Cancellation policies: making them suck less for students and teachers

I love posting about training and healthy eating and feminism and pedagogy and controversial issues. But in life, as in pole, as in blogging, we sometimes need to face some less fun stuff. I have been wanting to address cancellations for awhile, but I wanted to make sure it wasn't on the heels of any incidence of cancellation, since I didn't want any one person to think it was about them. Since I moved, I haven't started back up teaching yet, so I haven't had any cancellations to deal with, so no one can take it personally. Because this isn't about one person. It's about everyone who has ever cancelled on a teacher, both correctly and incorrectly.

I've been either teaching or taking private lessons in one thing or another nonstop since I was 14. My background is as a classical musician, which means at least one hour or private instruction a week (which I haven't taken in years, stupid economy, which is why I'm no longer performing at the level I once was). I've had private lessons in aerial acrobatics, and have also taught voice and ESL in addition to silks and pole.

In every industry I've taught or taken private lessons, the cancellation policy is exactly the same. A cancellation more than 24 hours in advance is either either cancellable or reschedulable at no cost. A cancellation less than 24 hours in advance, for any reason, your payment is due in full.

Classes usually have some sort of similar cancellation policy (although make-ups are often allowed on a limited basis), but as classes are usually paid for while booking, there is not the uncomfortable situation of a person being asked to give you money that they have for something that they did not get even though it was TOTALLY DEFINITELY NOT THEIR FAULT. Private lessons booked through a studio, college, or other institution usually have some level of administration to do the kneecap-busting for you. But when it comes down to the financial exchange (or lack thereof) between student and teacher, it's awkward.

I've been on both sides of this. I am notoriously healthy so I never cancel, but there was one time, one of those insanely busy, juggling-everything times of my life, where I misremembered the time of my voice lesson and showed up an hour late--as it was ending. I was in a tight place financially, and my lessons were the only large expenditure I allowed myself, because it was my career and it was necessary.

When I realized what had happened, I cried.  It was hard for me to part with the money in the first place, even when I was getting a hit-or-miss lesson for it. To give $65 away for almost no reason was--well, if you've ever been broke, you understand--heartbreaking.

So I understand how it is from the student's perspective. Now. Down to business.

If you cancel a lesson FOR ANY REASON, for (more or less) ANY TEACHER in ANY INDUSTRY, pay your teacher the money. Willingly, cheerfully, and (as long as the cancellation policy has been made clear) without having to be asked. Do not be a whiner, a moper, a bitch, or a victim.

Here are the reasons:

• The space. Most of us pay for studio space. We don't get to cancel for free. Neither do you. (This is the most obvious reason, but if your teacher teaches from home, that's no excuse.)
• Our schedules. Most of us are not sitting around watching TV all day. We have other students and other activities. You have reserved your time and we have spent the rest of the days or weeks up 'til then having to arrange our schedule around you. That often means saying no to other students or business.
• Prep time. Most students would be surprised at how much time we spend preparing for their lessons. We need to figure out moves that are appropriate for your level, brush up on them, and sometimes even try out new moves that you've requested to see if we can master them and develop a pedagogy by the time your lesson comes. Directly before the lesson, if there's no one before you, we have to get dressed and warm up, and either commute to the location or clean our apartment.
• Our financial stability. We're artists, not wall street tycoons. We're possibly broke and counting on the money you were supposed to pay us to get through the month.
• Your discipline. Remember college? When there's no consequence for people not showing up to class, they don't show up. Sure, they have good intentions to begin with, but life intervenes as always, and coming to class is inconvenient. Guess what? It's always going to be inconvenient in some way. That's why you make a commitment.

I actually know teachers who request payment in advance (my high school voice teacher had us pay a month at once, with no cancellations possible whatsoever), but most of us try to make things easy for the student, which means you pay when you get there.

Look, this isn't fun for anyone. I probably feel more angst over possibly offending you than you do over losing the money. But if we choose to use this honor system, so we need to stay worthy of it. So here are my do's and don'ts, for both students and teachers.

Students:

• Make sure you're clear on the cancellation policy before your first lesson. I know you don't think you're going to cancel, but anything can happen.
• Don't be a no-show just because it costs the same as cancelling hours before. That's disrespectful to us. Plus, we get worried about you.
• We're sorry you had an emergency/thing that wasn't your fault, and that's cool if you want to tell us about it, but shit happens and you do still owe us. Do not think (or imply that you think) that you're off the hook, no matter what happened.
• When you call to cancel your lesson, do us an enormous favor and say right away, "I totally know that I still have to pay you, I am mailing the check/bringing double to my next lesson which I want to schedule right now." I feel so relieved when I don't have to bring it up.
• If you are sharing a lesson, figure out the contingency plan in advance. If one person cancels or no-shows, who's responsible for the money? You don't want awkwardness with your classmate any more than we want it with you.
• And my pet peeve, because I always fall for it: You don't get to "reschedule." You get to optionally schedule a new lesson, which you will need to pay for in addition to this one. I can't tell you how much money I've lost because I felt bad and agreed to let someone "reschedule" a lesson even though they didn't know yet when they wanted to reschedule for. That lesson has actually happened 0% of the time.

Teachers:

• Actively draw attention to your cancellation policy for new students. Don't just put it in the studio rules or waiver. Write it in red and draw circles and stars and arrows around it. Mention it to the student out loud in words that you speak with your mouth. People don't read the documentation carefully.
• While the standard policy seems like common sense to most of us, people who aren't acclimated to the student-teacher relationship might be surprised. Don't assume they "get it."
• Getting deposits from students can be tricky (like if they don't come on a regular basis), but if you don't mind PayPal taking a cut, it might be worth having them pay in advance.
• Set your policy and stick to it. If you waffle, it makes the rest of us look bad.
• I know at least one teacher with a "first cancellation is free" policy. This is good for not making you look like an asshole, and bad for making students understand that the policy is for real, so it's your call. It's easier to pull off when you have regular students on a regular schedule than if you have sporadic drop-ins. The "first time" for someone who comes twice a week is a much lower percentage than the "first time" for someone who comes three times ever.
• I know your students are your friends, which makes it awkward to demand money from them when they don't think it's fair. But being a bitch about the money is easier than being a bigger bitch and keeping them at arm's length. (This works well in some industries, but pole and circus are too intimate, and we tend to be in the same age range.)
• You should know how to write invoices. It might seem passive-aggressive to send an invoice instead of asking for the money to their faces, but it's also more professional and legally recognizable. Your call on if you go that route, but either way, all teachers should have a template for invoices at the ready. Sometimes you need them when you teach workshops.
• If you can't deal with the dirty money, you need a middle man (like a studio). Yeah, then they take their cut. To many sensitive artistic souls, it's worth it. That's why we have middle men.

A few final points for everyone:

• "The teacher doesn't have to pay me if they cancel! That's not fair!" It's not, on paper. But in reality, teachers almost never cancel. I mean, they are relying on you for their livelihood! That said, some teachers do offer something in return to placate everyone's sense of justice. A free lesson, or a discount, or whatever. I don't think I've ever actually cancelled, so I don't know what I do.
• Think twice before sloughing through your lesson when you are sick. Check with your teacher/student to see if they're ok with that. A germophobic teacher might even be willing to give you a free reschedule if you'll just keep your diseases away from her.
• If you work for a studio that does not follow a 24-hour cancellation policy for you as a teacher--as in, they'll cancel your class or let a student cancel a lesson right before and don't pay you--please don't work for that studio. There are a million ways in which working conditions can be less than ideal, but this is an industry standard (across all private teaching industries, not just circus and pole) and it should be a dealbreaker. We'll probably never be unionized, so holding our ground on something this basic is as close as we're gonna get.
• If it's MORE than 24 hours in advance, and you're starting to think you might not be feeling well or your grandma's taken a turn for the worse, and you're not sure whether or not to cancel, talk to us. I can't speak for others, but schedule permitting I'm sometimes cool with letting a person quasi-cancel. Sort of a "more than 24 hours cancellation but if works out for both of us I'll do a drop-in" kind of thing.
• Even though I'm touting this as the industry standard, it shouldn't be assumed. If your teacher has not given you any cancellation policy, you owe them nothing. You could still pay them just to be a good person, but you're not required to.

I bring this up partially because I'm not always the best at it. I theoretically have a strict policy, but I don't always have the balls to follow through, and am too worried about people being mad at me. So maybe putting this out there with my name on it will force me to stick to my guns. I don't want to be a heartless monster, but I don't want to be a hypocrite either!

Again, I'm not implicating any one person here, because I've been teaching for years, so naturally I've had many cancellations and no-shows over time. But I DO appreciate everyone who's been cool about it. Interestingly? The people who are quickest to say "I know I still have to pay you and I will" are always other teachers.

Image from Travel Insurance Review

Quality vs. Quantity: Are you collecting tricks?

In my spare time, I have a day job as a writer in IT. In IT, you basically have developers and non-developers. And the two camps love to complain about each other. One of our favorite gripes is that developers never polish anything. They get really excited to invent a cool new app, but once they've got it made, they move onto the next cool project. Debugging, usability, documentation--this is no fun. Hence all the buggy software out there.

I see many--nay, most--students approaching pole and aerial the same way. They want tricks. New tricks, fancy tricks, tricky tricks. They obsess over learning something new. They practice it (often over-training it), pay teachers large sums for lessons and workshops, pore over videos and tutorials. Then one day the finally get it, and they have their friends take a picture of it, and that's it. Maybe they add it into their regular repertoire and maybe they forget about it. But either way, they mentally check it off a list and call it done. It's kinda like going on one of those Contiki tours in college, where you see like every city in Europe for like one night each. Been there done that bought the tshirt!

Have you bought the tshirt for all the tricks you've learned?

Don't feel like debugging your dance?

Polishing is not really fun. There's no rush, no happy dance. There's no bragging rights, and, in a community where we mentally rank each other by what tricks you can and can't do (admit it), there's no cred. No bullet point on the mental resume.

And then one day you see a video of yourself and you cringe. Or you enter a competition and can't understand why your scores were so bad. Or you audition for a show or a circus troupe and pull out all the stops and bust your ass and are flabbergasted when you don't make it past the first round of cuts.

Sometimes polishing means discipline. It means inverting without hooking your foot even when you're tired and PMSing. Other times it means inspiration. It means turning the lights down and putting on the perfect music (NOT your usual workout playlist), and practicing finding that place where you feel amazing and it shows. All the time, it means not mistaking a checklist for art.

Photo from i can has Cheezburger, of course.

Are you training your competition?

 Over the weekend I taught an advanced pole tricks workshop. Since I'm mostly self-taught (not attached to any studio) and don't follow competitions and YouTube trends very closely, I end up coming up with some of my tricks and sequences on my own. (Someone else may come up with the same thing, of course. I don't claim bragging rights on any points of ownership or inventorship.) So I end up teaching a lot of what are de facto "signature moves."

So now anyone who took my workshop (or my classes, privates, or other workshops I've done), or anybody they subsequently teach, can run out and use my moves in a competition.

Great! Do it! That's what I'm here for.

The problem comes when your students end up working or competing in the same circuits you do.

Back in the good old olden days (not that long ago), the best teachers were basically retired from illustrious performing or competing careers. They would earn their living in their art for as long as they could, and then they would settle down and pass their wisdom on to the next generation of stars.

We tend to have a nostalgic view of this career path. "Isn't it great that people/the government was so supportive of the arts that these artists could make a living just performing?" "Isn't it great that there was so much employment that they didn't even have time to teach, they were so in demand as artists?"

The landscape has changed, for sure, but I think we are idealizing things. It has NEVER been easy to be an artist. Ask Mozart. There are other aspects to this arrangement that we forget to consider.

Artists also waited until they were retired to teach because they didn't want to share their secrets. They didn't want others in the field using their knowledge to depose them. They didn't want to create competition for themselves. After all, pretty young Sally Soprano has everything you don't: youth, beauty, energy, potential-and she'll work cheaper. Why risk her replacing you?

Well, the old system doesn't always suit the modern world. First of all, for a number of reasons, artists do usually need a day job, and often that means teaching. Secondly, the world changes so quickly these days that older, retired artists might have outdated information. And in some cases, the field is so young, or has so recently expanded, that we don't have a trove of seasoned pros to learn from. I mean, if you're learning clarinet, there are centuries of master clarinetists who have paved the way for you. If you're learning lyra? Circus arts aren't new, but just how many people do you think there were doing lyra 20 or 30 years ago, compared to today? Somebody has to teach all these budding aerialists, and that usually means working or aspiring professionals.

All this means that many of us are training our own competition, without having thought through the ramifications.

How do you deal with this bundle of logistics and awkwardness? Well, for some people like me, it's not a big issue. I don't really compete or perform professionally. I mean, if I want to enter a contest or a showcase, I will. But I'm not trying to break into the competition circuit, or earn my pro card. So if someone shows up with the same trick as me, it doesn't affect my life a whole lot.

Other people chose to keep their signature tricks, or at least their new tricks, to themselves. But new tricks are exactly what students most want to learn from us. So we're kind of hurting our business. Plus, we can really only keep so many moves polished & practiced at a time, so with advanced students who already know the basics (or think they do), we often end up teaching them whatever we've been polishing on our own time.

Some less evolved teachers might prevent their students from achieving their potential. They might discourage them from entering competitions, or imply that they're not good enough. Obviously you shouldn't study with someone like this. (It's important to be objective, though. If a trusted coach tells you you're not ready, you should listen, or at least get a second opinion.)

Teaching doesn't only create quality of competition. It creates quantity. You'll often hear old-timers complaining about newcomers on the market who don't have enough knowledge/experience and are ruining things for those who are already established. Here's a thoughtful piece by aerialist Laura Witwer (who I had I think one silks class with years ago at STREB, where she told me that glitter is what separates us from the animals, which is good advice) complaining about new aerialists drastically undercutting the pros and bringing fees down. This is a legitimate issue, but I also think you can't make a large part of your living training hordes of new aerialists, and then turn around and complain that there are hordes of new aerialists on the market and prices are dropping. If you are teaching your skills to many people, then it's your own fault that your skill set is no longer rare.

If you want to teach while you are still active as a performer, that's fine-that's actually what most of us do. But you should be aware of this dilemma going into the situation, so you can think ahead about how you want to handle it when it comes up. And if you're an outstanding teacher, it will come up. The best want to train with the best.

Photo from SaraWalpertFoster.com

Why we can't have a rational discussion about pole brands

One of the most important topics we can talk about is the difference between pole makes and manufacturers. Why? Because it matters and it's actionable. We can talk about whether we like stripper-style pole or Olympic-style pole, but it's not really an actionable debate on an individual level. You already have your mind made up, I already have my mind made up, and while we like expressing our opinions, and the open-minded among us like seeing other points of view, it's not going to change what most of us do on a day-to-day basis. Knowing why Dancer A likes booty popping isn't going to make Dancer B start rump shaking too.

What pole should I buy? Totally actionable. What pole should I buy? Brand Z! OK! Done! A transaction has taken place.

Plus, people really want to know this stuff. Most people who get into pole are going to want to buy one, and they're going to want to know what to buy. Few people, especially beginners, have the chance to try out different makes firsthand and decide for themselves. So they need advice.

The problem is that someone asks the room what brand they should get, and a bloodbath breaks out. Everyone is convinced that their pole is the best, that the opposing brand has horrible customer service, that Brand Q is unsafe, that Brand Y has a bad reputation.

Part of the problem is that our industry is so small that one complaint gets echoed around the community. If one vocal person has a bad experience with a pole, a significant portion of the industry will hear about it.

But the issue is psychological.

Let me pose a question to you. Why are people rabid and pushy about their preference for a Mac or a PC, but mild and reasonable about their preference for Pepsi vs. Coke?

I don't mean that people who prefer Coke over Pepsi are making a logical choice--the Pepsi challenge has proven that people might prefer the taste of one product but fall for the marketing of the other. And I don't mean they're flexible about their choice. Anyone who's ever worked in food service knows the look of disgust when a customer is told their beverage of choice isn't sold there. But there is no debating, evangelizing, or justification like there is with the computer.

When somebody (especially somebody passionate about computers) is asked their preference for computers, it's a different story. They will pretty much get up on a soapbox, and a discussion of vices and virtues between opposing parties can get heated.

Besides the fact that soda is simpler and there is less to debate (unless you bring up terminology--I lived in the Midwest for 7 years of my childhood and REFUSED to say "pop" because I was from the East coast), the difference is that the computer is a major investment. One of the biggest, after your house and your car, you'll ever make. Because not only do you have to buy the computer itself, but the software and hardware. You have to limit yourself to the choices that are available on your platform (or, *ugh*, run a virtual machine). And if you ever want to change teams? Best not to think about that. Your head might explode.

You know, we polers don't really argue about grip aids. They are important! They are complicated! You have to try them in person to know how it works! They all have advantages and disadvantages! But we don't fight. We just say "I like Mighty Grip." Or, "I like Dry Hands for tack but Tite Grip for sweat."

You see where I'm going with this. A pole is a major investment for most of us. Depending on what you get, you're going to be dropping like $500. And even if we had the money, most of us don't have room for two. You pick your pole, you get to know it intimately, you get used to it. You go to a studio that has a different kind, you get confused. How do I set this to spin??

What happens in this situation is that the purchaser can't afford to be wrong. You've basically bet everything on red. That's what turns discussions about major purchases into religious/political debates. I mean, people don't change religions often. Because it's like, not to dramatize, but "Everything I've ever known is a lie!" Obviously the stakes in a pole aren't as high--it's $500, not 20/30/50+ years of life invested. But you can see the same chemistry working itself out on our minds.

And yes, we do tend to evangelize, because we all want to be on the "right" side. When I think about it, I have to admit I did feel a little defensive of my Platinum Stages pole when X-Pole became the "cool" kid in town. It didn't bother me, because I knew it was a good piece of equipment, but I didn't want my reputation to suffer. I was afraid my students would think I wasn't "in the know" because I didn't have the "right" pole.

But I consider myself a relatively unbiased person, and I can say with all honesty that I have owned and used both Platinum Stages and X-Pole, both at home and in studio/performance settings, and I can legitimately say that I've had good and bad experiences with both. I think everyone who's used both can say that. (I don't mean to make this a two-horse race. I've just had minimal experience with other brands. I've used Li'l Mynx and Markstaar--again, both good and bad aspects.) I originally bought Platinum Stages, and advised my students to do so, because it was the only brass option (this was years ago), but now that that's not the case, it's an open playing field as far as I'm concerned.

Anyways, thought I would point this out, because it's a legitimate psychological phenomenon that we should be aware of when we have this discussion. If anyone else has caught themselves being biased towards their pole of choice, I'd love to hear about it!

Incidentally, I use a Mac at home (because I'm cool) and a PC at work (because it works). I can legitimately say I see advantages and disadvantages to both of these, too.
Photo from techcrunch.com

"Free" "flavors": making your diet tasty

For those who enter diets or instate lifestyle changes, the restrictions we face can be depressing. We think about all our favorite foods we have to give up, and resign ourselves to either boring meals or having to become full-time personal chefs to ourselves. Even harmless-seeming condiments like our favorite salad dressing and sweetener in our coffee can become off-limits.

I know a lot of people who decide to go on a diet and just microwave a bowl of chicken and broccoli for every meal until they fall off the wagon. And there's something to be said for the effectiveness of repeating the same meals over and over. But you don't have to live off of bland, dry food.

You might have said good-bye to creaminess, sweetness, coconutty deliciousness and peanut-buttery goodness. Probably you are cutting out greasy or cheese-drenched comfort food, or, like my parents (and me to a less strict extent), oils altogether (see The Esselstyn diet and my family). But there are still plenty of "flavors" you can enjoy that won't put you off your diet.

Of course, every diet is different, and your restrictions will vary. But over the years of many methods of eating, these are some flavors (spices, condiments, whatever) that seem to be relatively "safe" for most diets.

I'm not going to go down the spice rack and list every bottle, but here are the more over-arching tastes that you can achieve without a lot of caloric sacrifice.

Spicy
If you like spicy food, you're in luck. A little bit of hot sauce or jalapeno can add an enormous amount of flavor for almost no calories. And the best thing is the options for where you get your heat are boundless. Cayenne, Tabasco, sweet chili paste, sriracha, or even regular black pepper of salt-and-pepper fame all have different tastes and uses. Plus, there are even studies that show spicy food might boost your metabolism. If you don't like spicy food, you might try sneaking in just a tiny bit of heat. It's something you have to get used to, but once you do, it's a slippery slope!
Drawbacks: Could be bad for people with heartburn/reflux problems.

Soy
Soy sauce adds an Asian mood to anything on your plate. Unfortunately it has a lot of sodium, which is a no-no for many dieters. But there are several options that give you the taste with a lighter salt load. Low-sodium soy sauce is good, as is low-sodium tamari. You could also try an alternative such as Bragg's Liquid Aminos. Depending on sugar, teryaki might be OK, too. Mmmm.
Drawbacks: Most of us are supposed to cut back on sodium, and even low-sodium versions are probably more salt than we should be having. I would not touch it a few days before a photo shoot or other event where you want to look thin. Salt is bloating.

Tomato
You love pizza and pasta? Me too. But it's probably not just the carb-load and fatty cheese you crave. You're free to have as much tomato as you want. That means pizza sauce and pasta sauce are in, as well as ketchup and (depending on sugar) barbeque sauce. You don't need a high-calorie bed to pour them on. I love veggies and beans in bbq sauce, and tomato sauce on my vegan meatballs!
Drawbacks: Like spices, should be OK for almost everyone unless you have a low tolerance for acidic foods.

Sour
Oil and vinegar might have too much fat, but vinegar by itself can do more than enough! Throwing a little vinegar on your stir-fry or in your sauce can give you that sour taste that makes any vegetable interesting. Sauerkraut is a great topping or side for a veggie brat, or even on a salad if you don't have any "safe" dressings handy.
Drawbacks: I seem to remember Fit for Life having a "vinegar is a cleaning product, not a food" policy. So some "internal hygiene" diets might say no. For most of us it should be fine.

Lemon and lime
Here's a recipe for making guacamole out of edamame instead of (high-fat) avocados. Add some lemon or lime juice and cilantro and it's almost like the real thing. I like fresh-squeezed lime juice on my corn on the cob instead of butter. Even if you are on a low-sugar diet where fruit is a no-no, lemons and limes don't really have the sugar that other fruits have.
Drawbacks: Why are all the good lemon squeezer devices like $15? Rip off!

Coffee
If coffee was caloric, no one in this country would ever diet. It's a way of life for Americans. As an add-on flavor, it tends to be more of a dessert thing, and most diets aren't very dessert-friendly. But if you find a way to slip it in, whether it's in a smoothie or in a low-sugar muffin, it's a healthier option than chocolate or peanut butter.
Drawbacks: Lots of people go off caffeine for health reasons, weight-focused or not.

Cinnamon
Cinnamon is sort of the "spicy" option of dessert foods, in that it adds a zing and may increase metabolism. It can be a great substitute for sweeter in pastries or coffee. There are a lot of sweetener options out there that may or may not be healthy, depending on who you ask and what diet you're on, but for most of us it's better if we can cut back on them altogether. There's still an adjustment as you slowly lose your sweet tooth, but if you replace your sugar shaker with a cinnamon shaker you'll be much better off.
Drawbacks: Can't think of any.

So that's a very general survey, but those are the major "flavors" I've found that make a huge difference without detriment to my health or diet. The fun part comes when you combine them. Hot and sour soup! Lime salsa! Cinnamon latte!

Bon appetite, and feel free to add your own favorite flavors below!

Photo from take the day off

Sexy vs. sporty pole: understanding each other

OK, I'm finally going to tackle the sexy pole vs. fitness pole thing. It's pretty much the most controversial topic in our community, and I don't shy away from hot topics. I've just been taking the time to figure out the best approach to adding to the conversation in a way that will benefit everyone.

First off, there's a point we need to clarify that tends to get overlooked. We are not arguing whether pole should be sexy or athletic. Neither side is trying to do away with the other side. I don't know any reasonable person who thinks you shouldn't be able to dance exotically if you want to, or should have to if you don't want to. (If you do think that: Mind your own business about how people want to dance.) The argument is not which of these two styles should exist, but about how they should coexist.

And the problem from my perspective is that people are so adamant about their opinions that they are not really understanding each other. Fortunately, as an independent poler/instructor not attached to any studio, I've been exposed to a lot of different poling environments, and I feel I'm in a good position to see both sides of the story. And since I can see how passionate everyone is, I think it's a good idea to step back from the particulars of the pole community and turn our thoughts elsewhere.

It's the 80's. (Late 70's, whatever. I'm good at music, not history.) You're a disenfranchised youth. Everybody's running around in suits trying to screw each other out of money. Greed, hypocrisy, and a life that tastes like cardboard. You're in school, it's horrible, but real life is going to be worse. Dead end.

And then one day you and your friends are out smoking and being bored and you wind up at CBGBs and your life is changed. You have found the counter culture, you have found music, life, friends, actual fun, and a big fuck you to society. You don't have to be a prick in a suit, you can be a badass with spiky green hair. You don't have to have a white picket fence, you can have body piercings.

You become totally immersed in the punk scene and you've never felt so alive. You adopt the fashions, worship the bands, and let society know how you feel about it. You trade the emptiness of jumping through hoops for disinterested teachers for crazy nights of drinking and partying with your friends.

And you're going along finally feeling like yourself, when some moron shows up spewing all this stuff about how we have to get all the drinking and drugs and crazy clothes and hair out of the music venues. They wanna play "punk music" but they don't want any punks around. And you're like, "UH, DUDE. YOU'RE IN THE WRONG FUCKING PLACE. THIS IS WHAT PUNK IS."

OK, chance of scene. It's the 80's. You're a young musician. Played guitar your whole life. Obsessed with Hendrix, the Beatles, everyone. Every paycheck goes straight to the music store for another stack of records (or tapes, we never did decide what year it is). You've been gigging around a bit and jamming with your friends, but nothing you would call a real band.

And then one day you hear the Ramones and your life is changed. You have found your musical calling. Punk puts every other kind of music in its place. It is strong, it is loud, it is in your face, but it has a disingenuous simplicity. No frills, no trills, just real music. And it sounds awesome.

You instantly get your friends on board and start a band. You start playing out at CBGBs and you are awesome so you amass a following very quickly, enough to make you local celebrities. You make some demo tapes and fans are going wild for them. You're finally right where you want to be.

Before you know it, a major label gets ahold of your tapes and is interested in signing you. Your career would be made. A rock star.

But the label wants to see you live, and there's just no way. You appreciate your fans exuberance, but those venues are a mess. People are dressed to intimidate. Underage kids are drinking and fighting. A suit wouldn't last thirty seconds in there.

Not to mention, the whole fans behaving like jerks thing is kind of getting to you. You're all in support of tossing back a few beers, and leather jackets do look pretty awesome, and sure guys should be able to pierce their ears if they want to. But the "image" of punk is sort of drowning out the music, and you're sick of fights breaking out at every show. Your little sister really wants to come see your band play, but you're afraid something could happen to her.

And you're like "DUDES SERIOUSLY YOU DO NOT HAVE TO DRESS LIKE FREAKS TO LIKE MY MUSIC AND CAN YOU PLEASE STOP STABBING PEOPLE IN THE FACE WHILE I'M PLAYING K THX."

So here we have two people drawn to the same scene for very different reasons. Two people who value different aspects of it, and find their goals at odds. One thinks that punk is about what you wear, how you party, and your attitude towards society. The other thinks it's about three chords and the truth, and the rest is fluff that is currently driving people away. Unfortunately, the scene is so small that musician guy and spiky hair guy don't have a lot of room to break off from each other, They don't really have anywhere else to go.

Stalemate. End scene.

I think you get the point. And I'm not really proposing a solution, just wanted to show how both sides can make sense if you look at them from a different perspective. Can you separate the music from the message? Well, I think Paul Ryan being a fan of Rage Against the Machine answers that question.

Some people want to pole to express their sensuality, and taking that away would be missing the point for them. Others want a cleaner image so that they can share pole with their children and get it into the Olympics. And we can have different naming conventions (pole dance, pole fitness, aerial pole, pole art, exotic pole dance, acrobatic pole), but for the most part we are too small of a community to split ourselves up in a way that will affect how the public views us. I mean, I used to do taekwondo. Did you know there are two versions of taekwondo, traditional and WTF? If you're not already involved in martial arts, you probably didn't know that. If you formed a mental image of someone doing taekwondo, you wouldn't have asked yourself first which branch it was. This is as opposed to say, being a politician, and being a Republican or Democrat. So many more people know basic politics than basic taekwondo that they would know to ask that question if you introduced yourself as a politician. But unlike with taekwondo practitioners, the image matters more for polers, because due to the sexual aspects, it affects when and where it is appropriate to perform it, or even talk about it.

There is one more point I want to make about naming conventions, though. OK, so let's say athletic people call what they do "pole fitness," and sensual polers should then use "pole dance" or "exotic dance." But they don't want to do that because they want to imply that what they are doing is different from stripping--not that they think there's anything wrong with stripping, but they don't necessarily want people to think that's what they do. Guess what? That's exactly how many athletic polers feel about exotic pole. They don't think there's anything wrong with dancing sexy, but they don't want people to think that's what they do.

Anyways, I know it's kind of a dick move to point out a problem and not propose a solution. But I felt that the problem was that people didn't understand the problem. So I hope I helped a little bit with that. And before anyone flames me, let me point out that I'm not an interested party. I'm not attached to sexy pole, I'm not trying to get it in the Olympics; as always I'm happy just doing my own thing and working with anyone who wants to work with me, whatever their persuasion. So I don't have a horse in this race (until I come up with a solution and write a blog about that). Just want to see everyone getting along!

Image from hustlebunny.com

Should I improvise or choreograph my performance?

Most pole dancers don't get a lot of performance opportunities. Unless we are highly involved in the competition circuit or working as exotic dancers (which is pretty much all improvisation so doesn't factor into this blog post), the vast majority of what we do is relegated to the studio, our homes, and maybe our YouTube accounts.

But every once in awhile, those of us who are pretty serious about our pole hobbies will have the opportunity to perform in public. It could be a local competition, a showcase, a studio performance, or some sort of local event that you've been asked to perform at (hopefully for money--this isn't a cheap hobby!).

For most polers, the first question they ask themselves will be, "What will I WEAR?!?!" The second, though, will be, "Do I just get up there and dance, or do I have to write a routine?"

The truth is that either way is totally fine. People do it both ways. So you just have to decide what's better for you. Obviously I can't do that for you, but what might help is going over what it's like to do each, and what the pros and cons are.

Improvisation
Improvisation should play a huge part in your studio or home training, so you should be pretty comfortable transferring that practice to a public space.

Training

Since you are not running a routine over and over, your training will not change much from your day-to-day routine. You'll probably just keep practicing the moves you were working on anyways, and doing some freestyling. Even if you don't have a routine in mind, though, it's a good idea to have a mental list of what moves you think you will and won't use. We all have our "default moves" that we pretty much throw into everything, but that probably won't be enough to fill up a whole song. What else do you have that would be a good fit? More importantly, what do you NOT want to do? Are you sure that combo you've been working on is ready for an uncontrolled environment, where you or the pole might be too hot or too cold or too slippery and you won't be able to do anything about it?

And please please video yourself, even just once. Routine or no, you're bound to catch something you're doing that needs to be cleaned up, whether you tend to flex your feet when you fonji (I know I do) or make a face when you drop your legs down & up in an iguana (I do that too).

Before the show

You'll mostly be reminding yourself to include the moves you want. You shouldn't be stressed out about too many things beyond general performance anxiety.

During the show

Hopefully, you will be totally into the music and the moment, connecting with the audience and feeling amazing. Here are some other thoughts that will probably run through your head, though:

"OK, what should I do next, um..."
"WTF this song is LONG!!!!"
"Crap, I think I did this move like three times already."
"Uhhh what else what else was I supposed to do..."
"Why aren't we done yet? WHY IS THIS SONG SO LONG?"

After the performance

You should feel awesome and elated. But you will probably be saying, "Gahh, I forgot to do like 10 things I meant to do!! Dammit!!" and maybe "I think I just did the same couple of things over and over."

That's the biggest problem with improvisation. You'll be relatively chill beforehand, but kicking yourself afterward for everything you didn't do. The good news is, you're the only one who knows that. The audience doesn't know you didn't do an Oona split, and even if you think it would have blown their minds, really they were probably just aweing at how beautiful and graceful and amazing you are. You can tell your fellow polers about all the awesome stuff you were GONNA do, but the general public really doesn't know the difference.

Other pros and cons

The best thing about improvisation is that you are totally adaptable to any situation. It doesn't matter how thick or high the poles are, or whether or not they are attached to the ceiling. No ceiling? Don't use the ceiling. No problem.

Routine

Writing and mastering a routine is quite a lot of work, but extremely rewarding.

Training

Depending on how much time you have to prepare, you need to start practicing way in advance.
Of course it's all relative to your time frame, but you should be doing complete run-throughs of your routine at least a couple weeks before go time. Because you're gonna find that what worked in your head, and what worked one chunk at a time, is usually impossible to actually pull off in context. Generally, especially if you are a more athletic-style dancer, you're gonna get completely winded after the first verse. Stamina is a topic for another day, but for now let's just say you either have to keep practicing 'til you get used to it, or re-choreograph so that you get more "rest" time. And there's no way of knowing in the beginning which one it's gonna be, ie, whether or not what you want to do is going to be possible for you or not.

You also don't want to overtrain. That's also a subject for a future column, but for now: if you're running your routine a lot, you're practicing the same moves over and over, on the same side, day after day. This can easily lead to overuse and imbalance. Be careful and make sure you have at least a little time dedicated to working your other side in there. Try running your routine, even in slow motion and without music, on your other side. It doesn't have to be good, but you have to try. (See also: Reasons to learn tricks on BOTH sides.)

Before the show

You're gonna be freaking out about everything. It matters a LOT what kind of equipment you'll be working on, and sometimes the people you're communicating with are not very specific. Yeah, so it's 8 feet, but if it's self-standing then you can't do your ceiling lay. Will there be enough floor space to do the kinds of floor work and dismounts you were planning? Plus, you have all these moves to worry about. If it's too slippery to do a monkey tail (or whatever the kids are calling it these days), and you have one planned, you're pretty much screwed. Once you have your routine set in stone, you're going to find that you are not willing to deviate from it. When you have planned down to the last hair flip, it seems inconceivable to change an entire move, which will affect timing, height, transitions, and maybe the entire sequence it's a part of.

During the show

If you've trained and practiced right, you should really slay here. You should have the moves so memorized and second nature that you can concentrate entirely on personality, showmanship, and just rocking it. That said, something will always go wrong. Hopefully it will be something small, but just know that there will be a little snag or glitch somewhere and no amount of preparation will prevent that. I once had a routine that I agonized over, including a really difficult, really fast spin sequence. In my performance, the pole got semi-stuck and wouldn't spin fast, so the entire effect was lost. Not my fault, nothing I could have done about it, and yeah I was pissed because it was a really super cool thing, and that whole verse pretty much just fell flat. But the audience didn't really remember that, they went ape for my performance overall.

After the show

You should be feeling good. If you were prepared, then you almost certainly did all your moves well, in the right order, and hopefully were able to add on a lot of stage presence. You'll still be mad about that one thing that didn't go right, but you will hopefully have put on a real show, and that's what the audience will respond to.

Other pros and cons

Because it matters so much what the setup is, your routine may not be reusable in its current form. That is, you planned on a static pole and a spinning pole twelve feet high and going all the way to the ceiling. Your next performance might be on a single nine-foot static stage pole. It won't transfer without some serious editing. So you're looking at doing a TON of work and maybe being able to use it once. You better at least get it on video! You should probably video your dress rehearsal, too, in case that comes out better.

Combination of the two

If you're not ready to commit to one plan or the other, you can always do something in the middle. One example is to freestyle, but to practice freestyling to your song so many times that you've got a pattern going of what you're going to do when, even if you're not committed to it. Another is to choreograph just parts of the songs. For example, you know you want to climb to the top of the pole during the guitar solo, and you know what you're going to do once you get up there. You almost might consider planning out just the beginning and the ending of the song, so you know you that no matter what else happens, you'll start and end strongly.

Which you pick depends a lot on personality type and performance style, so it's a really individual choice. Don't worry--as you perform more over time, you'll find what works best for you. Good luck and let us know how it went!

Image of Cleo the Hurricane from Pole Dance Italy