facebook, then send a note to efeisamerica@gmail.com and you will soon receive a link for a free copy of one of their issues.

Adult Eight-hand Team Prepares for Oireachtas

This article first appeared in the Mar/Apr 2010 issue of Feis America Magazine.    

 

 

 

 

 

 

     You might be tempted to think that the challenges of Irish dancing as an adult outweigh any benefits. 

     After all, adults may have a harder time scheduling lessons, learning steps, dealing with stage fright, and getting their feet to do what their brains want.  But where the body is weak, the spirit is determined.  Adults all over the worlare taking on the challenges and reaping the benefits of Irish dance.

     The women in the Crawford School of Irish Dance’s eight-hand team come from different parts of the country, have varied family demographics and may disagree on where to eat for girls’ night out, but they share a common bond:  a love of Irish dance, discovered later in life. It’s plain to see that the Utah team members are familiar with the struggles of adult Irish dancing, but also recognize the rewards that come with it.

     Adult competition, especially team figures, can be stressful.  Sarah Lindsay feels the strain. “There is still a little pressure to not let your teammates down,” she says.  “You definitely don't want to be the one who ruins it for the team.”

     Hillary Hoopes agrees, saying, “The team feels like a family and not only do I want to do better for myself, but I want to do better for them.”

     The pressure of performing together as a team can be challenging for adult dancers, who often have to balance their dance family with work and family at home.  Training for the 2009 Western Regional Oireachtas, the Crawford team found themselves juggling additional practices with their already busy schedules.

     “Balancing it is all about creating boundaries for yourself and allowing time for other things in your life,” says Hillary.

     Alyson McKean-Bown doesn’t mind the craziness; she says, “I like to be busy, and Irish dance is my sanity – I love it.”

     No matter how much they sacrifice for their dancing, adults often find themselves battling with negativity towards their pursuit of a hobby in later years.

      “People don’t take us as seriously because we are adults.  I wish we would get more recognition,” Alyson says.

     “Some schools will not teach adults.  They think it’s a waste of time,” Deedra Lambert adds. “They don’t understand what an asset we can be.  Adults help with feisanna and fundraisers, and contribute time to the schools.”

     With all of the pressures, juggling, and lack of recognition that come with adult dancing, you might question why adult dancers submit themselves to the rigorous art form.  Yet, if you ask any one of the Crawford’s adult team if all of the exertion is worth it, the answer will be an emphatic “Yes!”

     Adults are finding hidden treasures in Irish dance.  They are gaining new skills, boosting their exercise, and discovering lasting friendships. 

     Learning a new skill later in life can be daunting.  Sarah understands the frustration.  “I think a lot of adults can be hard on themselves when starting to compete in Irish dance,” she says, adding, “It gets easier, so just have fun and don't take yourself too seriously.”

     As they worked towards the Oireachtas, the team learned that physical fitness is a bonus that results from their Irish dancing.

     The women on the team are already active.  Maggie Hawley, for instance, goes hiking and to the gym, and uses Wii Fit to stay in shape.  Other team members run marathons, train for sprints and participate in other forms of dance. 

     “Sprint training is useful for our eight hand reel,” says Deedra. “It builds stamina for the longer dances.”

     Not only does Irish dance improve stamina, it can help tone unused core muscles and provide an aerobic workout.

     The eight women expected to gain a new skill and increase their activity, but what they didn’t count on were the added benefits of lasting friendships and a rip-roaring good time.

     “We've become really close over the last year, both personally and athletically,” says Kiramey Gilleese.  “We're currently trying to get a dance gig at a pirate-themed restaurant so we can raise money for the Oireachtas trip.”

     “In my family, I am the only girl with three brothers. Being on this team makes me feel like I'm dancing alongside seven sisters. I love it,” Hillary says.

     The next time you attend a Western Region feis, track down the Crawford School of Irish Dance’s adult team.  They are well aware of the hard work and challenges that come to adult Irish dancers, but the benefits and joy that they gain are evident in their dedication, their words, and, of course, their dancing.

     As Kiramey put it, “As long as you want to and you have a passion for (something), it's never too late try something you've always wanted to do.” 

Renewed Commitment

This article first appeared in the Jan/Feb 2010 issue of Feis America Magazine.

My husband and I drove to a feis late one night with a van full of small children. We made it to Boise, Idaho in time to tuck each child into their motel bed. The next morning, despite the early hour, we made it to the Boise by the River Feis on time.

As we searched for the registration table, I felt the familiar competition nerves begin to flutter. To add to my nervousness was the novelty of having my nine year-old son compete in his first feis.

 We settled the kids on the bleachers with a backpack full of distractions, and enjoyed watching our son compete.

With only two hours to go before my own competitions, we opted to stick around the feis arena, grabbing a strength-zapping hot dog for lunch. The two hours came and went, and we realized that the feis was running far behind schedule.

As the wait dragged on, I began to wonder if I should be at the competition at all. An uncomfortable feeling of doubt crept into my consciousness, resulting in an unsettling case of anxiety.

After warming up for too long, we adults began competing. Halfway through my single jig, I landed a leap wrong and twisted my calf muscle, taking me out of competition. I sat out the rest of the dances, tears swimming in my eyes, wondering what in the world made me think that I, an over thirty, mother of five, beginner, could compete in Irish dance?

My body is too old, I thought, do I honestly think I can dance with a body that has taken the abuse of time and motherhood? It was the first time I had honestly doubted that, if I had the will to aim high and the determination to work for it, I could accomplish any dream.

 I looked over to where my family lay sprawled across two rows of bleachers. The baby had succumbed to a nap in my husband’s tired arms and the four other small children were roaming the stairs amid scattered crayons and snacks.

What gives me the right to submit my family to this torture? I wondered. My mishap bred negativity and soon I was questioning the wisdom of pursuing Irish dance at a time in my life when I could be content to watch it from a distance.

I had worked so hard on my dances, traveled hours to attend the feis, and paid money to compete in the dances that were passing me by. I do not know which pain I felt more keenly; the injury to my leg, or the torture of sitting on the sidelines, watching my adult friends compete without me. Self-pity threatened to block out any positive that could come from this experience.

As my three year-old daughter “helped” me rub ice on my leg, I wondered if my husband would echo the feelings of doubt and trepidation that haunted me. After all, he had just spent ten hours wrangling kids, footed the bill for dances I did not complete in, and watched helplessly as I sustained an injury.

When I voiced my concerns, his response gave me hope.

“You can’t let this get you down,” he encouraged, “you’ve got another feis in a few weeks.”

How I needed that support. Self-pity vanished and I began to form a plan of attack. I can do this, I determined, pushing the uncertainty and fear behind me. I can follow my dreams of dance regardless of my age, or the number of children I have at home.

I limped over to the results table and did my best to help corral my small children while we waited for the placings to be posted. To my surprise, I placed in every dance that I had been able to compete in. A few of the ladies whom I had competed with came over to check on my leg. Although it still hurt to put pressure on my leg, my spirits were lifted and I looked around the arena with a renewed commitment to pursuing my love of Irish dance.

The injury to my leg was minor; I am already back on my feet again. The real victory came from my triumph over self doubt.

I’ve since come to the conclusion that if the pursuit of something brings you joy, embrace and pursue it with all of your heart. You will spark a change in yourself, and ignite transformation in the lives of those who are touched by your light.

I’d Rather be Feising

This article first appeared in the Nov/Dec 2009 issue of Feis America Magazine.

The gymnasium at the Utah State Feis had been partitioned down the center, the rear half converted into a warm-up and wait room.  To my surprise, teenagers in elaborately-sequined solo dresses dominated the dressing areas.  Confidence waning, I walked around the room, pretending that I belonged. I began thinking of all the places I would rather be: in my dance school, at home, under a rock. Just as I turned to leave the gym, I spotted a group of ladies wearing class dresses.

I looked around the room and found more competing teams.  The adults were costumed in dresses and skirts alike, some adorned with intricate knots and embroidery.  A few adults were practicing their dances, others were sitting in concentration-headphones blocking out the non-stop accordion music.

I glimpsed some ladies who wore the same class dress as me. Walking over to these teammates whom I had never met (they dance at a different location than I), I tried to make eye contact.  All of the women were busy adjusting their wigs and checking their programs.  I felt as insecure as a newbie entering junior high school. Sweat trickled down my spine, and I hadn’t even warmed up yet.

The mock feis my school had hosted helped prepare me for what to expect from the competitive scene, but I wondered what the adults would think of me.  Were they cliquish?  Did they keep to themselves and shun newcomers?  How would my dancing stack up against the adults who had been competing for years? 

Claiming an empty table, I rummaged around in my bag so that I, too, would appear busy.  This is ridiculous, I thought, I bet those adults are nervous and insecure, just like me.

“I don’t think I’ve met you.”  A circle of dancers stopped fidgeting and smiled at my boldness.  Three women and one man introduced themselves and soon we were all relieved to share the burden of tension generated by the competition. Though initial hesitation showed from all of the adults I talked to, a warm singleness surfaced.

“I’m hoping to place in my light jig this time,” One of the women confessed.

“If I get through my dance without falling on my face, I’ll be thrilled,” another admitted.

Soon I noticed that the other adult dancers faced the same fears that I did.  Would we place?  Would we fall?  Would spectators frown on the time given to “older” competitors, or would they accept us as dancers pursuing a legitimate goal?

Soon my fellow classmates arrived and I introduced them to my new-found friends.  We ran through our soft shoe dances together and lined up for the first dance.

The flurry of competition went by like a dream.  I leaped and hopped to the music, the smile on my face genuine.  As we flew through each event, the faces grew familiar, the smiles more frequent.  In between dances, kind words were exchanged and encouragement voiced.  A feeling of belonging, of community, wove through the arena, tying us together like the infinite loops of a celtic knot.  

I found myself at the results table, comparing placings with adults who, a few hours earlier, had been only strangers. When I found that I had placed in five of my eight dances, it felt like icing on the cake. I had gained so much more than medals, I belonged to a new circle of friends.  Not everyone found good news or received the marks they had hoped for, but the encouragement and congratulations exchanged were heart-felt.   

The nervousness of the afternoon had disappeared like a fog at sunrise.  I had met adult Irish dancers from all over the Western United States.  Some of them were at their first feis, like me; others had competed for years, long enough to own a coveted solo dress.  It did not matter that we were competitors.  As dancers we shared a commonality that bound strangers together in friendship: a love of Irish Dance.

As I packed up my shoes, I waved goodbye to my new-found friends.  There is a place for me in this world of adult dancers.  Here I can express my love of dance and be encouraged, recognized, and even accepted.

Irish dancing, there is no place I’d rather be.

A (Mock) Feis to Remember

by Christy Dorrity

This article first appeared in the Sept/Oct 2009 issue of Feis America Magazine.

 My stomach lurched when I saw the judges at tables near signs reading "Stage A" and "Stage B."  I hadn't been this nervous since dancing in high school.  Walking past the vendors at my school’s “mock” feis, I headed backstage.

Dancers of all ages and sizes were adjusting dresses and lacing ghillies.  Looking down at the white shirt and black skirt that marked me as a newbie, I wondered if I should compete.  Who was I kidding?   As a mother of five, I should be running kids to soccer, not prancing around a stage.  Maybe I could sneak out the way I came in.

I turned around and ran into a class mother.  "Here's your number," she said, handing me a paper with the number one on it. I smoothed my shirt, feeling exposed and self-conscious in my bloomers and short skirt.  If only I had lost ten pounds before this event.

Slip jig, single jig, light jig - the names of the dances jumbled together in my head.  Would I remember each dance while the competitor next to me did something completely different, in front of people who were looking for my mistakes, all to music I had never heard before?  I panicked.

Peeking out at the crowd gathering by the stages, I saw my son waving a camera at me.  I felt better having loved ones cheering me on.

Soon, it was time for my first dance – the beginner reel. Standing with my feet crossed, I tried not to lock my knees. Younger girls reeled in front of me.  The floor felt slippery.  A new worry surfaced:  what if I slipped and fell?  Before I could explore that lovely thought, I was counted in.

Remembering to smile, off I went.  My legs took over, recalling what my brain could not. My body did exactly what I had practiced and no more.  I resolved to make it through the dance, crappy technique or not.  After thirty-two bars, I was bowing to the judges.  I had competed in Irish dance for the first time!

Backstage I eagerly pumped my friends for their experiences.  "Did you make it through?” I asked.  “You didn't fall, did you?"  But before I could find out much, it was time to dance again.

Everything ran smoothly until the last eight measures of my single jig, when the music came to a dead stop. "Step step, leap 2, 3..." I counted out the steps in my head and ended with my feet crossed tightly.  To think that I had worried about dancing to new music - I had just danced in silence and still remembered my steps!

 My confidence didn’t last - hard shoe was next and my chest tightened with nerves. I felt like a mule at a horse race. The floor felt more slippery and I prayed that I would stay upright.  Miraculously, the dance went smoothly - until the end.  Down I went, legs in the air.  A collective gasp echoed through the room and I scrambled to my feet.

 I didn’t have time to dwell on my slip-up; I had to line up for the Hornpipe.  It was the least polished of my entries, and I hadn't gotten to practice it.  My insides twisted tighter than a Celtic knot.  While I waited in line, I walked through the dance and successfully recalled all of the steps.  With one deep breath, I headed for the stage.

Pulling determination out of my emergency reserves, I counted myself in.  Believing that I would remember all of the steps, I gained confidence.  I should have kept my thoughts on my feet; one second I was gliding along easily, the next my mind was blank.  I had no idea what came next.  I looked at the girls dancing onstage next to me, but they were doing different dances.  I was lost.

I don’t know what happened next; I assume I repeated the basic steps until my counts were up.  Embarrassed, I bowed and snuck back to the warm-up area.  My friends encouraged me to forget my mistake and keep going. It was good advice, but hard to follow after messing up in front of people who were already judging me for my lack of youth and experience.  Nevertheless, with my hard shoe dances over, I sighed with relief.  After one more dance - a two-hand reel that repeated steps I had competed with earlier – I was done.

"I enjoyed watching you dance out there," said a woman backstage.  "You caught my eye.  Nice job."  I thanked her, surprised at how good a casual compliment could feel.

I had done it.  I, an over-thirty adult, had competed in an Irish dance competition.  Sure, I had forgotten a step here, a dance there.  I had even fallen on my behind.  But I had pushed myself to leap out of my comfort zone and challenge myself.  Confidence kindled in my heart, igniting a desire to practice harder and develop my talent.  I wondered: how would this practice feis compare to a real competition? Give me a few months to practice and I'll find out.

This article first appeared in the Sept/Oct 2009 issue of Feis America Magazine.

Dreams Resurrected

by Christy  Dorrity

This article first appeared in the June/July issue of Feis America Magazine .

“I bought you tickets to a dance show,” said my husband as he handed me Riverdance tickets.  We had never heard of Irish dancing before, but he knew I would love any dancing event.

The night of the show I fidgeted with anticipation, unaware of the vibrant world I was about to enter and the effect it would have on my future.  Haunting flute music filled the theatre, and I held my breath as dancers drifted onto the stage like ethereal creatures.  My heart pounded with their feet in a rhythm of longing that would not be quieted.  When the curtain dropped, I yearned to maintain a connection with the song and dance.

For weeks, I couldn’t stop thinking about Riverdance.  I listened to the music and researched the show’s roots, wishing I had known earlier about it.  My husband mentioned that it would be fun to learn to dance like the Riverdancers.  That got me thinking: could I learn to Irish dance?

As I considered taking dance lessons, obstacles surfaced.  I was quite pregnant with my second child, so dance instruction would have to wait.  I would need money for lessons.  I hadn’t danced since college; my muscles and technique were rusty.  And in my mind lurked the thought that I couldn’t dance and be a mom too.

After a year of debate, I took informal lessons from a local teenager.  I enjoyed the basic movements taught, and the class fueled the ambition that ignited when I had first watched the Riverdancers.

I found an adult class whose doors were open to anyone.  Lacing up my ghillies, I soaked up every dance my teacher introduced to our fledgling class.  Attending a weekly night class while my children slept required less of my family than I had feared. 

After learning several dances, I realized that it wasn’t enough to practice them; I wanted to perform.  My school offered a performance group, but only for children and teenagers.  When I learned that adults can compete in Irish dancing, it didn’t take long to find a certified teacher in my area.  Armed with a bag full of shoes and a mind full of questions, I began my journey to competition.

The satisfaction obtained from hours of training and focus was expected; the myriad of benefits that resulted were a bonus.  I found that even thirty-somethings can pursue dance and be taken seriously on the Irish dance stage.   I have gained strong friendships, my technique is improving, and my baby weight is disappearing forever.  My quest has even inspired my children to find dreams of their own.

I know there will be sacrifices as I balance a family of seven with my renewed pursuit of dancing.  Finding time to be a soccer mom and practice my light jig will be tricky.  But with a supportive family and a commitment to rearrange my schedule, I am confident that I can be a loving mother and still succeed in my ambition. 

Who says you have to hang up your ghillies when you turn eighteen?  No matter your age, you can dance your dreams. My two-year-old daughter may be tiny, but she is not too young to inform me that she is going to dance when she “gets bigger,” just like her mommy.  The ladies in my adult class may have decades of life experience, but they are not too old to get in their clicks.

Come along; experience the world of Irish dancing with a new adult competitor.  My first feis is only months away and I can’t wait to experience the thrill of performance.  Share in my struggles and success as I don hard shoes and treble down a fresh pathway to my dreams.

This article first appeared in the June/July 2009  issue of Feis America Magazine .

Confessions of a Stage Mother

 by Christy Dorrity

This article first appeared in the April/May 2009 issue of FeisAmerica Magazine.

 In my role as a stage mother, I like to think I am the encouraging type. I am not the other type, you know them, parents who hover over their star child, pushing them to pursue the dream they never accomplished. I love my child as he is, encouraging him to chase his own dreams, giving him freedom to choose those dreams without my influence. If he wanted to stop dancing, I would let him in a heart-beat. I think.

Friends who know of the passion I had for dance in my younger years laugh when they hear I have a son in dance. “You signed your son up for ballet?” The real meaning of their accusation is clear-you love dancing so much that you forced it onto your unsuspecting son.

The truth is, my son asked me for dance lessons when he was still in diapers. Each Tuesday as I put him into bed, he would ask me to take him to my adult Irish dance class. Tucking his blanket under his chin, I told him that it was a class “just for mommies”. After this went on for more than a year, I asked him if he wanted to join a dance class for kids. Ballet and tap ensued, followed by a love of Irish dance that we still share. My little boy initiated the dance lessons and I encouraged him to follow his interest.

Now I peer through the viewing window at class to see if his form is correct. Is he pointing his toes, are his hands straight at his sides? Is he focusing on what the teacher is passing on to him? The emotional ribbons that tie me to dance are interwoven with how I feel about my son’s first hobby.

At performances I beam with pride and have visions of him trebleing to fame, placing at Nationals, even being asked to join the Riverdance troupe. There is no limit to how much he can achieve, I think to myself, if he works diligently towards this dream I have for him.

I bought him a ticket to see Lord of the Dance. My intentions are noble. I plan to expose him to the expertise of professional male dancers…and secretly I hope he will be taken in by the music and dance, as I am. He shows a genuine interest and talent for Irish dance and I want him to love it as much as I do.

Last week I presented him with his own (expensive) ticket to Lord of the Dance. I showed him a video clip from the production’s website. “Isn’t that amazing?” I said. “Do you want to learn to perform like that?” I held my breath waiting for his answer. “Yeah,” he said, “I want to get really good at Irish dancing. Or maybe I could learn to perform Kung Fu onstage.”

As he hop-two-three-d to the next room, my mouth hung open in painful realization. I am more attached to my dream of his success than I realized.

Perhaps we are all stage parents. We age, we acquire families and full-time jobs, and, for some of us, our dreams are put away. Those of us whose dreams are cut short won’t allow them to die, and it is all too easy to project them onto our children.

 Most mothers and fathers encourage self-confidence and growth through the activities their children participate in. Perhaps they even secretly harbor a belief that their child could be the next Jean Butler, or Michael Phelps, or David Cook. Parents want their children to experience success.

I wonder then, can I let go and allow my son to pursue his own dreams, unhampered by the ones I cling to? The answer, I find, is surprisingly simple. It is a matter of allowing myself to live those dreams that I believed were lost with my youth.

My desires to motivate my son and my need to follow my own dreams can go hand in hand. When I pursue my own talents and ambitions, he observes my dedication; he notices the drive with which I pursue my interests. When I allow myself to reach for those dreams I had almost forgotten, he is encouraged to struggle for his own visions of greatness. I will be the kind of stage mother every parent wants to be-one who shares with their child a love for life and envisions his/her ultimate potential.

I’ll have no regrets if my son chooses to dance, or to play ball, or to be a musician. This stage mom will be there cheering him on regardless of the venue. After all, dreams are fulfilling only when they can be shared with the ones you love. Dusting off my ambitions will be a satisfying challenge. Who knows, I may even develop new talents. Kung Fu, here we come.

This article first appeared in the April/May 2009 issue of FeisAmerica Magazine.