Hello!

It’s been difficult for me to put into words what taking this step means to me. Whether you’re here to sign up for a class or just checking in, I can’t begin to tell you what your visit means to me. So, thank you.

I’ll be honest. Over the last few months, I’ve felt a little bit of imposter syndrome. If you know anything about me, you know that leading the next generation of dancers is something I’m deeply passionate about.

Growing up in competitive dance, I had some incredible coaches. I also had some coaches who made me want to quit. And if you’re new to me, I’ll get this out of the way now: professionalism is one of my top priorities, but honesty ranks even higher. If something needs to be said, I’ll say it, and if I don’t, you’ll see it on my face. I can just hear my mom now, “Jenna, fix your face”.

Like many dancers, I experienced environments that were extremely high-pressure—where winning mattered more than growth, and where criticism sometimes replaced guidance. There were moments where anxiety and my own unattainable standards made me forget why I loved dance in the first place. It’s a strange realization when the thing that once gave you confidence and identity suddenly makes you question both.

Unfortunately, I don’t think those experiences will ever completely disappear, but they are exactly why I care so deeply about the role I play as a coach, teacher, and choreographer.

My goal has always been simple: To be the coach I needed when I was a young dancer.

That means building dancers’ confidence while still holding them to high expectations. It means pushing dancers to grow without tearing them down through constant criticism. It means recognizing the time, effort, and sacrifice dancers (and parents) put into their craft, and helping them learn how to balance the demanding schedules that come with loving this sport.

It also means teaching dancers to trust their own style and artistry instead of feeling like they have to conform to everyone else around them. Dance should challenge you, but it should also allow you to become more of yourself.

I believe communication between dancers, parents, and coaches should always be clear. I believe growth should always matter more than business. I believe dancers who want more opportunities to train should have access to them. And I believe a coach should be fully invested in the dancers they’re guiding.

And maybe most importantly, I don’t believe a competition score should ever define a dancer.

I never placed in the top 10 as a soloist. Not once. And I still believe I turned out to be a pretty good dancer. Actually— and this might come as a shocker to some— I think not receiving that first-place plastic trophy I wanted so badly actually made me a more well-rounded dancer and person in the long run. Because the truth is, the best dancers aren’t always the ones with the highest scores. They’re the ones who stay inspired, who keep working, who develop their own voice, and who never forget why they started dancing in the first place.

That’s the kind of dancer I hope to help build.