It's not that she didn't have a real job. She taught dance. For fifteen years she ran Lynn's Academie of Dance. But that's not enough of a real job to pay the bills for a family, for insurance.
So she sold the dance school.
On Saturday they had a recital. Forty-five girls, from 4 to 18.
It was probably like many dance recitals in many places.
But here's Lynn's legacy. Many dancers weren't built like dancers. Not like the ballet dancers you see in the Joffrey. Not like the hip hop dancers in the videos, not like the tap dancers in the shows.
They are pretty much built like the kids you see in the ordinary classrooms in the ordinary schools in the ordinary towns. Some of them live with Down's Syndrome. Some of them live with numbers on the BMI that are higher than recommended. In skin color, in distance from nose to toes, they varied. One of them even had white hair.And all of these kids (and 5 adult students) flew. They spun, they tapped, they leapt, they laughed. Their pieces told stories. They leaned on each other. They lifted each other. Even for a non-dance observer, there was something happening that was, well, special.
And near the end, they did their own thing. They wrote their own tribute to Lynn, with their bodies, they wrote. Together the kids created. The older kids led the little ones on and off, carefully. And they danced with abandon, with passion. And they each went to her as the piece finished for one last touch.
Lynn hired teachers to teach from her heart. She allowed in kids who none of us would imagine could walk straight, let alone dance. And every single one of them flew straight from the stage to our hearts.
In fifteen years, Lynn Kuti created a community of young people that cared and created and did better than they dreamed. And in the meantime, they danced.
Small business people can do that, can create communities.
You can do that.
26 comments:
>Having trouble commenting? Read our comment help.
Use only your real name in the name field. Read our full comment policy.