The Surprising Thing Missing from My Dance Training

Christina Redondo
Jun 15
5 min read

Before We Get Started

Listen. I have spent my life toggling between being the worst dancer in some rooms and the best in others.

In classes where we were training technique and drilling choreography? I stood out for the wrong reasons. I mean, I auditioned for the VCU dance program THREE TIMES. I even met with faculty before my final attempt, asking for tips. Still didn’t get in.

Dancing at the bar with my friends? Whole different story. Either they cheer me on and shower me with praise, or they feel intimidated and shrink themselves a little.

This has been confusing and lonely, to say the least.

If you want the full story, you can read it [here, coming soon]. Everything I’m about to say has been shaped by my own training, years of teaching, my burnout, and eventually, my revival.

**And yes - this is also informed by my ongoing study in behavioral science, cognitive psychology and social-emotional learning. [Certs & Creds Here]

The Missing Piece Wasn’t More Training

You probably know this on some level - the brain and the body learn differently. At this point, with the internet and everything, we all know how to eat healthy, how to build a morning routine, how to (fill in the blank) and yet, we don’t do it.

I was spending up to 20 hours per week in the studio rehearsing between ages 5-18, and then for the next decade, swapping those studio hours for teaching. It wasn’t more training I needed, it was emotional safety.

Without feeling emotionally and psychologically safe, our nervous system can’t integrate what we learn. Without it, even the best choreography executed with the most precise technique just floats on the surface.

I didn’t need to practice more. I needed a space where it felt safe to fail forward.

What Science Says About This

When a dancer feels unsafe - whether it’s from external pressure or their own internal critic - the body freezes. This isn’t just a metaphor. It’s biology.

The reality is, most students come into the studio already carrying a harsh inner critic. I say “most” because we’ve all been shaped by living in a white supremacist, capitalistic, perfection-obsessed culture. For some of us it’s amplified by how we were raised.

Even the most kind and gently delivered correction can still land like a threat. You’ve seen it before when a student says, “they yelled at me!” and you’re like, omg no one was yelling. Our nervous systems respond to how we internalize things, not necessarily to what really happened.

And let’s be honest, teachers - when you’re running a piece and the music is blaring, the only way for students to even hear you is to yell over the music. Whether you’re screaming just to be heard or not, a sensitive nervous system doesn’t know the difference.

Then there are the times you offer a correction softly - five, six, seven times -and it feels like the student is either ignoring you or testing your patience, until you shout through your clenched jaw, “CHRIS-TEEN-AH! For the last time, POINT your TOES!”

Why would it take my ballet teacher eight times to correct me before I would finally point them? Because even before she opened her mouth, I was already shut down, frozen. Just knowing she was watching me was enough to flood me with panic.

Eventually, I would POINT my TOES. Not because I was integrating the technique, but because the urgency to avoid her anger outweighed the original fear of messing up. The nervous system doubles down on its hyper-vigilance.

(*Dance teachers, please keep reading. I know you don’t have time to be everyone’s therapist.)

The Irony of Our Psychology

You may have experienced this yourself: what we focus on shapes what happens next.

If your inner voice relentlessly whispers “you better not forget the combo” - guess what? Your brain is far more likely to go blank when the music starts. The brain latches onto what you spotlight, especially under stress.

Some call this “choking under pressure” and it’s a real thing. Anxiety disrupts your automatic motor skills. Again, this is not a skill issue or lack of talent, but has more to do with an overwhelmed nervous system.

Here’s another one worth mentioning: The Permission Paradox.

When someone is in a bad mood, telling them to “cheer up” actually makes them feel worse. But if instead you say, “hey, it’s okay to be sad,” it creates space for the feeling and can actually help lift their mood.

In dance, giving yourself permission to not be perfect, to feel awkward, or to just get out there and have fun, can be the key to breaking free from the freeze. When your body is feeling safe enough to be authentically in-the-moment, that’s when your full potential really starts to shine through.

Where the Gap Really Is

To sum it up, what was missing from my dance training - and what I believe is still missing from most studios today - isn’t discipline, dedication, or better teachers. It’s the emotional and social support that helps dancers integrate what they’re learning in class.

*And here’s the thing: this is not something teachers are supposed to be responsible for. There simply isn’t enough time, space, or emotional bandwidth in class for that. Nor should there be. In class, students are there to rehearse, drill, refine, and improve. Period.

But that doesn’t mean they don’t also need support.

What’s needed is something that runs alongside traditional training, a space where dancers can process the emotional side of class, share and hear from their peers, and feel seen beyond their technique.

In class, we say “let me see it full out this time.” The support system asks “what might be holding you back from dancing full out?” In class, we spend 3 minutes building their confidence with a group rally. The support system gives space for dancers to explore what’s really going on underneath their hesitation.

This is the kind of reflection that doesn’t replace technical training, it strengthens it. Because once we clear the emotional clutter, dancers can actually receive, integrate, and dare I say - be genuinely grateful - for the corrections they’re given, instead of filtering everything through their internalized shame.

My Proposed Solution:

I’m launching a support project called The Dance Circle - a space designed to close the gap and help dancers build their emotional strength alongside their technical training.

If that sounds like something you want to be part of, click here to learn more.

**Want the Full Backstory?

This perspective comes from lived experience, not just theory.

If you want to read the deeper story behind how I burned out, reconnected with dance, and re-learned how to teach, you can find it [here, coming soon].