Dear Current and Future Families,
When Dena asked me to write a letter to our current and future dancers, I immediately said yes. She has done so much for me over the years, and she is one of the few people I know I can always turn to—whether it’s dance-related or not. From the moment you walk through the doors, she sets high expectations, but more importantly, she instills belief and confidence in every student. That sense of confidence doesn’t stay in the studio—it follows you into your everyday life. Elevate has truly become my second home, and the values I’ve learned there remain, and always will remain, part of my moral foundation.
To understand why Elevate means so much to me, it helps to look back at where we started. When I first joined, I was one of only 7 kids in my class, and we were dancing in the play center of LifeTime Fitness. It was a huge shift as I had just transferred from a different ballet school. This school was rigid and strict, and it followed many outdated beliefs in dance; all of it started to push me away from something I loved. When my mom heard that Dena was starting her own studio, we dropped everything at my old school and made the switch. Was there an official dance floor? No. Was there only one room, and was it a shared space? Yes. But the most important question was simple: was I happy? And I was.
Unlike my previous experience, Elevate balanced structure with individuality and compassion. There were dress codes that made us feel professional and respected, but there was also space to express ourselves—whether through a colored skirt or fun leggings. We were taught discipline, technique, and dedication, yet we were also encouraged to grow into our own unique dancers. That balance made all the difference.
As I continued to grow up at Elevate, I began to understand that the lessons I learned extended far beyond basic technique. One of the most important values our studio has is classroom etiquette—not just the usual “don’t talk while the teacher is talking,” but how to truly receive and appreciate criticism. I was taught that when a teacher corrected you- whether it was “point your toes” or “engage your core”-it was a gift. Corrections meant that the teacher saw you, saw that you could go further, and encouraged you to take the leap. Criticism was never an attack, it was always a hand that pulled me up.
One experience has always stuck with me. One year, in one of my Jazz classes, my teacher, Miss Janelle, didn’t correct me. I was leaping across the floor, and I didn’t feel like I was doing my best. Sometimes there are days off when my body is tired, or I have a mental block, safe to say I was not confident that night. When the end of the night came, and I never got corrected, I went home and cried. I had thought that Miss Janelle had seen my poor performance in class and had given up on me. If she didn’t correct me,it was because she thought that this was as good as I was going to get and that any other advice would go to waste. Now this was not true at all, but my insecure teenage brain didn’t understand that yet. The next week, I went to Miss Janelle and asked her if she would look at my leaps this week and correct me. She then spent almost the entire class with her eyes glued to me, and I was corrected over and over again. Later, over the years, I told her this story, and she laughed, saying she didn’t remember that night, but not once has she ever thought of me as a poor dancer. She explained that if I didn’t get a correction that night, it meant she noticed I was tired and needed a rest. Though I had a poor performance in class, she hadn’t corrected me that day. And it was only because she thought I was feeling tired. Then she said something I will never forget: “Those days don’t make you a bad dancer. They make you human. What matters is that you came back ready to improve.”
Since then, that idea has stayed with me—not just in dance, but in life. When I fail a quiz or forget to check in on a friend, I remind myself that those moments don’t define me. They simply make me human, and they allow me to be a little better the next day. In fact, that mindset connects directly to another lesson Dena constantly reminded us of: “Just do it 1% better than last time.” After a run-through, no matter how hard we worked, there was always room to improve. But perfection was never the goal- progress was. Over time this idea became something I carried with me far beyond the studio.
Unfortunately, like many teens of this generation, I’ve suffered from depression almost all of my life. Sometimes it’s hard to get out of bed in the morning, and most of my energy is put into acting like everyone else-getting my school work done, memorizing choreography, and interacting with people. I spent many days not taking care of myself because it felt like too much work. Too much effort to wash my face in the morning or pick an outfit for school. During those times, Dena’s voice was always in the back of my mind, “Just try for 1% better”. If I didn’t talk with anyone that day, I would whisper “1% better” and ask my mom about her day at dinner. I wasn’t planning a social outing with my friends or calling my cousin on FaceTime, but I asked a question and actively listened. It wasn’t a huge step, but I made an effort, and that effort mattered. I still continue to finish everyday 1% better than the last.
As I’ve grown up, I’ve managed my mental health and use dance as an outlet. “Leave it all on the dance floor,” my teachers would say. Come into class and leave all of your worries at the door. You couldn’t study for an exam while you danced, so why worry about it? You couldn’t solve all of your problems during class, so acknowledge it and let it go. For a few hours, I learned to set my worries aside and focus on myself- listening to my body, moving freely, and laughing with friends without overthinking. Even now, as an adult, I still do this, even if what I’m leaving behind is simply the need to get gas on the way home. Whether I’m dancing or simply ending my day, I allow myself to shed all of my worries and pick them up tomorrow.
At Elevate, you’re not just going to learn how to be a good dancer; you’re going to learn how to be human. If you’re in pre-primary, you’re going to learn life skills like putting on your shoes by yourself and how to count to 8. As you grow up, you’ll learn how to manage the stresses of life and how to say thank you to criticism. And as an adult, you’ll learn how to have confidence in learning new things and set high expectations for yourself. I don’t know who I would have become without Elevate and Miss Dena, but I know I wouldn’t be the strong, confident, and loving person I am today. As always, never miss a chance to dance.
Emma Kerber
Class of 2026
Elevate Dancer, Season 1-9