Casting Is Complicated: What I Wish More Young Dancers and Parents Understood About Auditions, Roles and Rejection

Sorry, this one is long.
Apparently, I learned the hard way that putting up a cast list in the middle of the week is a terrible idea when you still have to see everyone the next day. Lesson learned. 
But after a week of conversations, questions, disappointment, excitement, and everything in between, I realized there are some things about casting that I think are worth talking about, not just for our dancers, but for their parents too.
So, here we go.

Casting Is Complicated: What I Wish More Young Dancers and Parents Understood About Auditions, Roles and Rejection
I once got cut from an audition for a job I got.
If that sentence doesn't make sense to you, welcome to casting. Casting is one of the most exciting parts of being a performing artist. It can also be one of the most confusing, frustrating and disappointing.
You audition. You wait. You imagine yourself in certain roles. Then the cast list goes up.
Sometimes you're thrilled. Sometimes you're surprised. And sometimes you're disappointed. That disappointment is real. Dancers should be allowed to feel it.
But learning how to handle casting decisions, especially the ones you don't understand, is also part of learning how to become a performing artist.
Because one of the biggest misconceptions about casting is that it is simply a ranking of dancers from "best" to "worst." It isn't. And an audition is only one piece of the process.
One of My First Professional AuditionsOne of my first professional auditions was for a local theme park here in Texas.
I was young and relatively new to the professional audition world. I was fortunate enough to have some connections in the room, although to this day I have no idea whether that ultimately made any difference.
There were probably 60 women standing in the room when the audition began.
Before we danced a single step, they started calling numbers. Those dancers were dismissed. That was it.
To this day, I couldn't tell you why.
Maybe someone wasn't the look they needed. Maybe someone was too tall or too short. Maybe it was costuming. Maybe they recognized someone they had worked with before. Maybe someone's reputation preceded them. Maybe a dancer simply didn't fit whatever the creative team had already envisioned.
I genuinely don't know. And neither did the dancers walking out of the room.
Those of us remaining learned a short, 32-count combination that included a jump and a turning sequence. We performed it, they called more numbers, and roughly another ten dancers were released.
Then we learned another combination. This one was more stylized, with additional movement and some popping.
That's when they called my number.
I was cut.
Nobody pulled me aside to explain what I had done wrong. Nobody told me why someone else was continuing and I wasn't. There was no opportunity to discuss whether I agreed with their decision.
I picked up my things and left.
And the next several professional auditions I attended went pretty much the same way.
Until one didn't.
The Audition I "Lost" and the Job I GotEventually, I auditioned for another professional production. I made it through the first round. Then, in the second round, they released me.
Once again, I picked up my things and walked out believing I had lost the job.
Except I hadn't.
They hired me.
Apparently, they had seen what they needed to see. They knew enough about me to know they wanted to work with me. Being released from the audition didn't mean what I assumed it meant at all.
That experience has stayed with me throughout my career because it taught me something I understand even better now that I sit on the other side of the table:
The dancer almost never has all of the information.
I interpreted being released as rejection.
The people behind the table were making an entirely different decision.
Auditioning Is Part of the ProfessionMy own professional audition experience was primarily here in Texas, and I don't pretend that my experience represents every corner of the professional dance world.
I have friends and colleagues who pursued careers in New York, Los Angeles and overseas. Some went to hundreds of auditions over the course of their careers. During particularly busy audition periods, they might attend three or four in a single day.
And many followed a remarkably similar format.
Walk in. Get a number. Stand in a line.
Sometimes there is a cut before anyone dances.
Learn a combination. Dance it in groups. Another cut.
Learn another combination. Another cut.
Maybe you're asked to stay for something else.
Maybe you're not.
Then you collect your things and head to the next audition.
Often there is no feedback. No explanation. No conversation about why someone else stayed and you didn't.
That is an important reality for young dancers who think they may want to pursue performing professionally:
Auditioning isn't something you endure until you finally become a professional. Auditioning is part of being a professional.
And so is rejection.
A professional dancer can be extraordinarily talented, beautifully trained and completely right for one production, and be released in the first round of the next audition.
Sometimes you are exactly what they are looking for.
Sometimes you aren't.
And sometimes, as I learned, you may not even correctly understand what just happened in the room.
Casting Is Not GradingThis is where I think many young dancers, and sometimes the adults who love them, get stuck.
Casting is not a test.
There isn't necessarily a point system where technique is worth 20 points, stage presence is worth 15, attendance is worth 10, and whoever finishes with the highest score gets the biggest role. A cast list is not a leaderboard.
The dancer with the featured role isn't necessarily the "best" dancer in the production.
A dancer with three roles isn't automatically better than a dancer with two.
Someone standing in the front isn't necessarily more talented than someone standing behind them.
Because the director isn't simply asking:
Who is the best dancer?
The director is asking:
How do I build the strongest production?
Those are very different questions.
The Professional World Can Be UncomfortableThere is another reality of the entertainment industry that dancers need to understand.
The entertainment industry remains one of the last industries where discrimination based on someone's "look" is openly part of the process.
Someone can be too tall.
Too short.
Too young-looking.
Too old-looking.
They may not physically match a performer who has already been cast. They may not fit an existing costume. They may not match the director's visual concept for a character. They may simply not be the "type" being sought.
And they can be an absolutely phenomenal performer while all of those things are true.
That's another reason dancers can drive themselves crazy trying to reverse-engineer casting decisions.
You simply don't know everything happening behind the table.
But That's Not How I CastI want to make an important distinction here because the professional reality I just described is not necessarily my personal casting philosophy.
"Look" is very low on my list of concerns when I cast an Alamo City Arts production.
Honestly, I'm not particularly worried about whether a costume currently fits you. I am incredibly fortunate to have the resources, creativity and ability around me to make costumes work.
We'll alter it. We'll build it. We'll find another one. We'll figure it out.
I would much rather solve a costume problem than pass over the right dancer because of a zipper.
There are other things I care about much more.
So What Do I Look For?There is no mathematical formula, and no single factor guarantees anyone a role. Different productions and different characters require different things.
But when I am casting, these are some of the things I am considering:

• Did you actually attend the audition?
• Technical ability
• Are you currently training consistently?
• How is class attendance and punctuality?
• Stage presence
• Maturity
• Professionalism
• Attitude
• Work ethic
• How you receive and apply corrections
• How quickly you learn and retain choreography
• Availability for the rehearsal and performance schedule
• Reliability
• Partnering considerations
• Company membership and commitment
• Whether you consistently follow expectations, including uniform requirements
• How you work with other dancers
• How you (and your family) interact with the production, staff and other participants
• The needs of the particular role
• The needs of the production as a whole

None of those exists in isolation, and they aren't weighted equally for every role.
But there are a few that deserve a little more explanation.
Training MattersWhen I say I look at current training, I want to be very clear about what I mean.
I don't necessarily mean training at Alamo City Arts.
I mean training. If you want to be considered for increasingly demanding roles, you need to be consistently taking class somewhere.
Dance technique isn't something you acquire and then permanently possess. It has to be maintained and developed.
Even our professional principal dancers train every day.
They take class.
They work on their bodies.
They maintain their technique.
They continue learning.
Professional dancers understand perhaps better than anyone that the more advanced you become, the more important consistent training becomes.
So when a dancer wants to be considered for a technically demanding or featured role but isn't currently taking class regularly anywhere, that matters to me.
It doesn't mean you have to train exclusively with us. We have dancers who receive training in different places and different environments, and I respect that.
But I cannot ignore the difference between someone actively working on their craft and someone who only wants to dance when there is a production or a particular role they want.
Performance is not a substitute for training.
Attitude Matters — A LotTalent is wonderful.
Technique can be developed.
Costumes can be altered.
Choreography can sometimes be adjusted.
But I cannot want an opportunity more for a dancer than they want it for themselves.
I pay attention to how dancers enter the room. I notice how they respond to corrections. I notice whether they roll their eyes when they don't like an assignment. I notice whether they support other dancers. I notice whether they are respectful to faculty, staff and their peers.
I notice how they behave when they aren't in the front.
I notice how they behave when they aren't getting attention.
And I absolutely notice how they behave when they don't get what they wanted.
Because eventually I have to answer a very practical question:
Do I want to spend the next three months in a rehearsal room with this person?
More importantly:
Can I trust this person to contribute positively to the production I am responsible for creating?
That matters.
A lot.
And Yes, Family Behavior Can Matter TooThis may be uncomfortable to hear, but particularly when we are working with children and teenagers, the dancer isn't the only person we have a working relationship with.
We are working with their family too.
There is a reason Dance Moms made entertaining television, and there is a reason the "stage mom" stereotype existed long before reality television.
In real life, however, that kind of behavior isn't entertaining when you're trying to produce a show.
A parent or family member who repeatedly creates conflict, disparages other dancers, gossips about casting, challenges artistic decisions in inappropriate settings, ignores communication procedures, disregards boundaries, creates problems for staff, or encourages their dancer to view every casting decision as a competition with someone else can have a very real effect on a production.
And yes, I take that into consideration.
Not because I believe a child should be punished for having a difficult parent.
But because casting someone in a significant role means making a commitment to that dancer and, when the dancer is a minor, to working closely with the adults responsible for them.
The larger the role, the greater that commitment becomes.
More rehearsals. More communication. More scheduling. More responsibility. More opportunities for something to go wrong if the working relationship is already unhealthy.
Casting is partly about trust.
Can I trust the dancer to be there?
Can I trust them to be prepared?
Can I trust them to handle the responsibility?
And, when necessary, can I trust the adults responsible for that dancer to support the rehearsal process rather than undermine it?
Those are legitimate considerations when I am responsible for an entire production and everyone participating in it.
That doesn't mean parents have to agree with every decision I make.
They won't.
It doesn't mean dancers or families can't ask questions.
They can.
It doesn't mean disappointment isn't allowed.
It absolutely is.
But there is an enormous difference between disappointment and disruption.
A dancer's technical ability may get my attention.
Their work ethic, attitude and reliability may earn my trust.
And when I am casting significant responsibilities, trust matters just as much as talent.
Your Audition Started Before Audition DayWhen dancers hear the word audition, they naturally think about what happens during those few hours.
Did I nail the combination?
Did I fall out of my turn?
Did the director see me?
Did I perform well?
Of course those things matter.
But when I already work with a dancer regularly, the audition has actually been happening for months.
I know how you take class.
I know whether you arrive on time.
I know whether you attend consistently.
I know whether you come prepared.
I know whether you wear the required uniform.
I know whether you learn quickly.
I know whether you retain corrections from one week to the next.
I know how you respond when something is difficult.
I know how you treat the dancers around you.
I know whether you can be trusted to show up when the production needs you.
An extraordinary few minutes in an audition cannot necessarily erase months of inconsistent training, poor attendance or a bad attitude.
Likewise, one imperfect audition does not necessarily erase months of excellent work.
The audition gives me information. Your body of work gives me context.
Company Commitment MattersIn an organization with a resident dance company, Company membership also matters.
That isn't something I try to hide.
Company dancers have made an additional commitment to their training, the organization and the production season. They take additional classes and rehearsals and accept additional expectations regarding attendance, punctuality, uniform, professionalism and performance responsibilities.
With that commitment comes additional opportunity.
That does not mean a Company dancer is automatically entitled to a particular role.
It means commitment is one of the many things I consider.
And yes, actually attending the audition matters too.
An audition isn't merely an opportunity for me to see what you can do.
Showing up communicates something about how seriously you take the opportunity.
A Production Is Not a RecitalThis brings me to something else I think is important to understand about Alamo City Arts.
I am fully aware that The Nutcracker and many of our other mainstage performances are semi-professional productions.
We have students and developing dancers sharing the stage with experienced and professional artists.
That is absolutely intentional.
We have professional dancers in our productions, and we will continue to have professional dancers in our productions because I believe there is tremendous value in a training dancer getting to work side-by-side with a professional.
You learn differently when the person standing next to you has done this professionally.
You see how they warm up.
How they prepare.
How they learn choreography.
How they take corrections.
How they communicate with a choreographer.
How they behave backstage.
How they recover from mistakes.
How they perform when they're tired.
How they treat the work.
Those are lessons I cannot completely recreate in a classroom.
And having professionals in the room raises the standard for everyone.
Because ultimately, I want to put productions onstage that make us proud.
That means casting must serve the production.
There is an important difference between a recital and a production.
A recital is primarily designed to showcase students and what they have learned. There is absolutely a place for that, and recitals can be wonderful.
But that isn't what we are creating with The Nutcracker and our other mainstage productions.
We are creating something for an audience.
We are telling a story.
We are building characters.
We are creating an artistic experience.
We are selling tickets and asking people to spend an afternoon or evening with us.
We owe them the strongest production we can create.
This Is Not Pay-to-PlayThat philosophy also means something else:
Our productions are not pay-to-play, and they never will be.
A production fee does not purchase a particular role.
Tuition does not purchase a featured part.
Longevity does not guarantee a promotion.
Being older doesn't automatically put you ahead of someone younger.
Being younger doesn't mean you are owed an opportunity for the sake of experience.
Opportunity is important. Developing young artists is central to what we do.
Sometimes we deliberately give a developing dancer an opportunity because we believe they are ready to grow into it.
But opportunity and entitlement are not the same thing.
If what a dancer or family is looking for is an experience where participation guarantees equal stage time or everyone is showcased equally, there are programs specifically designed to provide that experience.
Alamo City Arts is not one of them.
Anybody can participate in a recital.
What we are trying to provide is something different: the opportunity for a developing artist to participate in a real production process, work alongside professionals, experience expectations beyond the classroom and earn increasingly significant opportunities as they grow.
That includes experiencing disappointment.
"But I Could Do That Role"You might be right.
This is another difficult reality of casting.
There are frequently several dancers capable of performing the same role.
That doesn't mean there are several roles available.
This is where disappointment can turn into comparison:
Why did she get it?
I'm technically better.
I'm older.
I've been here longer.
I did that role last year.
I can do everything that role requires.
Maybe you can.
But you're evaluating one role.
The artistic staff is evaluating an entire production.
A director isn't casting 80 individual dancers.
A director is casting one production using 80 dancers.
Every decision affects another decision.
Sometimes the strongest dancer is needed somewhere else.
Sometimes a younger dancer is ready for an opportunity.
Sometimes an older dancer brings the maturity a character requires.
Sometimes two dancers work beautifully together.
Sometimes someone possesses exactly the stage presence a role needs.
Sometimes a choreographer sees something in a dancer that the dancer hasn't discovered yet.
And sometimes there is no explanation that will make the disappointed person feel better.
A Director Does Not Owe Everyone an ExplanationI am sharing all of this because I believe understanding casting can help developing artists.
I am not sharing it because I believe a director owes every person who auditions a detailed explanation of every casting decision.
They don't.
A director has been entrusted with an artistic responsibility. Their obligation is to the production and to the organization or producer who hired them to create it.
Casting is not a test that requires the director to show their work.
That doesn't mean directors are above accountability.
Directors should behave professionally. They should follow the policies and ethical standards of their organizations. They should make decisions they are prepared to stand behind.
But accountability is not the same thing as requiring a director to litigate every artistic decision with every person who auditioned.
And there is a very important distinction between asking:
"What can I work on?"
and asking:
"Why did she get that role instead of me?"
I can have a productive conversation about the first question.
The second asks me to discuss another dancer's casting, training, strengths or circumstances.
That's not a conversation I need to have.
What You Do After Casting MattersThere is one more thing dancers sometimes don't realize:
Your reaction to this casting decision becomes part of your next audition.
I notice the dancer who receives a small role and treats it like the most important role in the production.
I notice the dancer who learns everyone's choreography.
I notice the understudy who is always prepared.
I notice the dancer who genuinely congratulates the person who received the role they wanted.
I notice the dancer who takes a correction without an excuse.
I notice the dancer who grows tremendously over the rehearsal process.
And yes, I notice the opposite.
Professionalism isn't something dancers suddenly acquire when someone starts paying them.
It is something they practice while they're training.
Handling disappointment is part of that training.
You Are Allowed to Be DisappointedNone of this means dancers aren't allowed to have feelings.
Of course you are.
Go home.
Be disappointed.
Cry if you need to.
Talk to someone you trust.
You wanted something and didn't get it. You're allowed to be sad about that.
Then decide what you're going to do with it.
There is an enormous difference between:
"I'm disappointed because I really wanted that role. What can I work on?"
and:
"I didn't get the role I wanted, therefore the casting is unfair."
The first response creates an opportunity for growth.
The second usually ends it.
Sometimes the Role You Didn't Want Is the Role You NeededOne of the great joys of directing is watching dancers discover themselves in roles they never would have chosen.
Not every opportunity looks impressive on a cast list.
Some roles teach musicality.
Some teach acting.
Some teach partnering.
Some teach stamina.
Some teach leadership.
Some teach humility.
Some teach what it means to become part of an ensemble instead of always trying to stand apart from it.
And occasionally, the role a dancer initially considers "small" becomes the role audiences remember.
Give yourself the opportunity to discover what the role actually is before deciding what it is worth.
Learning How to Be an AuditionerUltimately, I don't think our responsibility is simply to teach young artists how to audition well.
We need to teach them how to be auditioners.
How to walk into a room prepared.
How to take direction.
How to perform without knowing exactly what someone is looking for.
How to hear "yes" without becoming entitled.
How to hear "no" without deciding you're a failure.
How to watch someone else receive an opportunity you wanted and still be a good colleague.
How to take the role you were given and make something extraordinary out of it.
How to pick up your dance bag after disappointment and walk into another studio tomorrow.
I know what that feels like.
I've carried my own dance bag out of an audition after hearing my number called.
I've wondered what I did wrong.
I've been cut.
I've been rejected.
I've even been cut from an audition for a job I actually got.
And now, many years later, I've spent a great deal of time sitting on the other side of the table.
If those experiences have taught me anything, it is this:
You will not always understand casting.
You aren't supposed to.
Your responsibility as an artist isn't to understand every decision someone else makes.
Your responsibility is to keep working.
Show up. Take class. Be on time. Be prepared. Take the correction. Treat people well.
Do the role you were given exceptionally well. Support the artists around you.
Keep improving.
And remember:
Your next audition doesn't begin when someone pins a number to your leotard.
It has already started.