(This article is a chapter from the biography Ballerina of the People published in 2006. In it, Lisa Macuja-Elizalde shares her memories of her first ballet teacher Mrs. Felicitas “Tita” Radaic who instilled in her an enduring love for dance and an understanding of the hard work it would entail. On June 25, as a tribute to her first dance mentor, Macuja-Elizalde and her company Ballet Manila will stage the romantic ballet Giselle, at the Tanghalang Nicanor Abelardo of the Cultural Center of the Philippines, with the special participation of Ballet Philippines and Philippine Ballet Theater. Taking on the lead role is Ballet Manila’s Joan Emery Sia who is also a former student of Mrs. Radaic. Giselle is one of the highlights of the ongoing Dance MNL: The Philippine Dance Festival.)
By Lisa Macuja-Elizalde
My very first ballet steps were taken under the expert guidance of Mrs. Felicitas L. Radaic, directress of the St. Theresa’s College School of Dance and one of the founders of Dance Theatre Philippines. Up to now, I cannot bring myself to call her “Tita” as all her friends and associates address her, for she will always be “Mrs. Radaic” to me.
Aside from teaching me my basic ballet technique, Mrs. Radaic instilled in me an immense sense of discipline, a deep respect for hard work and an almost self-punishing tendency to push myself to improve. Looking back, I still find it both embarrassing and amusing how often I got reprimanded for my boisterous ways as a child. People may find it hard to believe now but I was forever the ringleader of rambunctious deeds not appropriate of little girls studying ballet – like hanging upside down from the barre or starting a tiring game of cops and robbers right before class.
In short, I was the headache of my teacher.
In my grade level, I was known as the “girl with the elastic body.” In truth, flexibility can be both an asset and a liability in ballet. Having a “loose” or “soft” stomach, as well as wobbly joints, created control problems for me that my other classmates did not encounter. Many times, Mrs. Radaic would bring my attention to my limp middle section by implying that I would probably be better off in hula class.
The time and effort exerted by Mrs. Radaic to train me eventually paid off. I found myself performing onstage more and more, proudly making it to the junior ranks of Dance Theatre Philippines, the semi-professional performing company made up of her best students from different schools.
True to her fastidious nature, Mrs. Radaic kept a vigilant eye on my early years as a fledgling ballerina, seeing me through five Royal Academy of Dancing (RAD) syllabus examinations in the ten years that I was under her school. We also toured internationally together with DTP twice: to the Aberdeen Festival in Scotland in 1979 and to the Festival of Asian Arts in Hong Kong in 1980.
Mrs. Radaic was a stickler for self-control and consistency. Whenever her more serious dancers craved for vacations or shorter rehearsal hours so that we could catch up on our social life, she was always quick to remind us that for “every day of ballet practice you miss, you have to work for two days just to make up for the lost strength.”
Another unforgettable aide memoire is something she repeated from Dame Margot Fonteyn: “When a dancer misses a day of practice, she notices it. After she misses two days of practice, her partner notices it. But when she misses three days in a row, the audience notices it.” I still remember her voice ringing through the rehearsal halls, goading us endlessly – “Stretch! Hagod! Hagod! (Breathe deeper!)” Thanks to her firmness as a pedagogue, I was not a stranger to long hours of rigorous training and this served me well in Leningrad.
Like most young girls who looked up to their teacher, we all longed for Mrs. Radaic’s compliment, or at the very least, her approval. This she did only with much prudence and consideration, which made her remarks even more significant to her students. One inspiring moment that I will treasure for the rest of my life happened the day after one particular performance at DTP’s Ballet at the Park series, where I had been cast as one of the four ballerinas in the DTP staple, Pas de Quatre.
Very much the “eager beaver,” my over-enthusiasm became my undoing. Going into my solo, which begins with a pose to arabesque (a position where the dancer stands on one leg while the other is fully stretched at the back), I ended up executing a perfect swan dive – to the floor! Landing in a heap of tulle, with arms and legs sticking out in a very unflattering manner, I got up with seeming calm and continued to dance. But as soon as I made my exit, I bawled like a child right there at the wings. Providentially, Mrs. Radaic was there to hush my tears and push me back onstage for my next entrance.
The card she sent me the next day touched my young life with unimaginable magnitude. Mrs. Radaic wrote that getting up from a spill and continuing to dance is the mark of a true professional. “You will become a true ballerina one day!” she wrote in her parting statement and through the tears that welled up in my eyes, I realized even more how much I wanted her words to come true.