by Jochelle Pereña, Luna Teaching Artist

It’s rehearsal. My collaborator and I are in the studio, surrounded by cover letters, calculators and laptops. Are we dancing? No, we have a grant due and are scrambling to collate application piles, six copies of this here, six copies of that there. This application asks for staples and hole punches; that one will not be viewed if it is stapled. We jokingly daydream of sugar daddies and trust funds that would allow us to focus solely on our art making. Like most dance artists, we spend just as much time writing grants, applications, doing arts administration, as we do in rehearsal.  Just as much time attempting to articulate in words what is best expressed through movement, only to discover that we’re 200 words over the grant application’s word count.  So we trim, trim, trim down our proposal to fit in the box, when really we’re trying to show how creative and out-of-the-box-thinking we are as choreographers.

I get it. Funders want to know that they’re investing in a legitimate project, in artists who will follow through. Often the only evidence they have of that is a stack of paper – budgets, bios, artistic statements, proposals. But what if the choreography spoke for itself? I mean, isn’t that what dance is supposed to do? What if funders could see and feel the art in action – even just the seeds of a piece – and then choose how to invest? Wouldn’t this be more authentic? And what would artists do with that “extra” time – the hours they spent grant writing? I’m willing to bet they’d be in the studio, making the best damn dance piece they could. A pretty sound investment.

Online crowdsourcing sites like Kickstarter and Indiegogo offer an alternative for artists. Through video and short paragraphs choreographers create webpages that present their work with language and an aesthetic in line with their vision – rather than laboring over the grant application checklist of multiple budgets and bios. As they share the link over email and social media, they promote their upcoming project all in one. One heartwarming thing that has emerged from crowdsourcing and social networking is the infrastructure of reciprocity amongst dance artists. Sheena contributed to my campaign, so I will certainly donate to hers. Colin encouraged his facebook friends to check out my link, I will do the same for him. We seem to be handing that same (virtual) $5, $10 and $20 bills back and forth as we support each other’s work. And it feels good to be backed by fellow artists, like we’re all in this thing together. The beauty of this model is that anyone, even if they are not art makers, can help make art happen by giving a little something.

I’ve had success with crowdsourcing, although for me it’s been more like communitysourcing. I am so grateful to all who have contributed to my projects (thank you thank you thank you!!), but all of my donors, like my audience members, have been my family and friends and dance colleagues. How can I widen my donor and audience base so that more people are interested and invested in my work, so that show nights are not just “Friends & Family Nights?”

With CHOREOFUND, Luna Dance Institute proposes an answer to this, and to my query regarding choreography speaking for itself. With hints of microfinancing and So You Think You Can Dance, CHOREOFUND presents six choreographers to an audience of thirty, each of whom drops two twenty-dollar bills in the kitty. Dance artists have an eight minute time limit to show their work and explain their project, and after seeing them all, the audience votes on which choreographer should be awarded the pool of $1200.  It’s minimal paperwork and a direct give to the artist, based on her dance. It combines the fun and immediacy of a dance-off contest with the significance of making relevant art. Viewers become dance patrons, and get a peek at the very intimate, unpolished seeds of a dance piece. Choreographers meet potential new supporters and fans – people who want and actually do go to see more of their work. Luna provides the venue and the viewers, artists just have to show up and do what they do best.

While open to anyone and everyone, Luna particularly invites audience members who might not necessarily find themselves at countless dance concerts, or consider themselves philanthropists. They get to see how a small contribution can have a huge impact, and they are given a voice to be involved in the art scene, perhaps made more accessible. The goal is to cultivate more dance audience, more dance lovers – to bring all people to dance and dance to all people. And it is to keep raising the bar for choreography by allowing artists more time to actually make the dance, instead of writing about it.

by Patricia Reedy, Luna’s founder

The other day there was an article in the San Francisco Chronicle about a business philanthropist wanting to give money to San Francisco middle schools. Beyond tablets, and their respective ability for alternate ways to process learning, the SFUSD could not imagine uses for additional funds. This was incredible to me. We are a medium sized nonprofit and could at any moment identify entire program needs for gifts ranging from $5,000 to $5,000,000. “Knowing the need” is embedded in our mission statement and the continuing assessment that is part and parcel of our program planning and design.  Is there something inherent in the size and bureaucratic set up of school districts that keeps vision so far away from finances? Are we at Luna more nimble because we are small? We work extensively in Oakland. I began to wonder if the Oakland Unified School District would be ready to receive such a generous offer.

I do not profess to understand anything about the inner workings or politics of school districts in general, or Oakland Unified School District specifically. All I know is my own organization’s experience as contract service provider over the past 11 years. We’ve been active in the district in lean times and less lean times, but mostly during the period of severe shifts caused by the teaching-to-the-test interpretation of No Child Left Behind. Despite the rather draconian policies and practices emerging throughout the nation, several visionary teachers and administrators in Oakland have seen the value of the arts to a child’s comprehensive education. For lots of reasons that have more to do with perception than evidence, dance is often the least likely art form to be included in program design; nonetheless, we’ve enjoyed building dance programs in key schools throughout the district. Our partnership with New Highland Academy has been most successful, due in large part to the consistent efforts of the principal, faculty and our organization to fund and deliver the program continually over time despite the whims of budget or trends that come down from the district or state department of education.

Our work at Grass Valley is new, but the relationship emerged from a series of unfortunate events that I fear is all too common in large, urban school districts. We were first approached in 2003 by a visionary principal at newly reorganized Tilden Elementary, a designated inclusion school. Tilden served children preK through second grade with and without disabilities; and the principal, teachers and therapist saw the value of dance to their students’ learning. For more than six years we worked to build a program that included weekly classes for students pre-K through 2^nd grade, professional development for teachers and paraprofessionals, collaborative curriculum planning so that dance could be integrated into other academic subject matter, as well as offered as a discrete subject, and the first school performance assemblies with nationally known artists and dance companies. The stories of success were numerous. Children with autism learned to partner dance with peers, speak for the first time and increased their capacity to “self-sooth.” Two separate national conferences invited us to present the work at Tilden so that other professionals could learn strategies and be inspired. As we approached our 6^th year, the principal was replaced with a principal who did not understand how “these kids” could learn “ballet” but at the insistence of the faculty allowed the program to continue anyway. That final year was grim because the district had decided to close the school site, relocate the families and use the building for district offices.

The close-knit group of teachers dispersed, but many of the families went on to attend Thurgood Marshall Elementary and one of the accompanying teachers asked us to build a program there. The principal at Marshall was supportive and strong and we began once again to build a sequence of dance learning (K-3 this time.) Because of our relationship with the Tilden teacher and her strong leadership skills, we clipped along quickly and, in only two years, four separate grade levels were receiving dance classes and teachers reported accompanying progress in language, expression, confidence and social interaction.  Then, the district closed Marshall and relocated staff and families once again.

All four of our partner teachers at Marshall accompanied their families to Grass Valley Elementary where, with luck, another supportive principal encouraged the continuation of the dance program with the potential for building it out school-wide. Thus, this fall brings us to the second year at Grass Valley working with five teachers toward a scope-and-sequence of standards-based dance learning for all students. Imagine then our frustration when the district changed their contract process, resulting in a halt in services six weeks into the semester.

In the past, Oakland Unified School District had been notorious for its complicated contract process, resulting in artists and other contractors being paid late, sometimes as late as a year. Knowing this in advance, we quickly learned how to dot our i’s and cross our t’s, to be timely in our own response and to know the individuals who could nudge things along. We learned that, among other things, there was no district contract manager, unbelievable for a district that size so when they hired one three years ago, we were thrilled and things moved along swiftly in 2011-12 and 2012-13. This year, the district created an online system that has thrown everything into chaos. The administrative assistants at each school are now responsible for creating the online profiles and contracts and passing the process back and forth between a one-person tech support district contract person and their own office until all parts are satisfied and the contract can be sent for three separate district signatures, then a purchase order number can be issued and work can begin. Ultimately, this process might increase efficiency, but at present, the school personnel does not understand the process and there is a great deal of confusion, mis-communication and hurt feelings arising from people being expected to do a job without clear guidelines or training.

As a relationship-based organization, we pride ourselves in ending each year with an all-hands evaluation process and subsequent planning for the next year. Together, we are BUILDING a program and thus, continuity and progress is essential. By June of each prior year, new budgets are designed and new scopes of work for the upcoming year agreed upon. Luna faculty wants each child to receive the full 32 weeks of dance learning so we start right after Labor Day. This year was no different. We launched and taught weekly classes to over 600 children in 21 classes. Six weeks in, with no contract in sight, we have to pause, taking a break from service because technically, it isn’t prudent to work without a contract. This week, everyone is losing out. The school personnel doesn’t understand that in order to avoid the temporary “shut down” they needed to move things faster and figure out how to do so; the classroom teachers are left to figure out how to fill in the extra time with other curriculum; the children do not understand what happened to their dance classes and we at Luna have staff on payroll dismayed at doing administrative work while they wait to apply their craft. Our teachers have decades of experience teaching, performing and making dance. They are anxious to get back to doing what they do best.

In the context of a federal government shut down, this seems like a minor glitch—and we all know it is temporary and within a few weeks children will be creating and performing beautiful dance phrases that express their understanding of concepts, ideas, feelings and observations of the world around them. Yet, throughout the past 11 years, we’ve often felt like we were solely holding the continuity and progress of actualizing the district’s own Blueprint for Learning in Dance K-12. Today I wonder if Oakland would have an answer for Marc Benioff if he asked what they could do with a donation several million dollars?

by Alisa Rasera, Luna Teaching Artist

As if my respect and awe of the job description of those caring for and guiding students in schools wasn’t already super high, it has been exceeded in this new school year by how I have witnessed teachers handle the needs of a middle school girl who has had 11 seizures since the first day of school. Two of these disconcerting moments happened during dance. After it happened more than once I began to wonder if it was something in the curriculum setting them off! I witnessed some chaos, fast thinking/reacting and ultimately how the teachers and staff needed to shift all attention to the needs of this young girl. As a dance teaching artist, we often feel shut out of the day to day happenings and information that is known amongst school faculty. However, when it involves the well -being & health of a student, I should hope we are invited to the conversation as trusted, caring adults. After the second incident, I was made privy to understanding the protocol.

It was emotional for me. I showed up with dance curriculum that I was excited to teach and then minutes into the exploration, a child’s body breaks down and cries for help. Realizing that between the multiple para-professionals in the room, classroom teacher, nurse and administrators, my unassumed role was to figure out how to hold the rest of the students (whether in dance class structure or other) outside of the dance space, keep anxiety from rising and  keep them safe. Also on a personal level, I wanted to feel secure that someday when I send my daughters to school, that they would be lovingly cared for and safely kept by those I was entrusting them to. It really felt emotional.

Of course, my concern for the student experiencing the seizure was at the heart of my sadness. As the paramedics arrived (both times) and took her to Children’s Hospital, I was thankful and hopeful that something that she did or heard in dance during those minutes before her body tensed up may help her to find her way back. It may not be a straight pathway, but she knows how to dance curvy and zig zag after all.

by Patricia Reedy, Luna’s founder

Today marks the third day of the United States government being shut down for the most ridiculous reason. The cover story of this morning’s San Francisco Chronicle, “Feeling the Pinch in the Bay Area” does not mention the impact on organizations like Luna–arts organizations awaiting disbursement on grants from the National Endowment for the Arts or nonprofit education organizations waiting for payments on contracts with the Department of Education in order to make payroll. Yet, managing cash flow is a relatively minor worry to my concern over the children with whom we work.

How does a parent explain to a child that the entire nation’s government is shutting down because a few men (and one woman) are mad that they didn’t get their way on a particular health care bill? The bill passed and they fought it all the way to the Supreme Court—democracy in action. The Supreme Court allowed the Affordable Care Act to continue and those men are still mad so they are holding the country hostage—shutting everything down because they still want to get their way. Many things about this are troubling, but two things are particularly hard on children. The first is that children have a desire to understand fairness. It is part of a developmental process that raises healthy, humane citizens. They also need boundaries. How can children accept limits and learn to adapt when the role models provided them don’t? How can they understand that holding their breath until they turn blue, or destroying a toy so that another child can’t play with it is an inappropriate response when those working at the highest level of government are doing something similar? Secondly, children need security, they need to know that people will be there for them until they are grown-up and can take care of themselves. The insecurity caused by a government shutdown, obsessively portrayed second-by-second in the media affects everyone. Imagine, then, the impact on children living in families already stressed by unemployment, the mortgage crisis and poverty.