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By Sheila Orysiek
 SAN DIEGO—As I sat in the studio at City Ballet of San Diego on Wednesday, August 5, 2009, I couldn't help but think of The Adams-Jefferson Letters: The complete correspondence (Univ. of N.C. Press). I read this two volume set many years ago and it is among my most precious possessions.
As I recall in one letter John Adams bemoans the inadequacies of the oncoming generation doubting that they were acquiring the necessary education and skills necessary to keep safe the republic he and Jefferson had helped to create. His doubts represent the ubiquitous doubting of one generation about the next. Ironically, he, of course, was the father of the multi-talented John Quincy Adams.
On a warm summer evening, within an easy walk of San Diego's beautiful beaches, surrounded by hundreds of commercial establishments providing all that's dear to the youthful heart – surf shops, cafes, sidewalk restaurants, clothes (and unclothes – beachwear, etc.) - the sidewalks were crowded with people looking for a fun time. As I walked from my car to City Ballet's studio every once in a while I espied a young person – also hurrying along – but in a different direction; into a hole in the wall in a back alley and up a flight of stairs.
Once up those stairs the atmosphere was the antithesis of the streets below; here was a group of young people seeking structure, spending energy and endless dedication in pursuit of an artistic ideal. It gives one pause should one be tempted to question – as John Adams did – the capability of the next generation to carry on what was created long before they were born. The siren song of a centuries old dance form still is heard and is answered by another generation. It warms the heart and is solace for the soul.
Art and Judaism have much in common; ideal belief despite the chaos of the surrounding world. Both offer intangible benefits for which people dedicate both inner and outer resources. Both are accessed from one heart and hand to another heart and hand through generations of teachers.
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 Book learning is never sufficient; it has to occur within a community – a minyan. Perhaps that is why the Jewish people have always been so active in the arts.
On this particular evening Prima Ballerina Gelsey Kirkland (pictured at right) was teaching a master class to approximately 30-35 students who had gathered in respectful awe of the ballerina's world renown though most of them probably had not been born before she retired. Clad in dark pants, lighter shirt, unremarkable walker type shoes, she would have not have been noticed in any street crowd – until she moved with that particular grace and purpose of the classical ballerina. But her attire and her body language spoke the message that – despite her fame - the class was not about her; it was about the students. She didn't come to "perform" – she came to teach. That's what a good teacher does.
I enjoyed the way she described space. Kirkland drew a verbal picture and then illustrated physically – with head and arms – that the world opens before us in a triangle – we are the inner point. Space is further defined in three levels; an upper, middle, and lower – and all must be included. She also reminded the students that while we might look out into a triangle, we actually inhabit a circle. Though half of that circle is behind us, it cannot be ignored – we can even speak with our backs. This is also a basic moral concept; what we leave behind is as important as how we encounter what is front of us.
In countless other studios – in both the performing and fine arts – and in schools across the world – youngsters do come to learn from the faucet of what previous generations have learned and created. It gives one another view of the oncoming generation. They are not one dimensional as we were not. They will learn as we did. And, then, pass the treasure on.
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