Studio Training Solutions®

Considering the health issues, culture wars, economic impact, and stress caused by COVID-19, a person might be hard pressed to see any pandemic positives. But not Jennifer and Jon Lyons, whose daughter Charlotte (now 13) was diagnosed with aplastic anemia, a rare but serious condition in which a body stops producing enough red blood cells, in May of 2020.

“We could see the silver lining” in COVID-19, Jennifer says, talking about how the closed-down and masked-up state of the world during the pandemic meant that Charlotte and her family “didn’t feel as isolated as we would have in the typical world” as she prepared for and then recovered from a July 2020 bone marrow transplant from her twin sister, Bridget.

“Everyone was wearing masks and no one was going to theme parks that summer,” Jennifer says. Because Charlotte’s longtime dance studio, Tonawanda Dance Arts in Tonawanda, New York, had jumped to remote learning when the shutdown struck, the young dancer was even able to participate in the (virtual) May recital and continue with her dance classes that fall. “Other than her teachers, no one even knew anything was going on with her.”

For Tonawanda teacher Miranda Spada, watching her young student face such a serious diagnosis “always with a smile on her face” was a lesson in courage. “Things have been so overwhelming with COVID—this is the perfect example that you take the obstacles you are faced with and find the good,” Miranda says. “With the right mindset and attitude, you don’t just get through something like this, but you come out stronger and better.”

The twins, who began dancing as preschoolers, were well-known at the studio when Miranda and studio founder and director Melanie Boniszewski started to notice a change in Charlotte: the previously energetic preteen became lethargic and ceased to engage fully in her dance lessons. The dancer was also noticeably bruised so often that “What bruise does Charlotte have this week?” became a classroom tease. “Something was off, but I couldn’t pinpoint” if the change was rooted in social, emotional, or physical concerns, Miranda says.

Wondering if Charlotte was still interested in dance, the teachers approached her parents; meanwhile, the Lyons family had been talking to doctors about Charlotte’s symptoms and arranging for testing. The aplastic anemia diagnosis threw the family into a “whirlwind,” Jennifer says, yet they were in luck: although they are not identical twins, Bridget was a perfect match for a transplant.

The twins faced the medical procedure like pros, Jon says. “The first 24 hours for Charlotte were horrible, but she did great with it,” he says, while Bridget overcame her fear of needles and made it through what felt “like being hit in the back with a baseball bat,” Jon says, adding “she’s a tough little cookie.”

All the COVID mitigations of the following dance year—virtual class options, plus social distancing and Safer Studio™ protocols for in-studio dancers—made it possible for Charlotte to participate online before being cleared to return in person. Through it all the Tonawanda teachers let Charlotte dictate how and when information about her health and treatment would be shared with her classmates.

“In our studio we never want to state anything incorrect or seem like we are gossiping,” says Melanie, who coaches her staff on how to handle sensitive situations. “It’s not our story to tell.” But again, Jon says, COVID did the family a favor: Charlotte just took class from home, like so many other dancers. “It was never, ‘Here comes the sick kid,’ and she didn’t miss out on anything,” he says.

When Charlotte returned to the studio in person, there had been some changes. Her hair, lost during chemotherapy, was just starting to grow back, and she had to rebuild some of her confidence in class. And she no longer had Bridget at her side—her twin decided after years of dance to change activities and try volleyball. “But we were all back from COVID and things had changed for everyone,” Miranda says. “Every week Charlotte walks in and reminds me to look at my life and not take anything for granted.”

Melanie agrees. “If this kid can go through this at 12, 13 years old, I know I can get through anything.”

By this spring, it was clear the transplant “took”—Charlotte’s immune system is 100 percent Bridget’s, Jon says—and all signs point to a healthy long-term prognosis. “A lot of families struggle because they can’t find a match,” he says, adding that alternative treatments don’t always lead to full cures. “I always say I don’t need to play the lottery because I already won it.”

“I know she’s only 18 months old, but I’m certain she’s going to be a dancer!”

Instead of a gushing, new-to-dance parent, the speaker was Emily Weber, the Point Park University-trained dancer and owner of Your Performing Arts Center (YPAC) in Yorkville, Illinois. Years ago, on a family vacation in Florida, she marveled at how her niece, Natalie Heldmann, expressed such joy as she danced about. Natalie’s parents responded politely—“Oh well, yes, she loves to dance”—but Emily insisted: “Oh no—this is what she will do for her life! You need to prepare for this.”

Flash forward to this spring. Natalie, now 14, was excitedly preparing to attend London’s Royal Ballet spring intensive and had already been accepted to The HARID Conservatory for summer 2022. The very best kind of bunhead, Natalie trains hard because ballet is so much fun she doesn’t want to stop. She adores New York City Ballet’s Tiler Peck, takes freshman-level math and language (she’s in the 8th grade), participates in student government, is learning to choreograph, raises money for a nature conservatory, and has a 100 percent acceptance rate to top-level pre-professional ballet programs.

Yet even with all that, what impresses Emily the most about her niece is Natalie’s almost preternatural good mood. “Her attitude is amazing all the time. She’s 100 percent ‘there,’ not thinking of other things that are going on. She’s present and ready to work—we use that phrase a lot lately, because I’m just inspired by her strong mindset,” she says.

Natalie, in turn, is inspired by her aunt’s energy. “It’s interesting how she can get so much done; she’s so driven it drives me to get work done. She also works really hard to create a kind environment” at YPAC, she says, where students are encouraged to celebrate each other’s achievements.

In many ways, YPAC and Natalie grew up together. Nine years ago, as Emily prepped for her studio’s opening, 5-year-old Natalie was by her side, applying glue on the new floors with a 2-inch sponge. “She literally helped me build the floors she dances on,” Emily says.

And while Emily was designing her studio’s programming around a strong ballet base, she thought often about how to best train, support, encourage, and protect Natalie and other serious dancers.

“At a very young age we saw this in her and we were able to create our graded technique program for students like Natalie,” Emily says. “It was important for us to create that sense of love and sustainability so that Natalie wouldn’t burn out—she could be a kid and also train.”

A staff of former professional Joffrey Ballet dancers keep YPAC standards high, yet the schedule makes time for academics, family, friends, and other activities. Unlike many of her peers at Youth America Grand Prix or pre-professional summer intensives, Natalie dances three (rather than five) days a week and attends public school.

Through the years no matter what Emily needed, Natalie was there—greeting audiences as the Sugar Plum Fairy, marching in parades, and lining up little dancers backstage at performances. She shows gratitude to her teachers, thanks the front desk workers, and sets an example for others with her work ethic and consistency (always on time, always in full dress code).

Yet family relationships within a studio environment can be tricky, and Emily has been careful to stress to her niece that her accomplishments are her own. “When she told me she got into HARID, I told her, ‘This is not because your aunt owns [a dance studio]’,” Emily says. It was because of Natalie’s own hard work. “The ‘I want to do it’ has to come from within.”

In fact, Natalie wasn’t completely sold on ballet until she attended a School of American Ballet intensive at age 13. The professional atmosphere—where all the dancers were laser-focused and no correction was too small—stirred something in her creative soul. “I got to dance so much. The teacher gave me so much valuable information. I could take it and improve so much as a dancer,” she says.

Now she’s looking to challenge herself, and is hopeful that this summer’s HARID intensive might lead to an invitation to the year-round program, and someday to a professional ballet company. “When I’m dancing I’m at my happiest,” Natalie says. “I can convey a message and I don’t have to say anything. I’m grateful for my body—I can move and I can dance and I can tell a story. Dance is my passion.”

Picture a dancer, self-conscious and struggling, a back-row regular with a heart of gold. On the advice of a concerned teacher the girl spends the summer at a picturesque dance camp in the mountains and—blaBLAM!—she finds her mojo and becomes a star.

This might sound like a Disney Channel tween movie, but it’s real life starring Jillian Olson. “You know how in movies and TV shows there is always that one character in all the high school clubs and activities? I always wanted to be that person—until I got to camp and started to be that person,” says Jillian, a high school senior and lifelong dancer who describes her “after-camp” self as a “mixture of Sharpay from High School Musical and Blair from Gossip Girl.”

The teacher in this feel-good tale is Pam Simpson, also the studio owner of Forté Arts Center in Morris, Illinois. Although Jillian had started at the studio as a tot and progressed to the competition team, she wasn’t the “typical really advanced, really hungry dancer,” Pam says. When Jillian was around 14 and her mom expressed “wanting her to do more things,” Pam sought to create a “dance pathway” for her meek but creative student, suggesting she take a choreography class and also attend Camp Telaphiba, a summer dance retreat in Copper Mountain, Colorado.

“It changed her life,” Pam says of the camp. “She came back to dance a totally different person. She was a leader in the classroom. She’d stand in front, be the first to go across the floor. She believed in herself.”

Jillian remembers her former self as “very self-conscious in how I looked physically, how I danced, and how I was as a person inside, to the point where I didn’t like who I was.” In an environment where she could script a new self, Jillian responded to the staffers who complimented and encouraged her, made friends with dancers from around the country, and dared to try new activities like ziplining. At home, “people were comfortable with me being uncomfortable,” she says. At camp, people “saw me as a dancer and as a person.”

Back at Forté, Jillian embraced the role of leader, dancing down front “so people can watch me and see how I love dancing,” sharing her camp experience at a team meeting, and encouraging her younger teammates. At high school Jillian—who was always quiet—became involved in student government, started writing (she won a state award for short stories), and became “the person who brings the body glitter” and leads the chants during football games.

This past summer, recognizing her leadership potential, Camp Telaphiba administration asked Jillian to serve as a counselor-in-training for the summer of 2022. Pam says her student never thought she’d achieve that honor. Thrilled, Jillian responded by writing a lengthy, heartfelt “thank you” that praised all her Forté teachers, called out younger studio dancers for the growth she’s seen them experience, and described the camp as a “toy fixer for broken China dolls” because “this camp has fixed me.”

Today the teenager who often felt unseen talks at length about being a leader. She finds inspiration in Miss Pam as a female business owner, and rather than a technical feat, her “dance goal” is to show younger dancers how to believe in themselves and be happy in dance. “Push yourself to the front and be that person you’ve been seeing on the Disney channel movie,” Jillian says.

As a studio owner and teacher, Pam was there during the COVID pandemic when Jillian (like so many other young dancers) felt isolated and troubled, advising her to stay strong and trust herself. Jillian told her director that all she could think about was that special moment at her senior recital when Pam would give her a hug and “talk about what I mean to you” in front of an audience of family and friends. “Since I was 6, I’ve dreamed of being on that stage with the graduates,” she explained.

Pam was stunned. Sure, it was studio tradition for her to send off each senior with some heartfelt words, but she never realized just how much that recital moment meant to dancers like Jillian, who weren’t destined to win a first-place solo trophy. Pam says she’s been thinking anew about how studio traditions such as pep rallies and pizza parties, social media spotlights and studio jackets, five-year trophies and 10-year hoodies, function as important milestones in her dancers’ lives.

“In our dance world, we celebrate the high achievements and those technical triple-turn dancers, but don’t always stop to notice the kid in the back who needs the extra attention and love,” Pam says. “Jillian’s is a great story for dance teachers—let’s remember to look out for and celebrate everyone, especially the kids like her who just love to dance.”

The accident happened on a rainy football field. With one wrong step, high school pom dancer Giuliana Siraguso tore her ACL, MCL, LCL, and meniscus. With such a sweeping knee injury, doctors told her she might never dance again.

She didn’t believe them. “Doctors told me I couldn’t dance and be deaf,” she says. “I didn’t listen to them the first time, so why would I listen to them now?”

Giuliana, who is indeed almost completely deaf, locked her leg in an ankle-to-hip brace, did daily physical therapy plus at-home exercises, and rehabbed for a year. When she rejoined her competitive teammates at Priscilla and Dana’s School of Dance in North Kansas City, Missouri, Giuliana was right back where she had been—powering through technical, high-point-scoring routines, pursuing professional dance opportunities, and serving as a role model for the studio’s younger set.

“Dana taught us to push through and not give up when you really want something,” Giuliana, 15, says, mentioning how her studio director found a way to hold classes after the studio roof collapsed under heavy snow or during COVID. “The injury was just another obstacle to push through to get back to being the dancer I want to be.”

Studio owner Dana McGuire says Giuliana’s immediate injury reaction—“Dad, I have to dance half-time”—sums up her student. “She’s confident and resilient and doesn’t take no for an answer,” Dana says. “She doesn’t think any task is too big because she’s always had to work hard.”

That hard work started at birth. Born with auditory dissequency and neurological hearing loss—basically, the nerves attaching the brain to the ear are frayed—Giuliana is 95 percent deaf in one ear and 97 percent in the other. Her mother Carol Jo Scola-Siraguso says when the other neighborhood kids started joining dance, she wanted to register her daughter as well. After two studios turned them down, Carol finally found Dana’s, where she says her 2-and-a-half-year-old daughter “fell in love and refused to leave.”

Dana remembers Carol saying, “Just to let you know, she’s deaf,” and suggesting Dana look at Giuliana when speaking. “She wasn’t asking for anything special,” Dana says. “I started teaching by looking her in the eyes, and I’ve been doing it ever since.”

Although she wears hearing aids (toupée tape prevents them from flying out of her ears when she turns), Giuliana describes what she can hear as “in between radio stations.” She stays on the music by feeling the back beat vibrations through the floor, studying the lyrics (which she can’t hear) at home. She’s a master lip reader, but in rehearsal must learn choreography while watching the demonstrating teacher’s lips reflected in the mirror.

She does such a good job that, at dance competition, Carol has heard not-so-whispered doubts about her title-holding daughter’s deafness. “Yeah, well, cover your mouth and talk to her,” Carol says. “We never treat her like she has a disability. If you live in a world where people are not deaf you have to rise to the occasion.”

Many deaf persons grow up in multigenerational deaf families, but Giuliana is the solo deaf person in hers. When doctors told Carol that clear speech would be an impossibility, she enrolled Giuliana in a school for the deaf (to learn to read lips, body language, Braille, and sign) as well as a regular academic school, and explored three options for speech therapy.

Today, Giuliana’s speech is clear, the same as any person with typical hearing. She’s a wonderful turner with great balance—another skill that has shocked the doctors. As might be expected, tap isn’t her favorite genre—but she still achieves high scores. Last year’s pandemic, when everyone was in masks, was just another obstacle to crush.

And boy, is she crushing it: she’s the soulful soloist in a Shawn Mendes video, the energetic spitfire lip synching to Kelly Clarkson on Nickelodeon’s LipSync Battle Shorties, the petite pretzel posing with New York City strangers during a Jordan Matter 10 Minute Photo Challenge video (which has logged 4.6-plus million views since 2018).

Recently she played a character based on herself in Sound Off, a 2021 movie short written by filmmaker and former Kansas City TV news host Michelle Davidson Bratcher. In it, Giuliana’s character helps a young dancer who suddenly goes deaf.

With every achievement, Giuliana’s helping people see what’s possible—rather than impossible—for a person with a disability. “I’m able to do something that I love and want to do,” she says. “You just might have to take a different path to follow your dreams.”

Ever seen a TV or magazine ad that features a dancer executing cringe-worthy technique and thought, “Gee, would it have been so hard for that [insurance company, workout wear designer, air freshener maker, etc.] to hire a consultant who actually knew about dance?”

Austin Roberson knows dance. He’s been a student, a professional performer, and a dance teacher. But he hasn’t been a studio owner. So when Austin decided to take his immense knowledge of online marketing and create an all-in-one marketing and class management system, he rounded up some studio owners. Their suggestions, advice, and desires are the foundation of ClassKid studio software, launching in 2022.

In Austin’s words, ClassKid collects all the various management and communication systems used by a studio into “one ecosystem,” eliminating the need for multiple software subscriptions and integrations.

“It’s our mission to connect kids to a community of classes,” says Austin, who is developing the software in business partnership with Misty Lown. He grew up as a dancer at The Dance Factory in Topeka, Kansas, and “many times during difficult or dramatic times in my life I’d rely on the community at the studio.

“Our software gets more kids into the experience that Misty and I had growing up in dance—and also allows owners to run their businesses faster and smarter.”

Systems development is a road Austin knows well. After receiving a strategic communication degree from the University of Kansas he experimented with marketing at Point B Dance in Lawrence, Kansas (where he trained, taught and performed), building a website and running the studio’s online paid marketing. Good word-of-mouth generated similar assignments at other studios, and Austin grew confident in his ability to not only design successful marketing campaigns but teach studio owners how to do the same. He was also performing professionally, working gigs with Royal Caribbean, national tours, and in a Kansas City production of Chicago, when back surgery forced him off the stage for six months. During that hiatus, Austin decided to go all in on studio marketing services.

In short time he founded Dance Studio Desk (launched under the name Studio Owners Academy), an online studio owner marketing training program in 2016. He later launched Studio Suite, a marketing automation and sales CRM (customer relationship management) tool in 2019.

Through Studio Suite, which worked in conjunction with online systems already in place at a studio such as dance management software, Austin uncovered what he saw as the “real problem.”

“The average studio owner uses five to seven software tools to grow and run their business,” he says, such as Acuity, Trello, and Mailchimp. Because many of these tools require subscriptions, studio software costs can range from $300 to $2,000 a month. “On top of the pain of the multiple subscription costs, the platforms don’t talk to each other. Sometimes you need another software” to connect them—if the platforms integrate at all, he says.

With a mind to solve this problem, Austin created a founding advisory membership in late 2020 and began attracting studio owners. His goal was to glean insight into what they loved and didn’t love about their current marketing and management systems. Meeting online as a group, owners from 67 studios in four countries explained their needs feature by feature, touching on billing, dashboards, new student reporting, text and email communications, and more. Misty Lown was also consulted, with her suggestions for various features such as the timetable (schedule-at-a-glance) included in the design.

At this time ClassKid is well into its development phase, but Austin still actively seeks thoughts and suggestions from individual owners who booked a demonstration and/or placed their name on the ClassKid waitlist. (Participants receive perks such as discounts and early access in exchange for their time, he says.)

The result will be a system, he believes, that simplifies operations, works to attract and retain students, and provides owners with a quick and accurate visual insight into their business. For example, when studio owners log in they can see how many students were added in the previous week and the system can build its own reports on enrollment (or other areas). Other features will support task management, automation, email and text, landing pages, online store, website, pipeline marketing, parent/student portals, staff/payroll, billing, and class management.

Marketing and sales features will allow studio owners to follow potential customers: if someone books a trial class, the software will send an email confirmation, then track if that student showed up for the trial, signed up, or if a staffer has completed follow-up. Future revenue is projected for trial students who do enroll—a hard figure that also shows just how much revenue is lost when potential students slip away. “Never again will a potential student fill out a paper slip and it’s never talked about again,” he says.

One of the most exciting aspects, he says, was developing a visual flow chart of each student as a unique individual within the studio: to include each’s “family tree,” noting if a child prefers ballet or tap, if she is a sibling and to who, first and secondary contacts, and if her parents are separated (and, if so, which parent pays what part of the tuition). “It’s fairly complex and I know now why no one else has built this software,” Austin says.

ClassKid also tackles another studio bugaboo: communication. Owners can message (text or email) one-on-one with families, by class, by students in a specific program, or internally (with staff). But more importantly, they can see through an activity feed which messages were opened and read. Phase two (after the initial launch) will include an app with push notifications that will pop up on customers’ iPhones alerting them to important events (“Reminder: Adelaide’s recital is Saturday at 3pm!”).

For a personalized touch, the software’s online visuals will feature each studio’s logo and color scheme throughout: for example, customers shopping in the studio’s online store will only see the studio’s brand, not ClassKid.

Through his research, Austin asked his dance studio owner advisors to answer four basic questions concerning their software systems: What do you want us to keep? To improve? To start building? To stop building?

Their comments, based on years of hard-won, first-hand experience, were invaluable, he says. As an example, he pointed out how ClassKid’s schedule-at-a-glance feature—which allows owners to easily find gaps or available space in their rooms that could be filled with income-producing programming—sprung from Misty’s understanding of this complex relationship. “Studio rent (or mortgage) is one of the largest parts of a studio owner’s operating expense,” Misty says, “so maximizing scheduling is vital to overall studio health.”

The result, he believes, is an all-inclusive product that works for both the business and its customers. “We thought a lot about what studios need, but also what the end user needs,” he says. “The largest segment of buyers soon will be millennial parents, ages 28 to 45. This is built for the modern-day parent.”

Interested in learning more? Visit ClassKid.com

The Great Dance Studio Shutdown of 2020 was, for many studio owners, an unprecedented nightmare.Some met the moment by offering a version of their in-person lessons online, then dialed back on virtual teaching as soon as occupancy restrictions allowed. Yet other studio owners discovered how to harness technology to enhance their studio offerings and even create previously unimagined revenue opportunities.

“As dance artists we have a unique ability to think creatively. Plug into your creative side and think big,” advises Neisha Hernandez, whose online offerings at Neisha’s Dance & Music Academy in San Diego range from a popular goal-setting program for recreational students to a virtual lecture by a sports psychologist for 100 company dancers. Let’s take a look at three studios with various budgets and tech know-how to see how each has found the awesome—and the longevity—in their online offerings.

Doing a lot with little

When the shutdown hit, Kristine Smith, CEO and co-founder of InSpira Performing Arts & Cultural Center in New Brunswick, New Jersey, had just opened a second location in Newark February 1 and had little extra money to purchase fancy tech gadgetry. “My motto—and I say this a lot—is ‘find a way or make one,’” Kristine says. “I looked at what other studios did, and I wanted to do more, but it wasn’t in my budget. I had to do what worked for me.”

Relying on the technical know-how of her college-age twin daughters, Kristine’s initial shutdown strategy was to pre-record lessons that she uploaded to Vimeo or Google Classroom, but very quickly realized this system didn’t work for her clients, mostly Black and brown customers living in greater NY/NJ and hit hard by COVID.

Kristine pivoted to Zooming her entire class schedule, supplementing regular lessons with fun online extras such as a free daily storytime, Zoom dance parties (even with a DJ!), tea parties, and a mother-and-daughter paint party. While some stressed-out families did leave the studio, those who stayed appreciated her efforts to “lighten their load” and provide normalcy for their children, Kristine says.

When her 2020-21 season started in September, New Jersey’s maximum occupancy was 25 percent. Smith responded with a live/online hybrid of teams that switched off weekly: when “red” dancers attended class in person, the “purple” dancers would attend online. Students and staffers not comfortable with in-person instruction could take or teach class online only as part of the “blue” team.

This system—created with little financial expense—has been so successful that her website home page announces “The New HYBRID INSPIRA” in gigantic block type. It allowed Kristine to provide safety and comfort to a client base deeply scarred by living in the virus’s epicenter. After news of her studio’s hybrid model was shared on social media, dancers who reside out of driving distance, including those from southern New Jersey, Georgia, and Illinois, have enrolled and attend classes virtually.

A handful of parents balked at going hybrid, wanting a full return to the studio, but since Kristine and several faculty members lost close family members to COVID, safety was her number one priority. “I’m going to stay with this hybrid for the entire season,” she says, “but it’s also making me look at online as a potential new market.”

Tapping into tech’s potential

Last March when many studio owners were saying “What’s Zoom?,” tech-enthusiast Martin “Marty” Bronson anticipated a rush and purchased several quality webcams for Flourish Dance Academy in Carol Stream, Illinois.

As a tapper he believed great sound quality for online tap classes was imperative, but research turned up little usable info on how to achieve it. So Marty created a custom Zoom rig: a sizable rolling AV (audio-visual) cart with a large TV, computer, sound mixer, and wireless mic system.

It works wonderfully. The teacher’s vocal instructions are captured by the enhanced wireless handset (with rechargeable batteries) and fed through the USB mixer (a smaller version of the sort of professional-level mixer you might see at a concert) along with the music from his/her phone/laptop, delivering a balanced, consistent sound quality to students via Zoom.

To train his teachers, Marty held multiple orientation sessions and recorded training videos, reiterating that good technical execution is not “just an extra thing they are being asked to do” but an essential function vital to the business’s continuing health. Within a week of its facility shutdown, Flourish was online and running smoothly.

Yet for Marty, rethinking his studio in terms of tech has “opened up a world of possibilities we never imagined.” With no theaters available for his 2020 spring recital, Marty instead spent his regular recital budget on curtains, theatrical lighting, and livestream software, transforming one classroom into a black box theater space.

For last winter’s recital, students’ performances were livestreamed for family at home from the black box using the webcams and audio purchased for COVID. The studio’s annual charity student showcase became a web series of dances and acting vignettes shared on social media.

Performances can be recorded in HD and embellished with graphics and text from free OBS (Open Broadcaster Software ®) for a true professional look. “For a little money and a steep learning curve you can add tons of production value to your programs,” says Marty, who is in talks with several professional dancers about streaming/recording some of their work from his black box space.

By spring 2021, about 10 percent of Flourish students were still attending classes virtually, including two students who moved out of driving distance. Tech has allowed Marty to offer increased value to his current clients through providing private lessons and Zooming in guest teachers, and he believes it will continue to work to attract new clients: future marketing plans for Flourish will highlight the studio’s “live virtual” classes, he says.

This goal clearly answers the first question of what. It is clear, measurable, and you’ll know if you have succeeded or not at the end of the year. But it seems like a pretty massive idea, so it needs to be pulled apart into smaller steps in order to be achievable.

The great outdoors

When the shutdown struck, Neisha and her tech-wiz husband Bernard made an “instant” decision to Zoom the studio’s entire schedule of dance and music classes, and quickly bought five laptops and HD/wide angle webcams.

When in-person classes resumed for the 2020-21 season, that equipment was supplemented with Bluetooth speakers and headsets with mics and moved outdoors to five tents erected as outdoor classrooms in the Southern California studio’s parking lot. Ethernet cables bypass the uncertain Wi-Fi service and assure that both music and teacher’s comments patched directly into the online Zoom feeds are heard clearly by virtual students.

Realizing that any technology used in the outdoor tents would have to be set up and broken down every day, Neisha and Bernard kept the systems as simple as possible. A crew of three young men hired and trained by Bernard handle the setup/breakdown as well as the fans/heaters, lighting systems, tarps, and flooring at use in the outdoor classrooms—both say they are proud of these new tech-based jobs that didn’t exist pre-pandemic.

With imagination and open minds, Neisha and Bernard have thought of endless ways to exploit their studio’s new tech capabilities. The “Dance is My Passion” 30-day challenge, adapted from an idea suggested by another MTJGD™ member, was a rousing success. Twenty-five participants set dance-related goals and participated in both group and one-on-one virtual coaching sessions led by a studio teacher, sharing success stories and support through a dedicated Facebook page. “This was a way to re-engage students with our school,” Neisha says. “The kids gained confidence in themselves and bonded as a group. We will absolutely continue this in the future.”

Online programming included Princess Pop Up—students tuned in weekly to sing and dance with a popular “princess”—and Jingle Jam, a three-week session featuring 30-minutes of holiday-themed dancing. Both were hits with pandemic-weary parents uneasy about making long-term commitments—about half of the Jingle Jam participants were unregistered students, Neisha says.

With a tech-enabled studio, Neisha’s ability to hire subs and guest teachers has expanded from her local neighborhood to literally “the world.” This season her students have taken class from teachers hailing from Chicago, Northern California, Florida, Tennessee, and
even Japan.

Tech is here to stay

Neisha says her customers appreciate the freedom of virtual lessons: about five percent of her dance students are regular “onliners” with a handful who occasionally Zoom-in based on circumstances. “They can customize it to their lives—that’s why they are happy and staying,” she says, adding that her full music program is still online-only. The virtual recreational programming such as Jingle Jam “provides a whole revenue stream we didn’t have before,” she says. “I think digital offerings will become a part of everyday dance life,” Bernard added. “The tech is going to get better and easier for everyone to use. It creates the ability to reach more people, which is great for our whole studio.”

Marty’s advice for studio owners who intend to continue to offer online options is to update their technology to provide the best virtual experience possible. “A laptop in the corner of the room” won’t cut it, he says. And while he enjoys researching and learning about the latest tech, he appreciates that not all studio owners are so inclined. His suggestion? Search online for guides to setting up audio-visual systems—a quality system can be had for less than $1,000. If that’s an intimidating thought, seek out “good nerds” at your local music store or online tech-centric community who can offer advice.

“I’m psyched about this as an idea,” Marty says. “Once people get over their initial apprehensiveness, having a digital studio can only enhance our reach and improve
our engagement with customers.”

It was the crash heard ‘round the country. In mid-March, competitive teams were focused on typical worries about late-arriving costumes or injured dancers when COVID brought the season to an unexpected and unsettling halt. “We went to one comp in February and never thought it would be the last of the season,” says Meghan Dunn Gordon of Velocity Dance Center in Oklahoma City. “Our kids had worked hard and done well, so at least it was a high note.”

That team was lucky. Many others never made it onstage, leaving costumes unworn, choreography unshown, dancers upset, and parents wondering what happened to their hundreds (if not thousands) of dollars in fees and expenses. Summer 2020 came and went with most theaters and auditoriums still closed and restrictions still in place. What would the 2020-21 competitive season look like? How do you possibly plan for the unknown?

Amber Oslin Huffman of The Dance Complex in Maple Grove, Minnesota, realized the pandemic pause was the perfect time “to pump the brakes and look at what we are doing, what is necessary, and what is not,” she says. “Is our team program going in the direction we want, or are things just happening to us?” Meghan agreed. “This has forced us to make decisions. Rather than ‘this is the way we’ve always done it,’ we’re looking at what’s best.” Diamond School of Dance owner Alicia Knopps looked at how other youth activities in her community of Eau Claire, Wisconsin, were “dropping the ball,” and decided that what her team dancers needed most in these uncertain times was consistency. “I have moved mountains to keep everything the same as possible from auditions to summer intensive,” she says. “I feel everything we have done will be appreciated later.”

In this strangest of seasons, winning might not involve trophies at all. Let’s take a look at these three teams’ strategies for success.

Participating in competitions isn’t cheap, even in a regular season, but for many studios and parents last season felt like a complete financial loss. Would parents spooked by the possibility of a second shutdown balk at this year’s competition costs? Her team families were hit hard by COVID shutdowns, Meghan says, and she wanted to know where they stood before making decisions. At several roundtable meetings she learned that “they felt they had made a large investment and were not done with last year’s dances.” In response, she decided to re-block and repeat last year’s entries, with each group getting one new dance only.

Her families’ fiscally conservative stance also impacted tuition: Velocity offers two pricing plans, and this year about 65 percent went with the “basic class pass,” while in previous years, about 80 percent chose the pricier “all class pass.” By restructuring team levels and combining classes, Meghan was able to cut multiple classes off her payroll. She also restructured her teams’ 12-month payment plan to ease her families’ monthly burden—this season, she’s collecting competition fees earlier and in smaller installments, holding them in escrow and paying out to competitions only if it seems certain the events are a go.

Meghan usually plans her entire upcoming season in June to provide dates and events to parents well in advance. This year after securing a promise from parents to remain flexible, she planned a non-traditional schedule of early-season events—with everything subject to change—and announced a company fee increase for the 2021-22 season which allows her clients a year to prepare. “I’m being very transparent with the good, the bad, and the ugly, and our parents are trusting us to make the best decisions possible,” she says.

At Diamond, the greatest number of Zoom gripes came from team parents, who pay the highest tuition bills and “didn’t feel online classes were worth the value,” Alicia says. Many dropped, and by her May team parent meeting, Alicia knew she had to meet the situation head-on. “I knew I needed a rock-solid plan that offered stability” and would allay parents’ fears. Her plan had three major points: a cancellation (not a refund) policy, which allows dancers to stop tuition with one month’s notice; the studio’s willingness to purchase technology that would enhance any future Zoom experiences; and an extension of the traditional season by two weeks to absorb any potential short-term shutdowns.

Teching-out the studio was a major expense. All four of Alicia’s classroom spaces now have livestreaming capabilities and wide-screen TVs. Teacher lapel mics and audio mixers guarantee quality sound, and cameras that hang from the middle of the studio provide a “student-eyed” view. “I also promised we’d only attend competitions that offered 100 percent refunds,” she says. “I made the season easy and risk-free—the only risk was costumes, and I promised to put on some kind of performance where the kids could wear them.” It seems to have worked. In early September her studio’s enrollment was down 200 (from 700 to 500) from pre-COVID, but her team was at 120, only about 20 students less than last season. “Fear is holding people back right now. They don’t want to sign up for something and lose money,” Alicia says.

Last March 7-9, Amber’s 150 Dance Complex team members were on a high after a successful showing at Kids Artistic Revue (KAR) Dance Competition. By the following weekend, in-person events had vanished—yet with KAR videos of all 220 entries in hand, Amber was able to enter her team in several of the online competitions (Radix, New York City Dance Alliance) that sprung up in response to COVID shutdowns.

She was impressed with how competitions adapted to an online format, and when Hall of Fame announced an in-person event with separate time slots for individual studios and strict cleaning protocols, she brought 11 soloists to try that format as well. “Those families were agreeable to try this event no matter what it looked like,” Amber says. “We all felt this was one of the most normal things our dancers did all summer long. We were able to go back to the full team and say, ‘We’ve done it, and we can give you insight into how it runs.’”

With those experiences, Amber made a commitment to her team families for a full, traditional season—all new numbers, no skimping on costumes. She moved auditions up to mid-July, held a two-week intensive, promised to attend “refund-only” events, and laid out this season’s truth as she saw it: “I have plans, but they are fluid; to participate you must agree to be fluid, too.” Parents responded, and her team is up about 11 members from last season. Amber felt it was best to attack the uncertainty of this coming season head-on too. “I didn’t want to make plans based on current restrictions, ‘cause they could change again,” says Amber, who has one team dancer who plans to Zoom in for all classes and rehearsals. “Instead, we are going to proceed forward as if this is a normal year and pivot around obstacles as they come at us.”

Within the competitive team environment, this year has offered up unique circumstances as well as unexpected gifts. “Just managing emotions and people’s feelings has been challenging,” Meghan says. Some team dancers are living their lives like normal, while others have barely left their houses since March. Pandemic-shocked clients seem prone to bursts of anger, plus an unusual level of confusion. “It’s like they even forgot how to read the company calendar,” Meghan says, adding that on the plus side, typical team dramas over levels and rules have disappeared. “Everyone is overwhelmed and just trying to navigate all this.”

Alicia agreed. “We have been extremely organized with parents because our world is in chaos,” she says. Her conversations with competition companies—one that hemmed and hawed about possible closure refunds, another that promised an immediate check in the mail—helped her understand what her own customers were feeling. “If a team dancer wants to drop because they are afraid of COVID, maybe we’ll suggest they just do a solo,” Alicia says. “Giving people freedom of choice and saying we’ll work with them is better than letting them walk out the door.”

Amber assisted her team parents in the creation of a booster club, hopeful that its fundraising efforts will help ease their financial burden. She’s gotten in the habit of “over-communicating,” sending out reassuring emails even when she doesn’t have any new info to impart or explaining the evolving nature of live versus virtual events. “It’s less scary and stressful if they’re fully prepared for anything,” she says.

Meghan says, facing this year’s challenges is forcing her to become a better leader. She’s firmer—“Literally it’s ‘if you wear a mask, you can come to class; if not, you’ll have to dance on Zoom’”—and she can better diffuse clients’ anger about such decisions. Also, with class-size restrictions forcing decisions, she didn’t miss the endless hours she and her staff normally would spend agonizing over putting the team in “perfect groups.” “Maybe I’ll always do levels like this,” she says.

“Surprisingly, this has enabled us to be bold and make hard choices because life itself is already hard,” says Alicia, who cut ties with a team parent who complained that the 200-plus classes Diamond offered online weren’t free. Alicia’s also made tough decisions on spending (gone are her studio’s beautiful brochures) and staffing (she’s handling front desk duties herself). “Before when things were OK maybe you didn’t want to rock the boat, but now I’ve gone through this and I’m willing to walk this new path.”

With the competitions themselves still learning how to navigate a new normal, Alicia is confident this season will provide plenty of positive experiences for her dancers, staff, and parents. “My teachers are figuring out how to do cool competition choreography with no touching,” she says. “I’m not sitting back and just surviving—I want to get back to thriving. We’re doing all we can to come out of this without missing a beat.”

At Velocity, Meghan is considering second-wave shutdown plans such as buying a stage for outdoor performances or partnering with another studio and flying in (or Zooming in!) judges to adjudicate entries. She’s also thinking up creative replacements for traditional team social events such as pool parties. “I’m trying to show the dancers things can be hard and different, but here’s what we’re learning about resilience and flexibility,” she says.

While this season will no doubt be different, Amber admitted that “there has to be a season or competitions will close. We as dance educators have to decide—do we want opportunities to compete in the future, or do we want to sit at home?”

Call it the year of the improv.

Samantha Bower runs a family theater, a Broadway-focused performing group, and a dance studio with a large musical theater program in Sudbury, Massachusetts. This summer, when in-person education resumed but COVID-restrictions suggested that choruses shouldn’t sing and actors couldn’t touch, Samm knew the show must go on—but how?

“I’m an entrepreneur and this is what I thrive on. We are in a crisis and we have to solve problems and make things work,” says Samm, owner and artistic director of The Performing Arts Connection. “It’s knowing at the end of the day that I can’t just quit. I’ve worked too long and hard for some pandemic to take it all away.”

Teaching dance in social distancing squares might have its limitations, but studio owners who offer activities besides dance had additional challenges. How do you virtually rehearse a play? Coordinate a wind ensemble over Zoom? Spot an aerial from six feet away?

Samm’s initial thoughts of “Oh no, we can’t do this,” exacerbated by unclear state guidelines (Are we a youth sport? Are we martial arts? Are we a gym?), disappeared as she put her rethought-out program in action. Directors could block a musical and keep kids six feet apart. Students could read lines while wearing masks. Unable to touch props, students could mime. Without fancy sets or multiple costume changes, Samm still provided her students with a great theater experience. “We gave every child his or her moment. That’s what it’s all about,” she says.

Read on to learn how four studio owners reached into their own reserves of creativity to provide great experiences in theater, music, gymnastics, preschool, and cheer for their clients.

Nina Tishkevich is first and foremost a musician.

Throughout the spring shutdown and subsequent summer and fall reopening, her main concern was retaining the high-quality education Music & Dance Academy in Tucson, Arizona, has long provided its students. “We knew online classes have less personal interaction, so we tried to give more value,” she says of their music classes. Zoom lessons were recorded, allowing students to re-watch and practice the lesson again and again. Supplemental instruction included music-based interactive story times where young students could sing or play along, and pre-recorded educational videos for different age groups. Since a parent’s encouragement and support is a large part of a successful music student, Nina says, music parents received written articles via email and “parent training” sessions with faculty on Zoom or by phone.

While vocal or instrumental solo lessons were Zoom-friendly, it was trickier to transfer group music classes online. As a chorus works to perfect harmonies or a string ensemble a symphonic blend, it’s imperative that students hear each other in real time. The studio made a major financial investment in technology such as TVs, amplifiers, microphones, and cameras, and Nina invested time and money to train her teachers to adapt to online instruction. Pre-recording piano accompaniments and student headphone use worked to mitigate online lag-times and audio quality.

As changes were made, Nina increased communication to parents, including sending out (and acting upon) surveys, and personal phone calls. “We are a big school but we try not to be big business,” she says. “When the director calls you to ask, ‘How are things going? Do you need any help?’ it’s a big deal.”

Nina’s long-term plan had been to switch her music program to a year-round schedule in 2020-21 and raise tuition accordingly for the extra weeks of instruction. Despite COVID, she did both. “We sent an email saying beginning August 1, tuition will be this,” she says. “We heard back from two parents—they questioned why, then said it was fine.” Throughout everything, her music program’s retention rate was 95 percent. Surprisingly, when the academy resumed in-studio private classes August 17, most of her music students opted to keep learning via Zoom.

During the summer, Arizona COVID numbers “were a nightmare,” she says—about 60 percent of her dancers also choose the online option. “We can keep our distance now. That’s OK with me,” she says. She’s still planning two outdoor recitals for the fall—she’ll just roll a couple pianos outside. When the academy’s 25th anniversary all-school gala planned for March was cancelled, Nina held a “red carpet” recital for her dancers. Her music students’ live streamed performances lasted nine hours over two days. Graduating senior musicians are still being showcased in traditional solo recitals—only now they’re live streamed to as many as 25 family and friends. “It’s important for people to see the results of all the students’ hard work,” Nina says.

Southern Cheer Elite and Bloom Fine Arts Preschool,

two businesses in Lyman, South Carolina, closed for nine weeks this spring although, technically, they could have remained open. “Preschools here never closed,” Lindsay McKenna, co-owner with Amber Brackett, says. “Dance studios were considered essential businesses. I don’t regret closing, and we were able to open a lot sooner than studios elsewhere.” This summer, with studio enrollment down 25 percent from pre-COVID levels, having a preschool program “saved our business,” Lindsay says. With its building already open mornings for its preschool, the studio easily welcomed in 24 kindergarten through seventh grade students for their Learning Hub online schooling. Amber shifted her day-to-day duties to focus on the Learning Hub, assisted by one of the studio’s gymnastic coaches, a college elementary education major.

“It was kind of a no-brainer,” Lindsay says. “We spent about $100 on Facebook ads, but we actually did very little marketing—most of the Learning Hub kids are current or former students.” Adding to the revenue stream was Southern Cheer’s decision to open the season six weeks earlier than the previous, a move that meshed perfectly with the studio’s plan to expand into a year-round program.

“COVID gave us a logistical reason to start sooner: ‘We missed you and we know you want your kids to come back to class and back to normal’,” Lindsay says. “We played that card the whole way through.” Cheer and tumbling parents were polled to gauge their comfort levels with hands-on spotting and team stunts. While parents of private students wanted coaches to spot, most group classes remained hands-off. Cheer routines were adapted to eliminate contact.

Both Bloom Fine Arts and Southern Cheer followed safety recommendations, such as temperature checks and social distancing spots. But realizing there isn’t a tape square in the world that can stop an energetic three-year-old, the owners upped the preschool’s already high standard of cleanliness and have been meticulous about hand washing. The preschool also reduced its maximum enrollment from 14 to 12 a class.

Never a program that relied on fancy equipment, Southern Cheer classes were modified to reduce tumbling runs in favor of stations where students individually work on specific acrobatic and strength skills. Stations are cleaned after each rotation. With no time wasted waiting to take turns, Southern Cheer students are becoming stronger, better athletes. “This is something we are going to keep in our curriculum moving forward even after we are safe and can resume those other activities,” she says.

While being in the low-restriction state of South Carolina made some things easier, it also meant that Southern Cheer and Bloom Fine Arts had to lead the way. “It was scary to be first, but we just put one foot in front of the other, Lindsay says. “We have very loyal families, and others have become more loyal when they saw how we handled everything.”

At Kidz-In-Step Dance & Gym in covington, Georgia,

Jennifer Andrews-Smith’s gymnastics program is cruising. During eight weeks of Zoom classes last spring, she experienced “a ton of drops,” but her in-studio summer gym program filled right up and stayed filled as she moved into fall. “I feel very fortunate,” she says, adding that her dance enrollment is still slightly down.

She’s made very few modifications. When she opened 17 years ago, Jennifer capped gym class enrollment at 10 students based upon comments she had been hearing from parents about other local gym programs. “They wanted a more personal environment, not multiple classes in a big open gym, with the radio playing inappropriate songs for the teens” taking class in the same space,” she says. Today her gym program runs classes from Mommy and Me through high school, including a tumbling team that competes. The gym runs four classes four nights a week, with 10 kids in a class, and fall classes were completely sold out.

Other than wearing masks, her instructors are teaching class the same as always. Equipment gets wiped down in between classes, and hand sanitizer is ubiquitous, but since Georgia hasn’t mandated masks, mask wearing for students is voluntary. When in-person classes resumed, Jennifer was careful to communicate gym safety measures to parents, but now that’s “not the message I’m sending. We’re carrying on doing our thing. I feel the parents can see what we’re doing and they are OK with it. I haven’t had one complaint.”

THE PERFORMING ARTS CONNECTIon finds a way.

Every single aspect of Samm’s summer musical theater program, including weekly workshops of shows such as “Alice in Wonderland” and “Aristocats,” underwent a COVID revision. She maxed class enrollment at 10, which reduced her usual revenues by half. With a tiny backstage area, she nixed entrances and exits and instead directed students to stay onstage for the entire musical with a chair as their “home base.” That led to other creative directing choices: during a scene written for two actors, the others would be employed as background extras; songs written for leads became production numbers. Each child had one costume with a few changeable accessories that “lived” on their home-base chair—no one else touched it. Not your usual “High School Musical,” but a personalized experience for each child.

Moving into the fall, Samm had a cast of 100 working on “Moana Jr.” with an emphasis on acting and dancing. Early in the pandemic, choral singing was believed to be a super-spreader, and while Samm stays current on ongoing research regarding singing and COVID exposure, “The good thing is that we can sing karaoke at home and record it,” she says. For theater-based programs that must pay hefty royalties, loss of ticket sales from reduced audience sizes can be financially devastating. Samm’s summer productions invited only one spectator per student. To absorb that revenue drop and a less-than-usual fall enrollment, “Moana Jr.” featured simplified costumes (basic black, plus a colorful lei) and minimalistic sets and lighting.

It may not be business as usual, but at this point Samm is proud that she’s been able to keep her team employed, parents happy, and kids learning. “It’s been interesting to see how adaptable we are,” she says. “When you are thrown into this you might as well do it with joy and make it fun!”

In almost every arena of public life—fashion and entertainment, politics and technology—long-held customs about who is included and who is important are breaking down and opening up, bringing more acceptance of different ages, races, and genders. Challenges remain, of course, but strides are being made for an awakening in diversity. The Facebook group Dance Studio Owners of Color, founded by Savannah, Georgia, studio owner Anekia Boatwright-McGhee, serves to both celebrate and support the growth of diversity in dance.

The idea for the page grew out of Anekia’s experience attending dance conventions, where only about four or five of the hundreds of attendees would be studio owners of color. “We’d have conversations where we’d share common experiences and cultural nuances,” says Anekia, who owns Rebecca Padgett School of Performing Arts. “Dance can be a very lonely business sometimes, and we felt isolated in a community that is already isolated. I thought: ‘How do I find more of these people?’”

Starting the DSOC Facebook page proved revelatory. Five years old this summer, DSOC has 500-plus members from the U.S., Canada, South America, Africa, and Europe. “I see the same response when they find the group: ‘This is amazing—I don’t feel anymore that my voice is a solo voice.’”

Along with common-cause conversations on increasing enrollment and handling prickly clients, page members also discuss weighty issues such as battling stereotyping—for example, hearing the question, “So, as a studio owner of color, do you only have students of color?” They also talk about earning respect in a culture that places a heavier burden of expectations on minority members. Yet the most-discussed issue is even more complex, says Anekia. It’s about “not being seen for what makes you different.” She explains further:

“When people say, ‘I don’t see your color or your hair texture—we’re all alike,’ it’s like they’re saying they don’t see me as an individual. But I want them to see what I can bring to the table that’s unique.”

Anekia has used the DSOC platform as a springboard for educational programming such as monthly online workshops and, last summer, a live conference attended by studio owners from across the country where attendees discussed groundbreaking topics such as “What does it look like to embrace the traditional European standard of excellence in dance, but also embrace the color and flavor we bring to it?”

“It’s been an amazing process to see studio owners happy to be themselves, learning and growing,” she says. “They have to overcome so many hurdles, but they are doing it from a place of pride and acceptance.” With this message at heart, DSOC continues to support its members and expand its offerings, bringing diverse thoughts and opinions to the spotlight for all to see.

For the Marions of Move Dance and Fitness, self-understanding was the key to a workable home/business life.

Everything was a struggle. Julien and Mallorie Marion had multiple kids, multiple jobs, a slow-growing dance studio, and limited funds. Then one day Mallorie had an epiphany: none of this is working because we don’t really know who we are or what we need.

The Marions set out on a journey of self-discovery, taking personality tests, reading productivity books, trading thoughts on what made each other tick. Everything was on the table, from Julien’s reluctance to talk about his feelings to Mallorie’s tendency to procrastinate.

They came up with a division of labor and organizational system that recognizes their disparate personalities and utilizes their individual strengths. Julien (the workaholic) handles day-to-day operations; Mallorie (the visionary) focuses on long-term studio projects. He has more studio office hours; she has designated time for housework and tending to their five children.

Each day is scheduled down to the minute and includes not only 40-hour work weeks each but personal time, “spouse time,” chore time, and family bedtime.

With the confidence that comes from knowing yourself and what you want to achieve, the Marions have grown their studio, Move Dance and Fitness in Richmond, Texas, to a 7,500-square-foot facility housing 350-plus students, and their family to five: William 10, Adrianna, 8, Oliver, 6, Finley, 4, and Avery, 2.

More than dancers

Julien is also editor-in-chief of More Than Dancers, an online magazine and social community with more than 26,000 followers that provides esteem-building and age-appropriate content for teens and young dancers of all ethnicities, technical levels, and body types.

Scheduling for the Marions is far more than a to-do list. “It’s literally about the stuff that you don’t think has to be scheduled,” Mallorie says, like laundry or TV time. The schedule helps her avoid burnout cycles and protects Julien’s personal workout time. “Without a schedule, I’d get so overwhelmed—when did the house fall apart?—and just want to escape.”

Also vitally important: time for the two to just talk.

“He doesn’t express himself and I’m full of feelings, so we need to communicate if something is not working or if we are upset with each other,” Mallorie says. “That leads to a better understanding of each other’s wants and needs.”

Lest anyone (kids included!) get off track, Julien posts the daily schedule on the family room TV. To fully understand what’s going well and what might need more attention, Julien flowcharts everything that occurred during the week, from studio achievements to whether he expressed gratitude to others.

“Our life is so like this” Julien says, intertwining the fingers on both hands. “Kids, running a business, date night—you have to make sure you don’t drop the ball. I’m a visual person and graphs and pictures and colors show me I’m going in the right direction.”

The Marions never planned to own a studio.

The Marions never planned to own a studio. With two kids and a house, he had been working in college admissions and she was the director of a new studio when one New Year’s Eve, Mallorie’s bosses reduced her duties to just teaching.

For Mallorie, the creative and leadership challenges of her role had been a dream job. Hurt, she cut all ties and became a stay-at-home mom. The couple was struggling on Julien’s salary when Mallorie’s dad offered to “invest in a little studio.” They cleared space in their garage, advertised on craigslist.com, and opened in 2013 with an enrollment of four. Two were their own kids.

The studio eventually moved to a 5,000-square-foot space, but with Mallorie running the studio, teaching dance, and parenting while Julien worked, attended graduate school, and taught undergraduate courses, the business only inched forward. In 2015, they went all in: Julien quit his jobs and they sold their house. “We weren’t bringing in any money from the studio—literally nothing,” Mallorie says. They used $20,000 in equity from their house sale to pay one year of studio rent in advance. “You are going to make it because you don’t have an option,” Julien says.

That year was the turning point.

The studio—and their family—flourished, and today both nourish each other in wonderful ways.

Realizing the impracticality of creating a professional studio atmosphere with their own charges running about, the Marions doubled down on the theme of family. “The studio has a huge playroom ‘cause I needed a place to put my kids when I taught,” Mallorie says. The centerpiece of the comfortable foyer is a towering family tree of student photos. While lobby square footage “doesn’t pay bills,” Mallorie admits, the welcoming vibe (featuring dual adjoining lobbies for teens/tweens and younger students/siblings) attracts family-focused customers who can relate to the Marions.

“When you have three or four kids, you look a mess” and those parents with fewer or none “look at you weird,” Julien says. At Move Dance, no one blinks at a toddler sans shoes or a mom asleep on a lobby couch. “We want families to feel safe and be themselves.”

Free school vacation camps (three hours a day for three consecutive days) and summer camps provide a much-appreciated opportunity for studio parents to run errands, work, or just go home and take a nap. The camps are not advertised and aren’t intended as marketing initiatives. “We’ll drop our kids as well. If you are a member of this studio, we want to help you
support your family,” Julien says.

With their oldest now 10, Mallorie intends to homeschool through her children’s middle school years, which will provide flexibility to allow them to pursue activities besides dance, such as basketball or singing.

The work of learning about themselves continues.

For 2021, the couple is trying out personal accountability coaching. For an initial exercise they listed weekly tasks and activities, ranking them from favorite to least and determining time spent on each. It was eye-opening: Mallorie discovered that random studio work—writing a blog entry, creating a Canva graphic—added up to 38 hours over her scheduled 40. Now she’s making a plan for delegating such tasks to a studio staffer.

Easier said than done. Passionate owners believe they are the best person for any studio-related job—but that attitude can also hurt your business, Mallorie says. An owner struggling with overwork, anxiety, or neglected relationships won’t be her best for her business, her family, or her partner.

“If you are in burnout mode you can’t see the full landscape—you’re just constantly doing work,” Mallorie says. “Removing those hours will give us the time we need to do the work that brings the business up and allows us to have better relationships with each other and our kids.”