Megan Fairchild in Jerome Robbins' Dances at a Gathering. PC Paul Kolnik, Courtesy NYCB
From the minute my journey as a dancer began at age 4, there were no other options of what I might do with my life.
Sure, I tried other "after-school activities." I tried desperately to master The Phantom of the Opera with my squeaky violin rental—a headache for my parents who paid for private Suzuki method lessons at our house. Constantly attempting famous show tunes on my violin, the effort was completely futile. I actually remember thinking, 'Surely this sheet music is wrong, this sounds nothing like the Phantom of the Opera.'
I even tried my hand at gymnastics. But when my mom's brilliant bribery of $100 for my first mastery of a kip or a back handspring didn't produce any results, we quickly threw in the towel.
Waking up in the morningafter a late performance and walking to class isn't always easy. But once I'm in the studio and the pianist begins, a familiar rhythm ensues.
I love the physicality of this routine. It is like solving a puzzle every day, translating the imagery in my mind into my body. Ballet technique is an art in itself: the art of engaging some muscles and relaxing others, balancing hips over toes, and shaping fingers and feet.