Ruth

I owe so much to Ruth Babler Englund. She was my dance teacher during my childhood and teen years, but that title alone - dance teacher - in no way conveys the impact she had on me.

Ruth started teaching dance lessons in the basement of her modest home in St. Cloud, Minnesota in 1953. While this was her business, I realized years later that what she did was also done at great sacrifice. Ruth’s approach was to give every little girl who wanted lessons the opportunity to take them, so she kept her prices low. As a result, in the 1970s Ruth had 700+ students each week who tromped through her garage, into her house, across the hallway, and down into her basement. Her classes started early in the afternoon for the pre-schoolers, ran through dinnertime, and ended at 9:00 or 9:30 each evening. Saturday classes ran all day. The music, the tap shoes, the children’s voices – the noise in the house must have been incessant. The youngest children arrived wearing their tap shoes, so the noise started even before they got up to the house.

Ruth’s approach to keeping dance affordable and accessible didn’t stop with the lessons. Costumes for the recitals were simple – often recycled from year to year. Gobs of pink tutus and other costume paraphernalia hung from the low ceiling in the laundry room and bathroom in her basement. If any of us were in a talent show at school, she willingly lent out music and costumes. She set up a used shoe exchange so that parents didn’t have to buy expensive new shoes, and even had pointe shoes shipped in and helped us find the ones that fit us. We paid for those, of course, but they weren’t available in St. Cloud and it would have been too hard for most of us to get them otherwise.

You would think that Ruth had enough of children, music, and noise and would want a break on Sunday, but instead she taught Sunday School to the children at Bethlehem Lutheran Church. It was the only time, other than recitals, that I saw her in something other than a black leotard, tights, ballet slippers, and her ever-present button-up sweater vest.

What Ruth added to my life is immeasurable. Truly. She helped me develop a talent that anchored me through my teen years and that gave me confidence to avoid some serious pitfalls. She gave me what I’ve considered to be the greatest gift I had with respect to dance – a love for it. That love for dance remains all these years later – even though I haven’t danced in a long time. She gave me my first career. I was one of her teachers in my teen years, and later ran my own small dance school in California. When I wrote and told her that I was following her model – keeping prices low and recitals inexpensive and simple – Ruth wrote back and gave me some advice. It was then that I caught a glimpse of the sacrifices she and her family made for all of her students through all those years.

I had the chance to visit with Ruth after I opened my dance school. She wanted to see what I was teaching and what I was learning in the classes I was taking. We went downstairs and I showed her some steps; she took copious notes so she could teach the steps to her students. I was flattered and proud, but mostly I was happy to give something back to her. When we finished, she wanted to pay me for that small amount of time and simply would not take no for an answer. She didn’t understand that I owed her far more than I could ever repay.

Ruth passed away in 1986 at the age of 61; however, I will never forget her. I'm in my 50s now, but I can still feel her influence. I think about the thousands of students she had through the years and I wonder how many others owe her much more than a thank you for some dance lessons. I certainly do.

(The St. Cloud School of Dance continues to operate under the direction of Ruth’s daughter, Sue.)