When a teacher starts teaching a new choreography, they rarely show the entire dance right away. For most of us, it would be too much at once. Instead, we learn in small sections, repeat them, and gradually put the pieces together.
How I approach it
When I study another choreographer’s work, I start by listening to the rhythm. Is it slow–quick–quick, or something else? Then I watch the feet: where is the weight, which foot begins? After that I focus on the torso, connecting it to the steps. Only at the end do I add the arms.
If the music touches me, I often hum along. It keeps the rhythm alive in my body and makes remembering easier.
At festivals, choreographies are sometimes taught at lightning speed. That can be stressful — and stressed brains don’t learn well. My trick? I smile. When I smile, my body believes everything is fine, and my mind relaxes. I may not suddenly learn faster, but at least I don’t slow myself down further.
Before smartphones
In the days before smartphones, we wrote choreographies down during breaks as best as we remembered. I used words; others drew stick figures dancing across the page. Strangely enough, it worked. The choreography stayed in memory more easily.
Today, of course, we can just record everything on video. It’s convenient, but I find it also makes me a little lazy. When I know I can always watch later, I don’t concentrate as deeply in the moment.
How choreographies have changed
Choreographies themselves have evolved. Dancers today are so skilled that choreographers challenge them with faster tempos, fewer repetitions, and twice as many movements as before. Egyptian choreographers are meeting this demand — which means focus and memory are more important than ever.
Focus on your own journey
Most importantly, focus on yourself. If someone in front of you makes mistakes, let it go. Don’t compare.
And when you practice, do the movements fully, not just marking them lightly. Big, intentional movements create stronger muscle memory. Each repetition plants the choreography deeper into your body — until one day it flows naturally, without effort.