Dancing in the Age of Instant Gratification

Lately I’ve been noticing how much harder it seems for young dancers to practise outside the studio. Past generations of dancers weren’t perfect but there was a consistency to practice that feels less common now.

Psychologist Jonathan Haidt talks about the rise of the “phone-based childhood”. Kids now grow up with screens in their hands and it’s changing the way they learn, how they interact with the world, and even how they show up in places like the dance studio.

We’re living in a world of instant everything—quick taps, fast swipes, instant likes. Our kids are getting constant hits of dopamine all day long just by picking up their devices. Their brains are being trained to expect instant feedback and when it doesn’t come quickly, the motivation doesn’t seem to be there.

Progress moves slowly. It’s built on repetition, mistakes, getting it wrong and trying again. There are no shortcuts—just slow, steady work. And somewhere in that process, there’s joy too. The quiet satisfaction of a routine improving, or exam work becoming more polished. It’s an experience many young dancers are missing out on and that’s a real loss.

And then there’s real life. Parents are busier than ever. Between work, school runs, and the constant juggle of family life, it’s easy for practice to slip off the radar. But here’s the honest truth: if you don’t see or hear your child practising… they probably aren’t. And with the cost of dance being what it is these days—costumes, classes, comps—it seems wild that the one thing that doesn’t cost a cent is the part that gets overlooked the most.

In a world where their brains are being rewired for speed and instant rewards, learning to slow down and stay with something hard is more valuable than ever.

With an endless stream of videos just a tap away, I sometimes wonder if it’s all become too much. Kids can spend hours watching dance content without ever leaving the couch. It creates the illusion of participation—like they’ve danced too.

Practice is where so much of the magic happens. It’s where dancers get to work on themselves—to focus, to explore, to repeat something until it feels better on their own body. There’s something incredibly satisfying about that kind of effort. It doesn’t take hours. Just ten mindful minutes, a few times a week, can shift everything.

The good news is, in a world built for instant gratification, we can make practice feel more rewarding. Something as simple as setting a weekly rehearsal time gives structure and purpose. Learning to find joy in repetition is a skill that will serve them far beyond the studio.

Practice doesn’t give you fireworks straight away. But over time, it builds patience, grit, confidence, and a quiet pride that no quick dopamine hit could ever replace. And that’s the kind of reward that truly transforms a dancer.

Maybe part of our job as teachers, parents, and mentors is to help them fall in love with the long game. In a world where apps are vying for their attention, it’s on us to remind them: some things take time and the most meaningful progress doesn’t come with a quick dopamine hit.