Our company class stood quietly awaiting the new teacher. With so much else going on -rehearsals, performing, we really didn't need the stress of a new company teacher. Class was due to start at 9 a.m. It was now 8:50 a.m. Our studio looked out through huge windows to a busy city street.<P>8:55 a.m. and still no teacher. Then through the noise of the traffic we heard the roar of a Harley motorcycle. It drew up in front of the studio and a man clad entirely in black leather got off and came inside. In addition to his leather clothes, he wore heeled pointy toed boots with silver chains. He walked to the teacher's bench in the front of the room, chains jangling, bald head gleaming, helmet in one hand, a six pack of Coke (soft drink) in the other and a cigarette dangling from his lips. He was of medium height and very round shouldered - his head was down and he looked at no one. Surely this couldn't be - oh no - but it was - our new teacher. No, I won't give you his name.<P>He placed the soda six pack on the bench beside the helmet, and put a pack of cigarettes on top. We watched him jangle his way over to the barre. He motioned to the pianist and began without further ado to demonstrate a plie' combination. As his feet turned out into lst position, heeled boots and all, and he drew himself up, those round shoulders disappeared. The arms became graceful and balletic. He had changed before our eyes from a leather clad biker to a ballet dancer, hanging cigarette and all. <P>He was a wonderful teacher except for one thing - he did not end class by the time on the clock. As he declared - the very first thing he said to us - "class is over when the soda runs out."<P>Surely you have known a memorable teacher like that?

Ah, one of those moments that makes me say, "There's genuine artistry." A rara avis these days, I fear....