Body Awareness May Need To Be Taught

A teacher recently shared a concern with me that raises a much bigger question—one that deserves more than a quick answer.

So, I’m going to explore it over the next two newsletters.

This week, we’ll look at what might be happening when students seem unable to feel or use the corrections they are given.

Next week, I’ll share practical ways teachers can help students develop greater body awareness in class.

Here is what the teacher wrote:

“The biggest issue we’re facing is overall body awareness. Students just don’t understand or even ‘feel’ what we’re giving them. We’ve tried every variation of teaching methods to make it click, and most kids just don’t get it. I’ve taught for over 30 years, and the past five have been the hardest. Kids just aren’t aware.”

I suspect many teachers recognize this frustration.

You demonstrate the movement.

You explain it in a different way.

You use imagery, touch, mirrors, anatomy, repetition, and correction.

And still, the student looks at you as though they understand—but the movement does not change.

It is tempting to conclude that students simply do not have body awareness anymore.

But I think there may be a more useful question:

What if students are receiving the information, but having difficulty noticing, interpreting, or using it?

Body awareness is not one single ability.

It includes sensing where the body is in space, noticing pressure through the feet, recognizing unnecessary tension, interpreting touch, understanding internal sensations, and translating a correction into movement.

A student may be able to copy a shape visually but have little sense of how they created it.

Another may understand the correction intellectually but not yet have a sensory reference for what it should feel like.

It is also worth asking whether children’s everyday movement experiences have changed.

Climbing, balancing, hanging, falling, running over uneven ground, and inventing physical games all help children build a body map.

Some children may now have fewer opportunities for that kind of varied, self-directed exploration and more of their movement experiences may happen in structured settings.

That may not be the whole explanation, but it could mean some students arrive in class with fewer sensory experiences to draw from.

At the same time, they may also be bringing more stress into the studio.

Academic pressure, social comparison, overscheduling, lack of sleep, family concerns, and constant stimulation can all compete for attention.

When students feel rushed, evaluated, overwhelmed, or afraid of being wrong, their attention often shifts away from curiosity and toward protection.

Instead of asking:

“What do I notice?”

Their nervous system may be asking:

“Am I doing this right?”

Under pressure, students may rush, brace, hold their breath, copy the dancer next to them, or repeat the movement pattern they already know.

They may hear the correction without being able to integrate it.

This does not necessarily mean they are lazy, inattentive, or incapable of developing awareness.

It may mean the conditions are not yet allowing them to access it.

A student can also be very aware that something feels wrong without being able to identify what is happening or how to change it.

That distinction matters.

Body awareness is not simply having more sensation.

It is the ability to notice useful information, interpret it, and connect it to an action.

Perhaps awareness is not something we can assume students automatically bring into the studio.

Perhaps it is a skill we need to teach more deliberately.

Body awareness is not a personality trait that a dancer either has or lacks.

It is a sensory and attentional skill that can be developed.

Next week, I’ll share some practical ways teachers can help students become better at noticing, interpreting, and using the information coming from their bodies.

To your success,

Deborah