BEYOND THE HYPE: WHAT MAKES A MASTERCLASS A MASTERCLASS?

Famous names. Full classes. Big promises. But what are our young dancers actually learning?

Looking beyond the famous name, the social-media post and the promise of “more” — and asking what is actually happening educationally to the young dancers attending these masterclasses

In my first Beyond the Mirror blog, What the Mirror Taught Me, I explored the voice that can develop within us through years of looking into a studio mirror — a voice shaped not only by what we see, but by what we have been taught to see. The corrections, comparisons, expectations and words we hear can gradually become our own internal dialogue, sometimes remaining with us long after we have left the studio.

For this second blog, I want to stay with the subject of voices — but this time, look beyond the voice within and listen more closely to the voices surrounding our young dancers. The voices of teachers. The voices of parents. The voices of peers. And, increasingly, the voice of a dance culture shaped by visibility, social media and the pressure to be where everyone else is.

The voices we hear — and the voices around us

Sometimes the pressure comes from within the dancer. Sometimes it comes from the voices around them. And sometimes it becomes difficult to know where one ends and the other begins.

“I need to be there.”
“You have to go.”

“Everyone else is going.”
“Regardless of who else is going — you ARE going.”

“If I’m not there, I’m not seen.”
“I want you to be seen.”

“If I’m not seen, perhaps I’m missing opportunities.”
“Don’t miss those opportunities.”

The first voice may belong to the dancer. The second (in italics) may belong to a teacher, a parent, or another influential adult. Sometimes those voices come from a genuinely educational place. As teachers, we may encourage our students to attend workshops because we want them to experience different teachers, different environments, different ways of working and perhaps discover something that we cannot give them ourselves. That is part of a broad and healthy dance education. But I don't think we should automatically assume that every “You have to go” or “I want you to be seen” is motivated purely by what is educationally best for the dancer.

Sometimes being seen is exactly the point.

And then I think we need to ask an uncomfortable question:

The dancer attends. The photograph is taken. The teacher or choreographer is tagged. The school shares the post. The association with a recognised name becomes visible to everyone watching. Who was this opportunity actually for? Was it for the young dancer and their education? Or did the dancer also become a means of demonstrating the school’s connections, opportunities and status? There is an important difference between giving a dancer an opportunity and using a dancer’s opportunity as publicity.

 Of course, sharing achievements and experiences is not inherently wrong. Schools should be able to celebrate their students. But when being seen begins to influence which experiences we encourage young dancers to attend, perhaps we need to examine whose needs are really being served and how the outside voices are influencing not only the dancers but also their parents and other dance teachers.

But perhaps Beyond the Mirror is also about being willing to look beyond what something appears to represent.

Beyond the poster.
Beyond the famous name.
Beyond the number of followers.
Beyond the photograph afterwards.
Beyond the words “masterclass” and “exclusive.”

And asking a much simpler question:

What is the young dancer actually learning when going to masterclasses?

Perhaps before we can answer that question, we need to ask another: What actually is a masterclass? We use the word so readily in dance today that we rarely stop to question what it means. What does it mean for you?

• A guest teacher comes to a school — masterclass.

• A successful competition dancer teaches a class — masterclass.

• A well-known choreographer teaches a combination — masterclass.

• A programme promises higher jumps, more turns or greater flexibility — masterclass.

• Fifty, eighty, perhaps one hundred dancers gather in a room to learn from someone perceived to be “the best” — masterclass.

But does the person standing at the front of the room make it a masterclass because?

• Their success as a dancer make it a masterclass?

• Their reputation make it a masterclass?

• Their competition results as winners give them the right to provide masterclasses?

• Their social-media following?

• The price of the class?

 Or should the word masterclass tell us something about the teaching and learning that is taking place? Perhaps this is where we need to look beyond the modern marketing of the word and return, for a moment, to what a masterclass was traditionally understood to be.

What was a masterclass meant to be?

The traditional masterclass has its roots particularly in classical music. A renowned and highly accomplished “master” worked with advanced students, often individually and one at a time, while the other students watched, listened and learned from the detailed feedback, corrections and discussion taking place. The students were not simply there to copy what the master could do. They came with an already developed level of technical understanding and prepared work. The master's role was to use their depth of knowledge and experience to refine technique, interpretation and artistry. And those watching were not passive spectators. Observation itself was part of the learning. They learned by watching the master identify a problem, communicate a correction and work with the individual towards greater understanding. In other words, the idea was not:

“Come and see what the master can do.”

but

“Come and learn from how the master teaches.”

And perhaps that distinction deserves considerably more attention in dance today! Because if fifty, eighty or one hundred young dancers are simultaneously attempting difficult choreography, multiple turns, large jumps or extreme flexibility exercises — dancers of different ages, abilities, technical foundations and physical development — with little possibility of individual observation or correction, all mixed into one, I think we are entitled to ask:

Are we actually attending a masterclass or a workshop or an event?

Perhaps even an excellent and inspiring workshop or event—but has the “workshop/event” been given the word masterclass because the word itself carries prestige? There is absolutely nothing wrong with a workshop. Provocatively stated - Master Class = Master Marketing?

Words create expectations.

And “masterclass” has become a very powerful word.

“A learning experience delivered by someone perceived to be among the best in their field.”

And this is where I believe we need to start questioning the educational validity of what is being called a masterclass. The emphasis should not simply be on who is standing at the front of the room, but on the depth and quality of the teaching taking place. Because there is another question we perhaps don't ask often enough:

 Who actually decides who “the best” are?

•  The ability to understand and safely develop young, growing bodies?

• Is it the quality of the dancers someone has taught and developed over many years?

• Is it determined by professional expertise and qualifications?

• Years of teaching experience?

• Pedagogical knowledge?

 Or is it increasingly determined by something else?

• Competition success.

• Performance ability.

• Reputation.

• Visibility.

• Social-media following.

• The number of dancers wanting a photograph afterwards.

• Or perhaps simply because everybody else appears to believe that this is the person we should be training with.

We need to be careful not to confuse visibility with expertise, popularity with pedagogy, or exceptional performance ability with exceptional teaching ability. A young dancer may be extraordinary at what they do. A choreographer may be hugely successful. A performer may have thousands of followers and an impressive competition history. They may have an enormous amount to offer and may genuinely inspire the dancers in front of them.

But being perceived as a master of your craft does not automatically make you a master teacher.

Perhaps, then, we need to become a little less impressed simply by who is standing at the front of the room and a little more curious about what is happening educationally to the young dancers standing behind them. Before You Book the Next Masterclass… Perhaps the next time we hear “I need to be there” or find ourselves saying “You have to go,” we could stop for a moment and ask why.

If you are a dancer:

• Why do you want to be there? Is it because there is something you genuinely want to learn, or because everyone else seems to be going?

• Are you choosing the teacher because of what they can teach you — or because of who they are?

• Do you leave these classes with greater understanding of your body and your technique, or simply with more choreography and another photograph?

• And perhaps the most uncomfortable question: If nobody knew you had attended, would you still want to go?

 If you are a parent:

• What are you hoping your child will gain from this experience?

• Have you considered whether the content is appropriate for their age, physical development and current technical level?

• Are you paying for education, inspiration, an experience, an opportunity to be seen — or perhaps a little of all four?

• And if your child isn't attending the masterclasses that “everyone” seems to be attending, are you worried that they are being left behind? Who has made you feel that way?

 And if you are a teacher:

• Why are you recommending this particular masterclass to your students?

• What do you know about the teaching taking place, not simply the person delivering it?

• Would you be comfortable with the technical demands being attempted in your own studio without correction?

• Are you recommending the experience because it genuinely complements the training your dancer needs — or because you are worried about what might happen if your students are not there?

 Perhaps there is one question for all of us:

When did

“Who did you have a masterclass with?”

become more important than

“What did you learn?”

Masterclasses, workshops and opportunities to experience other teachers can and should have an important place in dance education. This is not an argument against them. It is an invitation to become more discerning about them. 

• To look beyond the poster.

• Beyond the name.

• Beyond the followers.

• Beyond the posts.

• Beyond the promise of more.

 And to ask whether what is being offered has genuine educational validity for the young dancer standing in that room. Because perhaps the measure of a masterclass should never simply be who is standing at the front of the room, but the depth of teaching taking place — and what the dancers take with them when they leave. 

So perhaps my final message is a simple one: Think before you book.

Support our young dancers in seeking education, not quick fixes. Ask whether the training develops understanding, technique, strength and control — or whether it simply promises more: more turns, higher jumps, deeper stretches and greater extremes. And particularly when it comes to flexibility, perhaps we need to stop assuming that every young body should be able to achieve the range of movement being presented to it. Extreme flexibility has long existed within highly specialised disciplines such as rhythmic gymnastics, where it forms part of the specific physical demands of the sport. But that does not automatically mean that the same expectations should be transferred into mainstream dance training — particularly to large groups of recreational children with very different bodies, levels of physical development and technical foundations.

Research into young dancers already gives us reason to be cautious about extensive stretching and physical overload, particularly during growth, while research specifically addressing the consequences of extreme flexibility and oversplit training in recreational young dancers remains limited. So until we know more, perhaps “How far can this young dancer stretch?” is not the question we should be asking. Perhaps the better question is:

“What does this young dancer actually need in order to develop safely, intelligently and artistically?” Think before you book.

A masterclass should contribute to a young dancer's education

not simply test how far we can push their body or

how many choreos and tricks they can learn.