Why I Became a Teacher of the Alexander Technique

In 1975, long before I experienced my first Alexander lesson, I came across the book, “The Resurrection of the Body”, a collection of writings by F. Matthias Alexander. At that time I knew nothing about the man or his work. What I did know is that after five years of intensive ballet training, followed by five years of not dancing, I missed working with my body and was looking for a new way to approach movement. Although this memory dates back over thirty years, I can still recall how the title of the book stood out among the numerous volumes on the library shelf – an unexpected discovery that felt perfectly timed and deeply appreciated.

In retrospect, this memory seems more like a significant beginning rather than pure accident. In fact, whenever I look back over time, I tend to see an organic logic that makes even the most obvious of accidents look purposeful – especially in reference to the events which lead up to my decision to become a teacher of the Alexander Technique.

In the spring of 1985 I had recently returned from performing with my company in Washington, DC. After seven years as a professional dancer/choreographer, I had developed an active career, yet was beginning to feel dissatisfied with the direction of my work. It was during this time period that the Alexander Technique re-entered my life, only this time it was more than a book title which drew me to the work.

On April 8th, 1985, I was walking across Eighth Avenue in New York City, when a pickup truck knocked me out of the crosswalk and on to the pavement. Shortly after the accident I was diagnosed as having nerve damage and a torn medial meniscus of the left knee. Having had no previous injuries, I was thrown into a completely new territory of healing and rehabilitation.

For this reason I felt especially grateful when I received a phone call from choreographer Trisha Brown during the first week of my recovery. She had experience with knee injuries and recommended that I look into working with Judith Stern, a seasoned physical therapist who was, at the same time, training to be a teacher of the Alexander Technique. Trisha also recommended that I take lessons with Eva Karczag, a former dancer in her company and certified Alexander Technique teacher.

As my healing progressed, my work with Judy and Eva became increasingly important. Although I had regained some strength, I was finding it difficult to move with precision and subtlety. When I explained this to my doctor, his only response was that I was now better and there was nothing more he could do for me.

Judy and Eva, on the other hand, had a very different approach to my problem. Instead of insisting that I was “better”, they helped me listen to my body. Through their guidance, I was able to find a new kind of awareness that not only helped me recover from my injury, but also had a profound effect on both my creative and personal growth. As my Alexander lessons continued, I noticed that I was beginning to trust myself more fully, to support myself with a flow of energy rather than through holding, to listen to what was happening, rather than focusing on what was not happening, and to feel conviction in the face of adversity.

In addition to being inspired by this process of healing and self-discovery, becoming a teacher of the Alexander Technique was a natural extension of my dance work. Unlike some forms of dance, my work focuses on the use of energy, rather than superficial shape and form. Because I use improvisation, my skills depend on a finely-tuned sense of internal movement. Perceiving information within the body, as well as from the external environment, is an essential part of both practice and performance.

All my life I have been fascinated by the process of communication. My strongest and most vivid experiences have dealt with feeling connected with others, finding a bridge between myself and someone else. As a performing artist, I enjoy the creative process involved in communicating with an audience, but I also feel the need for a more intimate kind of communication – the kind I experience in the one-on-one relationship between teacher and student. Being a teacher of the Alexander Technique provides a perfect framework for this type of communication. For me, teaching is a transforming experience. That human beings are capable of changing and growing – above all else, this gives me hope. Finally, it is this feeling of hope that is at the root of my all work as a teacher of the Alexander Technique.

by Deborah Gladstein

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