After 40+ years of running dance school show or recital, you'd think I'd have it all mastered. And to be honest, these days, I don’t find show week all that stressful. It used to be full-on panic—late nights, last-minute chaos, and show-day meltdowns (mine included). But now, it really isn’t much more stressful than running my usual weekly classes. The key? Forward planning and preparation. It makes everything smoother, calmer, and actually enjoyable.
If you're a fellow dance teacher gearing up to run a school show, here are 10 things no one told me when I first started—and a few I still forget every now and then.
1. Someone will always forget something. Always.
I don't hand out costumes before the day—they all come with me, labelled and ready—but despite that, someone will inevitably forget their shoes, tights, or accessories. And although you’ll ask for neat buns, there’ll always be at least one dancer who turns up looking like they’ve just rolled out of bed and been licked into shape by a labrador.
I simply don’t have time to sort it all on the day, so I come prepared: spare bun nets, grips, hair gel, and a senior student or two who can style a bun better than I can. And remember—it’s not the child’s fault. You don’t know what’s happened at home that morning. Don’t get cross, don’t sweat the small stuff. It’s an easy fix.
2. Parents panic more than students
It’s understandable that parents will fuss—try to put yourself in their shoes. Wouldn’t you worry about your six-year-old being left backstage with chaperones you possibly don’t even know? I personally don’t allow parents backstage at all (unless they are an official chaperone). Parents say their goodbyes at the door and leave. It’s important that both parents and children know this policy well in advance. Just stay calm, reassure them that their child will be absolutely fine, and remind them you have their contact details and will get in touch if their little one doesn’t settle. A bit of empathy goes a long way.
3. Tech rehearsals never run smoothly
Let’s be honest: planning a children’s dance performance or recital is like herding glittery cats. Tech rehearsals rarely go to plan—and that’s okay. You’re not producing a West End show. Trust your tech crew, get your music tracks in a playlist in the correct order, and make sure fade-outs are sorted ahead of time if needed.
Save your tracks to two devices. Bring a speaker just in case. Make sure your dancers know what to do if the music stops or the lights glitch. Tech hiccups happen—what matters is staying calm and having a backup.
Label dressing rooms. Print stage and entrance lists for tech and backstage crew. The goal is smooth handoffs, not frantic chaos. Give your crew clear instructions in writing and skip the shouting—no one needs headset drama. Make notes during rehearsal and treat it like a checklist, not a crisis. It’s about catching the snags, not achieving perfection.
4. Backstage helpers are worth their weight in gold
Find calm, capable volunteers and treat them like royalty. Your sanity depends on them. My advice is email your notes to them in advance, give them the opportunity to clarify anything with you BEFORE show day then print off the notes and give them a copy when they arrive. - You just won't have time to explain everything to them on the day. However, make time to thank each of the personally. - It matters.
5. Someone will cry
It might be a toddler, a teen, a parent—or you. Emotions will run high, and that’s completely normal. So keep tissues handy, take a breath, and try to keep things in perspective.
You’re not staging Les Mis, you’re running a children’s dance school show or recital. No one’s getting reviewed by The Times. If you’ve done your homework and prepared properly, there’s really no reason it won’t go just fine.
And remember—parents are the most sympathetic audience in the world. They’ll laugh off the mistakes, cry at the cute bits, and applaud like it’s Swan Lake even if someone does the splits in the wrong direction.
It’s one of the rare times when imperfect is still perfect.
6. Your show order matters more than you think
Flow, costume changes, and energy levels all play a part. A badly planned running order creates chaos backstage and boredom in the audience. Think it through carefully and make sure there's enough time to change between each routine.
7. You’ll forget to eat
The adrenaline, the stress, the 500 moving parts—it’s easy to forget basic needs. Pack snacks and stay hydrated. Show week isn’t the time to experiment with intermittent fasting or pretend you can survive on adrenaline and a half-chewed Polo.
Your body will thank you later.
8. You won’t see most of the show
Unless you’re organised. Then you absolutely can—and should. I haven’t watched a show from the wings in over 30 years. I used to be a flapping liability, miming routines and tripping over props like a caffeinated panto extra. Thankfully, one of the dads (now my stage manager) gently banished me from backstage and the show ran smoother without me.
And here’s the part that might sound unthinkable: you do not have to be in the wings. Honestly. You don’t have to crouch there like a morally obligated meerkat, twitching at every blackout, convinced that the show will crumble without your presence. That’s not good leadership — that’s just poor delegation in sequins.
If you’ve prepped well, there’s no reason to hover like a clipboard-wielding gremlin. Let your team handle it. Sit in the audience. Trust the plan. You’ve earned it.
9. The Difficult Parent (There’s Always One)
There’s always one. The parent who questions everything, wants special treatment, and doesn’t get why they can’t pop backstage mid-show with a juice pouch and a pep talk.
Don’t take it personally—they’re just anxious. Stay calm. Stick to your rules. Repeat your policies with a smile. You’ve done the prep, and that’s what matters.
Not every loud voice needs a full explanation. You’re running a children’s dance show or recital, not managing a debate club. Keep it polite. Keep it brief. Move on.
10. You’ll do it again
Even if you swear blind you won’t. Even if you declare, loudly and dramatically, that this was the last one. You’ll do it again. Because despite the stress, the chaos, and the bun nets in your pocket weeks later, there’s nothing like it.
And one day—maybe not today—you’ll realise you wouldn’t change a thing. Except maybe the one kid who sneezed into their jazz hands mid-routine. But even that will be funny in about a week.
Got questions? I’m always happy to share what’s worked (and what hasn’t). Drop me a message or keep an eye on the Studio Wisdom Teacher blog for more tips coming soon.