I made a decision a long time ago not to go for the TCRG*. I studied for the exam all throughout college, under the direction of Carmel O’Rourke-Tighe, ADCRG, in Charlottesville, VA. Every few weeks, I taught a different céilí dance from the famous yellow Ár Rincí Fóirne to her students. I spent a summer quizzing myself daily on the 30 set dance tunes to see how quickly I could name them by ear. And I compiled a list of all the steps I had learned at various stages of my dancing career so that I could teach whatever level student was offered to me at my exam. In 2006, I was ready to pay my registration fee and take a trip to complete the days-long exam, infamously known for its 12% pass rate. I was well on my way and excited about it. But before I got a chance to take the exam, I was accepted to spend a year in Ireland at the University of Limerick (UL) for its MA in traditional Irish dance performance, delving even deeper into the tradition. I left that program feeling strongly that the TCRG was not for me.
I should start by saying that, although I am well aware of CLRG’s many problems, I don’t personally have an issue with the organization. I had a great experience with wonderful teachers. I’ve just chosen to distance myself over the years, and that’s mostly because I find it too limiting. My experience at UL showed me so many more aspects of Irish dance—the many styles that energize me to keep teaching and performing.
There is definitely a sense of hierarchy in the CLRG world, and spending too much time there will make you think that all other styles are inferior. I’ll admit that I struggle with this—not that I think other styles are inferior, but that I’ve given up something valuable if I’m not participating in that world. I still toy around with the idea of taking the TCRG exam, although I think that ship has long sailed. We didn’t have grade exams when I left CLRG over 20 years ago, and passing all 12 grades is a requirement before you even get to the TCRG exam. I’d essentially be starting from zero, something I don’t have much interest in doing (nor time or money). I fear that running a CLRG school (or, alternatively, a Comhdháil** school) would be all-absorbing and at odds with my philosophy on Irish dance. I would have to pay regular dues to an organization with questionable ethics; train my students mostly for competitive sport and commit my weekends to feiseanna; and participate in the politics of it (of which I am largely ignorant right now, thankfully). As an independent Irish dancer, I get to control the narrative and do things my way.
Still, there is that nagging thought, “Why not just take the TCRG exam? Why not just go ahead and add another certification to ol’ resume?” I think we are conditioned to believe that it is the holy grail of Irish dance, and it’s hard to shake. It’s funny to feel so committed to my decision not to take the exam, but also doubt myself so often, but I think the doubt mostly comes from ego. It would be another feather in my cap and a reason to be taken more seriously. I’ve been in situations where I am explicitly told that I am being paid less because I don’t have a TCRG, even when I’m not teaching CLRG style. In the CLRG world, a Master’s degree in Irish dance and 35+ years of continuous dedication to the art actually don’t mean anything. I think we all feel a need for acceptance, especially from the communities we grew up in.
Whenever I start to doubt myself, I think back to what choreographer and scholar Dr. Breandán de Gallaí said a few years ago in an interview with Richard Tew on Rince Radio, when asked why he doesn’t get his TCRG. He said, simply, “I’m not interested in teaching people to compete.” He’s dedicated his life to Irish dance: besides his important roles as a principal dancer and artistic director with Riverdance, he has a Master’s and PhD in Irish dance, directs the undergraduate and graduate Irish dance programs at University of Limerick, and founded and leads award-winning contemporary Irish dance company Ériu. There’s no question that he is making enormous contributions to the tradition as an innovative choreographer and researcher. He argued that there is simply no reason to get a TCRG if you aren’t interested in the competition world, and there are other avenues to be a successful leader in the Irish dance community. I was relieved to hear him say this with so much conviction, because so few do!
From where I’m standing, it seems that the best, healthiest route is to leave CLRG behind completely. For many Irish dancers, CLRG is the center of the world. It is the only thing. But I’ve been out of it for long enough that it exists on the sidelines, just another way to be an Irish dancer. It’s taken me years to get to this point. I’m happy for my CLRG friends to stay on that path, and I fully support them—CLRG shaped me, and I don’t regret any of my time committed to the organization. But I would love for it to become more mainstream for CLRG to be just one of many choices we have as Irish dancers.
Recently, my friend Carlye Cunniff posted her hot take on Instagram: “Just because you have a TCRG does not mean you’re qualified to teach Irish dance.” There was a notable response—both positive and negative—and she later clarified that the TCRG does not prepare you to run a business, scaffold dance curriculum, and, most importantly, keep your dancers safe, physically, mentally, and emotionally. I agree with this wholeheartedly, and I think this is true for a lot of dance teacher certifications, not just in Irish dance. But what resonated with me the most was the idea that the TCRG isn’t the end-all, be-all because the certification itself defines Irish dance in a way that I find far too limiting. Memorizing every céilí dance detail is cool, but how applicable is that knowledge once you get out of the exam? Understanding the dances of Ireland writ large has brought me incredible perspective and great appreciation for the people who have contributed to them, and most of this perspective and these people are completely absent in the CLRG world.
I know of a few individuals who have their TCRGs and manage to also stay rooted in less mainstream forms, like sean nós and céilí dance. I’ll have to ask them more about their experience. I wonder how hard it is to combine things—is there an opportunity to share sean nós with students focused on competition and teach them that it’s not just steps, but also a whole new approach to dancing in a loose, improvised way? It is painful to see “old style” steps danced in the highly stylized modern aesthetic, usually exaggerating the visual components of Irish dance at the expense of rhythm and musicality. Is there time to train both approaches? But, more importantly, is it possible to create the kind of participatory, inclusive community that sean nós requires, or the intergenerational community nature of the céilí, in the same spaces where competitive training takes place?
Teaching different styles of Irish dance takes an incredible amount of cultural sensitivity. I find myself wanting to highlight their connections while also respecting their boundaries, and I’m never quite sure if I’m doing it right. A few years ago, I co-wrote a book, Dancing in the World: Revealing Cultural Confluences, with my friend and colleague Sinclair Ogaga Emoghene, in which we lay out a framework for navigating power and privilege in mainstream and non-mainstream categories of dance cultures. We talked about the need to understand power dynamics not only between different dance cultures (e.g., Nigerian dance, Irish dance, ballet, American modern dance), but also within dance cultures. We suggested ideas for how to configure dance spaces for different philosophies, dance languages, and aesthetic systems so that each style is valued on its own terms.
Drawing on our theory of dance confluences, I think of the Irish dance world as an amorphous Venn diagram: CLRG overlaps with old style step dance, which overlaps with sean nós, which overlaps with céilí dancing, which comes back to CLRG, which feeds into the show style, which shares a ballet-inspired aesthetic with festival style, etc. These confluences constantly shift as people disagree about what belongs in what category or not, and which ones deserve resources or not. My work is focused on accepting the discomfort of sitting in the middle of it all and continuing to seek out knowledge to make the most informed choices for my program. I think a TCRG can easily blind you to thinking about Irish dance as a multifaceted, confluent space, and this is why I feel at peace with my choice not to pursue it.
* A TCRG is an acronym for Teagascóir Choimisiúin le Rincí Gaelacha, or “Certified Irish Dance Teacher.” It is an official, globally recognized teaching certification awarded by An Coimisiún le Rincí Gaelacha (CLRG), the world’s largest and oldest governing body for Irish dance.
** An Chomhdháil (fully known as Comhdháil na Múinteoirí le Rincí Gaelacha) is the second-largest global governing body for Irish step dance. It was founded in the early 1960s as an independent alternative to the CLRG. Still other competitive dance organizations exist as more groups splinter off from these mainstream ones.
