Dance for All: Including Students with Disabilities

My childhood was a little less than typical. Okay, much less. Don’t get me wrong, I am immensely grateful for my parents and my siblings and the experiences I had growing up. But my family is different than most.

You see, I’m the oldest of 18 children. Yep, 18. My parents have adopted 15 children over the last 25 years or so.

My siblings span a wide range of ages, races, and abilities. The whole crazy adventure started when I was 10 years old, and my parents told me and my two biological sisters that they were adopting a little boy. He had club feet and webbed hands and would require major surgery before he was a year old.

He was followed by another brother with Asperger’s and a sister who is wheelchair-bound with CP. Eventually, I would have siblings from all over the U.S. as well as Ethiopia, Russia, Korea, and Hong Kong. Two have Down’s Syndrome, and two are in wheelchairs. Some were adopted as infants, others were older. Their individual stories are all wildly different and entirely remarkable.

Obviously, my parents are special people, though they would argue with that. They felt a calling on their lives and accepted. I wouldn’t dare speak for them, but I would love to tell you how growing up in this family affected my life, my career, and my calling.

I’m not gonna lie. I was a typical teenager, and I resented the fact that I had all these people living in my house. Lots of kids meant lots of things that had to get done. So I had plenty of chores and plenty of responsibility, and I wasn’t too happy about it. Of course, today I’m grateful for the endless list of benefits I received from growing up this way. But while I was busy learning how to do laundry, change baby diapers, set up feeding tubes, mow grass, spread mulch (the worst job on the planet), and generally be responsible, an underlying truth was settling into my heart.

It took me a long time to put into words what I already knew thanks to my upbringing. In fact, it wasn’t until I decided to open my own dance studio and was working through the process of coming up with a mission statement and core values that I really thought it all through. But here’s what I know: ALL CHILDREN HAVE WORTH. That’s it. All children have worth and are worth our best—our time, our attention, and our love. ALL children.

I’ve been in the dance teacher/private dance studio industry for 18 years, and I love teaching. Any teacher (dance or otherwise) will tell you how exciting it is to have a student in class that just gets it. You know, the ones that were just born to dance. Their natural talent is ridiculous, they work hard in class, they’re humble (though this gets harder as they get older), and they make you look good.

But what about all those other kids in class? You know, the ones that just kind of like to move and love hanging out with their friends, but don’t have much talent or drive? What about kids that physically can’t do what their peers can? What about the kids that might never physically progress?

Aren’t they worth my same effort, time, and attention? Aren’t they worth my best?

The answer is absolutely.

Here’s what I know for sure: dance is great for everybody. And everyone can benefit from dancing. The physical benefits are phenomenal, the mental and spiritual benefits every bit as important. Why wouldn’t we make this accessible for any and every one?

So, five years ago I started a dance class specifically for students with disabilities. I don’t know why I didn’t do this way earlier, but it took some tough-love encouragement from my mom for me to finally get moving (when my mom says do something, I do it!). I had no idea what I was doing, no idea who would show up for class, and no idea whether there would even be any interest. But I did it anyway.

I never dreamed that first class and subsequent classes would affect me and my business the way they have. I never thought the mere presence of these sweet kids in my lobby would change the whole tone of my studio. I never thought I would get teary-eyed the first time a little girl with CP was physically able to get both feet off the floor and jump. I didn’t know how amazing it would feel to watch a non-verbal child with autism get excited and respond to music. I never imagined the warm reception and amazing ovation these students would receive when they performed at our annual recital. I didn’t know they would remind everyone connected to the studio—from students to parents to staff—what a sheer joy it is to be able to dance.

The dance world is always changing, and dance classes and curriculum for students with disabilities is on the rise across the country. I am so encouraged and excited by this! As Dance Without Limits grows and expands, I am looking forward to not only adding more Limitless Friends classes, but also being able to include students with disabilities in our regular dance classes. It is important to me that, as much as possible, all kids feel they are a welcome part of all we do here at the dance studio.

To the parents of my students with disabilities, thank you for sharing your children with us. They are truly a joy (as you know!).

To the parents of my typical students, I hope you are as excited as I am to welcome students of all abilities to our dance studio. It’s such an awesome opportunity to expose our kids to one of God’s greatest gifts: that He made each of us different!

To my fellow dance teachers and studio owners, if you haven’t started seeking out students with disabilities, do it! I know it’s scary and you feel like you have no idea what you’re doing, but I promise you’ll never regret it.

Thanks, Mom and Dad, for teaching me so many things that I never thought I’d need in my chosen career. I’m forever grateful I got you for my family.

If you’d like more information on our Limitless Friends class, or inclusion in any of our other dance classes, please contact us. My email is beth@dancewithoutlimits.co, and the studio phone is 864-412-7788.

—Miss Beth