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 Who Is
Dolly Dinkle?
By Rhee
Gold
Dance
Studio Life readers sound off on the meaning of this common
term for dance teachers
When I
raised the question “What is a ‘Dolly Dinkle’ dance teacher?”
on our website several months ago, little did I know what
a response I would get. Apparently the term means different
things to different people, and readers spoke their minds
emphatically. In its more generic use, it refers to the owner
of a small, neighborhood school, often one with primitive
facilities (low ceilings and tile or concrete floors,
perhaps). But for some people the term has a negative
connotation, signifying a poorly trained teacher who has no
qualifications to teach others; for others who perceive it
more positively, a Dolly Dinkle school has humble origins but
is often run by a teacher with high standards and great drive
and passion. Emotions run high in this debate, and it affords
us an interesting look at personal biases in the context of
the labels we use for others.
It all
began with a conversation I had with a teacher friend of mine,
who had trained with me at my mother’s school in
Randolph,
MA,
some 40-odd years ago. She referred to another teacher in her
town as a “Dolly Dinkle” teacher. All my life I’ve heard the
term but I had never asked anyone what they meant by it—but
this time I did. My friend replied, “It’s someone who hangs
out a shingle and opens a school in her basement.” That didn’t
sound too terrible to me. Then she added, “Who doesn’t have a
degree in dance.” In a condescending tone of voice she
finished her description with “Do you know that this teacher
has no secretary? She actually collects the tuition and
teaches her classes!”
Instantly I
shot back with “Don’t you realize that you and I are the
products of a Dolly Dinkle teacher?” I explained that she had
just described my mother, our first teacher. When my mother
began teaching, she hung up a shingle, taught in her basement,
and had no degree in dance. She was the secretary and the
janitor; she cleaned the mirrors, bathrooms, and floors and
did all the other jobs that come with owning a school. My
friend seemed very surprised at first, as if she thought I
didn’t know what I was talking about, but she then realized
that she had made a negative judgment about a teacher who was
just like her own teacher. I think it made her do a bit of
soul-searching.
My friend
and I (and my brother) became dance teachers because my mother
decided to pass on her passion for the art of dance in the
only way she could afford to—with a shingle, a basement, and
no support staff. More than 40 years later, my mother’s school
is housed in a huge building, has a flourishing enrollment, a
national reputation for producing professional dancers, and a
successful recreational program, all under the direction of my
brother Rennie. If my mother was a Dolly Dinkle dance teacher,
I’m thinking we need more of them!
In response
to my website posting, quite a few readers wrote in. Tracy
Davenport of Performing Arts Centre, Inc., in St. Charles, MO,
writes, “I had no idea ‘Dolly Dinkle’ was a universal term.
This gal gets around! I have heard the term in reference to a
stereotype of teachers who have had only a few years of
training as a child or adult and then open a studio. They are
not dedicated to the art form; teaching is just a business to
them. These teachers are not continuing their own education,
thereby passing on an education that leaves a lot to be
desired.”
Several
teachers say that based on my friend’s description they would
qualify as Dolly Dinkles themselves. “Your description of
Dolly Dinkle puts me right there,” writes Terrie Legein of
Legein Dance Academy of Performing Arts in Coventry, RI. “I
did the exact same thing 29 years ago. I think the only thing
that sets us former ‘Dinkle girls’ apart from the rest is that
we join an organization that can help us become better dance
educators and work toward becoming the best we can in our
field. I wouldn’t change a thing from my studio past—I think
it’s what makes us better administrators and business owners.”
“I am a
‘Dolly Dinkle’ teacher and have been for 31 years,” writes
Kathie Jamison Cote of Northern Lights Dance Arts in Maine. “I
helped support our family of seven with studios in
Florida
for 16 years, and now that shingle hangs in three towns in
Maine,
where I continue to do my life’s work. [My parents] provided
every opportunity for me to expand my knowledge as I was
growing up in the remote state of Maine. Fortunately my
teacher, Jheri McQuillan, recognized my passion for dance and
mentored me with annual classes in New York City with some of
the finest master teachers: Luigi, Gus Giordano, Danny Hoctor
and the Caravan folks, Kit André, Melita Brock- Warner, Joey
Puglisi, Frank Hatchett . . .” Commenting on the unfair
judgment that is sometimes levied on teachers who do not have
a degree in dance, Cote adds, “I share my passion, love, and
knowledge lovingly with my dancers. They know their technique
and terminology, and we are constantly questing to learn from
those dancers and teachers, classes, videos, and books that
set the high standards that the dance world enjoys.”
“I am one
of those teachers as well,” writes Debbie Donaldson, artistic
director of Dreams in Motion Performing and Fine Arts School
in Gananoque, Ontario, Canada. “I had taken dance all my life;
then when I had my three girls I started taking them to dance
classes in the nearest city. I drove 45 minutes each way to
watch them take a class for 45 minutes. At the end-of-the-year
show, I sat there thinking, ‘I can do better than this,’ and
my mother, who was sitting next to me, said, ‘You can do
better than this.’ So the next year, with 17 students, I
started a dance school in the basement of our house. Now, 22
years later, there are times when I feel I am not good enough,
especially when I go into the [public] school system and [the
teachers there] turn their heads the other way because I do
not have a teaching degree. But my school has become a
performing and fine arts school and a charitable organization.
I love teaching dance and bringing the joy of the arts to this
area. I belong to a dance teachers’ organization, and I do
what I feel is right for my students. ‘Dolly Dinkle’ or
‘Debbie Dance’—that’s me and I am proud of it!”
Melanie
Kirk-Stauffer, artistic director of Dance Theatre Northwest in
University Place, WA, had never heard the name “Dolly Dinkle”
before, but she can identify. “I started my school years ago
in the basement of a nursing/retirement home in a donated
space and in gratitude did numerous performances there. We
still do several performances each year in senior-care
facilities; it is a win–win for all. My school grew from
nothing, and I guess I didn’t notice that much because I am so
passionate about both dance and teaching.”
Suzanne
Perdue of Dancers Edge in
Marlborough,
MA,
writes to defend the argument that a “Dolly Dinkle” teacher is
someone who should not be teaching dance. “They have had poor
or no training, education, or performing experience when they
start teaching, much like someone who decides to practice law
without the necessary training. It doesn’t have to do with
opening a studio in a basement or not having a secretary.
Often it’s a student who says, ‘Hey, I can dance; I can do
what a teacher does.’ Sometimes they have had no dance
education beyond their own teachers (who also might have had
no education beyond their own teachers); they don’t take
classes or workshops to improve themselves or their studio;
they put kids on pointe at age 8 or demonstrate a complete
lack of understanding of what is developmentally appropriate
for kids.”
She goes on
to cite the example of a teacher with more than 20 years of
experience who told a student preparing to take her first
pointe class to “buy any pointe shoes and walk around in them
during the summer. When the girl started classes in the fall,
this teacher told her, she’d be on pointe. The girl was 10.
She had had one year of ballet, one class per week. In her
first class wearing the pointe shoes (after not dancing for
three months), she dislocated her knee. I learned about this
when she became my student the following year.” She mentions
another teacher she knows who “studied with only one teacher
and claimed she had no desire to do anything further in dance,
including teacher workshops, but wanted to be a dance teacher.
Never more than a beginning-level student, she became a dance
teacher at age 14.”
So let’s
make a proclamation that not all Dolly Dinkles are created
equal. Excellent, dedicated teachers who enrich their
students’ lives through dance and challenge themselves to
learn and grow throughout their careers may start out in
humble surroundings, but their “shingles” represent good
training, passion for dance and children, and the desire to
contribute to an art form. That’s a far cry from someone with
the same roots who opens a school but lacks what it takes to
shape a dancer—and a life. The next time you hear the term, or
are tempted to call someone by it, consider what it might mean
to them. Depending on the context, it could be an insult—or a
compliment.
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