Sometimes, it’s nice to win

On June 21, I had the honor of attending the Arts Council of Rockland 2023 Arts Awards as a nominee for the arts educator category.

It was a lovely evening that celebrated the creative achievements of so many artists in Rockland County, where I have lived most of my life. This was my fourth time being nominated; and I have felt like the Susan Lucci of these local arts awards. (I know that reference dated me. IYKYK)

I decided to wear my “lucky red dress” to the event. It’s the same dress that I wore during the 2014 Metro awards (it still fits) when our production of In the Heights was nominated for a whole lot of awards including Outstanding Overall Production and we got to perform in front of a theater full of outstanding performers and educators. Let’s just say, my kids brought everyone to their feet.

That year, I won for Outstanding Choreography, which was a most outstanding feeling to accept in front of my students sitting in the front row.

For the ACOR awards, I felt I needed all the help I could get, so I decided to wear a pair of earrings my father gave me a long time ago, two of my mom’s favorite rings, a necklace and a bracelet that she literally never took off. She gave them to me the week she passed; I was visiting her, knowing it would be the last time, and before she eventually slipped away, she told me to put them on. In wearing them, I figured maybe I could channel her energy; it felt good, like a hug from her.

Finally, I had my gorgeous date, my husband who has always been my staunchest supporter and advocate. He cleans up quite nicely and I was so happy to have him by my side. I always feel special in his presence.

We arrived and were greeted by a lovely reception; lots of food and treats, a silent auction, and tons of artsy people. It’s nice to be in a place where creative spirits are celebrated.

I also ran into an old colleague of mine, Maggie Bryant. We both received our Masters degree in dance education from Teachers College, Columbia University and for a time, we were counterparts in the two high schools. Together, we created the dance curriculum that I still use today. She now teaches in Scarsdale. I miss her sparkly positivity.

After the reception, we found our seats and settled in. Luckily, my category was the first to be announced, so I wouldn’t be tortured from anticipation all night. See, this being my fourth nomination, I have gotten used to hearing someone else’s name and clapping for them. The nominees were told to prepare a brief speech (just in case we actually won). At first, I wasn’t going to. After all, I’d been nominated and lost 3 other times. But, I am a creature of following directions, and I didn’t want to make an utter fool of myself in front of a bunch of strangers if I did win. So that morning, I wrote down what I wanted everyone to know about what my career of an arts educator really meant to me; award or no award.

Satisfied with that, I was happy to be present and part of the celebration of so many wonderful artists. When it was award time, I was prepared to hear someone else’s name. Only this time, I heard my name. In that instant, I got a jolt of surprise and giddyness. As I walked down to accept, I was fumbling to unlock my phone to open the speech I had cobbled together that morning. I was praying I wouldn’t have a trip-and-fall-down-the-stairs incident. Thankfully, I arrived unscathed.

The award was so pretty: a blown glass teardrop with purple and gold glitter inside. Ronnie Sue would have loved it. And, they spelled my name correctly, something that is usually a 50/50 shot at best.

After receiving the beautifully boxed prize, I stood at the microphone and in my best teacher voice, delivered the words I wanted everyone to know:

Congratulations to all of the finalists, especially Marilyn and Alexandreena – I am certainly in esteemed company.

As soon as I directed and choreographed my first Thespian show there in 1996 (with Neil Berg as my pianist), I realized that Spring Valley High School was a very special place. Little did I know it would define who I am as a creative artist, as a teacher, as a mom and as a partner. I grew into my adulthood with Spring Valley in both the foreground and the background, and it has been the place where I have experienced my greatest achievements, including the birth of my two daughters. My kids know that they have countless extended “siblings” who have watched them grow into the young adults they are now.

My job is more than a place where I spent 8, 10, sometimes 12 hours of my day. My career is more like a love letter to who I am and who I’ve always wanted to be. I have had the pleasure of meeting some of my dearest friends, and rediscovering the magic of the arts education that I had the fortune to grow up with. Only this time, I was in the driver’s seat and I was making the decisions. That’s an exciting and super scary space to inhabit; to be charged with the emotional well-being of scores of adolescents and encourage them to find their own creative pathways.

Fast forward about 27 years: fall plays, spring musicals, dance concerts, thousands of hugs, mistakes, epiphanies and innumerable achievements large and small. I am proud to be an arts educator, proud of the connections I’ve had the honor to make, and continue to make.

Thank you to my daughters, Julia and Sophia, for sharing your mom with so many other kids.

Thank you to my husband, Chris, for supporting me in all the hours I’ve spent in that school building and for all the taco nights and Mr. Tirro cookies you’ve shared with “my kids”.

Thank you to ACOR for recognizing my work, which really is, for the most part, my playground.

My faithful hubby took a video of my win and acceptance speech.

Overall, I am so grateful for this award. It is a lovely nod to the 27 years I’ve spent building the career of a lifetime. I wasn’t kidding when I called it my playground. When you get to spend your time at work dancing, creating and collaborating with people who are just as smitten by the performing arts, the time passes quickly. It hasn’t been easy, per se, but I wouldn’t trade my experience for anything.