Celebrating an Important Teacher

(Eugene up front — points if you can find me)

This week I’m doing something a little different with my note.  I’d like to share with you one of my most important teachers.… Eugene Roscoe, my college dance professor.  

Eugene started his professional career as a member of the Alvin Ailey repertoire company.  He travelled with them, dancing Revelations and other classic Ailey works more times than he cared to remember. He told stories of going to auditions within the company having already decided with his roommate who wanted the part - they auditioned for the parts they wanted and held back on the others so that they could each dance what they preferred.  Later he taught pilates somewhere in the Washington DC area.  He drove south into Virginia to teach undergraduate dance a few times a week.

Eugene was an incredible teacher.  He taught the Horton technique he’d learned in the Ailey company.  It was precise and elegant, and it made us really strong.  At the end of class he’d pull out some little combination he’d come up with and we’d get to put all of that strength, precision and passion into wildly fun and enlivening dances.  We’d leave sweaty and satisfied.  Deeply content in our bodies.   

And that was a gift for an undergraduate woman - to be deeply content in her body.

I could tell you more about his style or the stories he told, instead I’ll share three things I learned by being his student: 

Bring Out Your Power

In an early rehearsal when Eugene was choreographing a new dance on us he held out his arm for me to grab.  He wanted me to swing around almost to the floor using his arm to keep myself from falling.  I tried… and I couldn’t do it.  He looked at me and said in his quiet voice: “You’re so timid”    Nothing more.  It wasn’t said with judgement and he didn’t give me a pep talk.  We just tried again.  Eventually I got it.

Maybe that example sounds harsh.  These days everyone seems to want a big pep talk. But it was all I needed.   That moment became an invitation to go for it!  I started dancing more from my inner power.  I started letting go and I woke up the inner athlete that I’d never tapped into before.  By the time I was a senior I was a much stronger and more powerful dancer.

No need to be timid - Bring out your Power!

Quiet Confidence is a Thing

Eugene was super chill.  My image is of him sitting crosslegged in a chair in the studio just waiting and watching.  He didn’t try to win us over. He wasn’t out trolling for popularity. He didn’t have the biggest voice in the room.  But he was there and he was present with us.  In fact, he was more than present, he was commanding.  He deeply embodied his expertise and didn’t have anything to prove about it. He exemplified authenticity which I think of as: nothing to hide and nothing to prove.  He embodied confidence in himself, his teaching, his command of the technique.  And all of that earned our respect, without question.  

Own your Quiet Confidence

Laughter Builds Connection

Lest you think that our studio time was all work and no play, I’ll tell you about the other side of Eugene.  He was quietly confident and then sometimes a little playful humor would peek out.  Like, the first time I took class with him.  He had us balancing on our sitting bones, legs and arms outstretched, pumping our arms up and down to the count of ten.  We got to about 40 when he said “These are called Hundreds”.  

It was like that with Eugene.  You’d be dancing a beautiful and difficult series and he’d crack a little joke. While my other professors were busy being academic and professional, Eugene would tease and laugh with us.  That little bit of humor helped us make a connection with the real, warm, human who was underneath all the command.  I know I didn’t know the realities of his life, but at least there was a feeling of connection that was missing with other professors.

Laughter builds Connection

Eugene’s been on my mind lately because it’s Black History Month.  Growing up in Virginia I’d had a few black teachers.  Eugene was the first Black man that I had a real relationship with.  Sadly, our relationship was too short.  Eugene passed away in the summer between my sophomore and junior years, so I only had two years to learn with him.    

When I think of myself in the studio as a yoga teacher now, I can thank Eugene for showing me some ways to be.  By example, he demonstrated the quiet confidence that I try to embody.  The drive in my practice certainly awakened under his care.  Even the little jokes that I occasionally crack in class are reminiscent of his humor.

So, this month, and really in all the classes I teach I celebrate Eugene.  I celebrate his life and I celebrate his teaching.  I bring these quick stories to you so that you know where I’m drawing from, and what an impact a single man can have.   His teaching is part of my lineage.  When you learn with me you learn from Eugene.  It is my wish that we all find ways to be confident, to bring more laughter, and to bring out our power in our practices and our lives.