Nurturing The Dance Family

By Melissa Hoffman

One studio owner’s journey from feelings of inadequacy to validation

In the September/October 2004 issue of Goldrush I wrote about my decision to build a dance studio. I’d been in business for 14 years, and the decision to pay a mortgage instead of rent was a sound one. But with a move-in date coming up in six weeks, I can honestly say it has been a bumpy ride. The financing and building processes have gone smoothly, but my confidence in my ability to handle what it will take to support the business has been shaky. I found myself questioning why I chose this direction for my business.

My concern began not long after I learned that the bank had approved our construction loan. Suddenly this huge undertaking was real. I would need to keep up the pace at which I currently work, teaching 20 classes a week and running a business that enrolls 650 dancers who take more than 1,500 hours of classes each month. Could I keep doing it? Could I continue to do it well enough for my business to succeed as studios start popping up around me? Would my family regret the choice we made because of the time commitment on my part? With all this on my mind I decided to register for Project Motivate. Five years ago, when I needed guidance in finding balance between family and business, this was the place to go. Within two years I had found that balance—I had achieved my definition of success. This time I hoped to learn some new ideas for marketing and business practices to assure that my business would continue to thrive.

After listening to some amazing dance educators speak about their schools and families I started to feel inadequate. Why, I wondered, had I chosen dance education to begin with? I spoke to many educators who could tell me the moment they knew this was what they were meant to do and couldn’t imagine doing anything else. Had I ever thought that? I don’t think so. I knew that I would one day go into teaching because I love it, but it could have been in math or English. I questioned whether I was as successful as others perceived me to be. Do I make a difference? And does what I do have value in people’s lives? I had some major self-examining to do, and my timing couldn’t have been worse. The new building was half up, and my self-doubt was overwhelming.

In working through all of this I started with my concerns about my family since I would need to be more available at the studio. I decided that I could afford to have a strong assistant, which would give me the freedom to attend at least half of my children’s baseball games and soccer tournaments. And my family agreed to help me more at the studio and around the house. For now, this is the best long-term decision for our family.

However, I was still not sure that I ever thought that running a dance studio is exactly what I am supposed to be doing. I knew when I opened the school that it was important to me to treat my clients as I would want my children—and myself—treated. This meant being open-minded (though not a pushover), organized, and, most important, human. Had I done this? I started running into former students who had started dancing when I opened my studio. Listening to them describe the impact the school had on them was eye opening. I had had no idea how much these dancers loved being inside our walls.

On Rhee Gold’s advice I sat in my current studio for a couple of days, truly looking around. I realized as I looked at the trophies on the shelf that I am so proud of the type of education my staff and I have provided. No, it isn’t the trophies that prove that to me but the fact that the dancers in my studio know what the “Melissa grin” is. They tell me it is the look on my face as each one of them performs. I see the Small Business of the Year plaque we were awarded by the Chamber of Commerce this year, and the ones from the New Hampshire Make-a-Wish Foundation that acknowledge the more than $70,000 in donations we raised for them. I see the articles and pictures of our dancers who ventured to Africa to work with children orphaned by the HIV/AIDS epidemic. And I wondered how could I question whether what I do has value.

Next, I sat in our half-completed building, accompanied by my staff, who had been afraid that this move would mean that I would not have any free time. Mouths open in disbelief, one said, “How proud are you?” and another, “If I were you I would sit [here] and watch each step of the process.” Why was I not letting myself get excited? They surely were. I think my concerns about supporting it had held me back. Yet I have always believed that in order to make money you must spend money. Wasn’t that what I was doing?

Then came the biggest realization of all: This is where I belong. Yes, I have built a large clientele, hired the right people to train professional-level dancers, and made a difference in the community. But what I have done best, along with my staff, is create an amazing dance “family.” What brought me to that realization? It may have been the funeral of a student’s mom at which half the congregation was from the studio, or the box of antiseptic wipes left in my mailbox by a mom who heard me say I couldn’t find them for my son. Or maybe it was the crew of moms who showed up on a Sunday to pack and organize my storage facility.

I know I will always have my days of frustration and concern. Though upsetting, this process of evaluating and reevaluating what we do is important, and it had a positive outcome for me. I know now that that I am doing what I am meant to do and that building this studio was the right decision. After all, the dance family I’ve brought together will now have its own home.   

Photo Caption:

The outside of the new Melissa Hoffman Dance Center.  Photo by Heather Donald.