To Sell Or Not To Sell

By Karin Wilde-Berry

When joy and freedom trump responsibility and prestige, the answer is a resounding yes!

If I’d had any lingering doubts that selling my dance studio was the right decision, they were dispelled with a loud crash. My ballet students and I raced to the window to see 3-year-old Miles, a student’s sibling, standing outside with stones in his hand, and his shocked mother running toward him. Miles had broken a $600 window—and I was no longer responsible! I didn’t have to submit it to my insurance company and call my landlord. I was practically giddy!

Many studio owners wonder what it would be like to give up running a business to simply teach. Having lived through this transition recently, I can tell you that the decision process was agonizing. But in the end I found peace and freedom by staying true to my passion.

A studio owner for eight years, I had had no plans to sell the business anytime in the near future. However, over the course of a few months several events (things I could easily have handled in the past) devastated and wearied me, leading me to reflect and re-focus. First, a mother embarrassed by her strong-willed daughter released a verbal barrage of insults at me; second, I no longer could accept that my part-time employee’s weekly paycheck, FICA, and workman’s compensation totaled more than my salary. But the final blow came when my landlord rented the space adjacent to my growing studio (which I had expressed an interest in expanding into) to another dance studio.

From this unexpected, painful experience I came to the realization that although directing a school with more than 250 students and teaching 20 weekly classes had been a blessing, running the business took up more time and energy than I had ever thought. The only time I felt free was when I was in the classroom, relating to the students. I loved them all! I felt that I was flowing in my gift, that I was touching the world by inspiring dancers, training them with quality technique, encouraging them in their efforts, and watching them improve. Suddenly I realized that I was created for the classroom, not for running a business. Teaching is my passion; it’s what makes me excited and joyful.

So the process of selling my studio began. After contacting various people in the dance world for advice, I phoned a like-minded acquaintance with a studio 40 miles north of my location and invited her to purchase what would become another branch of her school. She was delighted and encouraged me to stay on as a well-paid teacher with the freedom to schedule my own hours. Now, I receive a monthly income from the purchase of my studio (to be complete in three years), while teaching classes and earning a real paycheck.

Of course, such a major life transition is never simple. As I struggled with the death of a dream, I experienced a type of grieving. During that time I made a list of everything I hoped to do in my lifetime (and I’ve already begun some of them): take Russian ballet and hot yoga classes; brush up on my guitar playing; study pastel drawing; learn Italian. I had to handle the disappointment of my young students, some of whom stopped dancing when they could no longer get into my classes. And of course, as an employee of the new owners, I must cope with their tastes and preferences, as well as the loss of status and control. Let’s face it—I like to be in charge, yet now I’m just one dance teacher out of seven. I’m not always recognized for how special I think I am. I must now become a team player.

Still, the good outweighs the bad. I no longer have to play the opposing roles of aggressive studio owner (with an eye fixed on the bottom line) and the fun dance teacher (with an eye solely for her students). These days, now that I have less to worry about, I am more relaxed, better able to embrace the moment and explore new creativity. I’m free to develop personal relationships and outside interests, like whipping up fancy dinners to share with the love of my life, my husband of 25 years. You can also find me in new places, like hanging out in cafés reading the complete works of Jane Austen, or taking long nature hikes, or writing my Princess Ballerina curriculum.

I am learning that peace comes through adaptation to change. I’m learning to embrace the things I hold dear and let go of them when the time comes. I have found freedom and joy in recognizing that my passion is dance education, not running a business, and in releasing the aspects I didn’t like even though I found them prestigious and important.

But I’ll sacrifice prestige for love and happiness. Shortly, I will leave to pick up my 4-year-old granddaughter, Kirsa. Together she and I will bake and paint and, yes, perhaps even dance.