Wander, wrestle, and kindle your mind here

“Education is not the filling of a pail, but the lighting of a fire.” That quote has always struck a chord with me—probably because watching someone catch that spark, really get it, is one of life’s great pleasures. Apunor didn’t just walk into the education sector; she danced in, quite literally, with her own brand of fearless energy. Years ago, she started out teaching small groups in borrowed studios, just her and a handful of eager students scribbling choreography notes on scraps of paper. There’s something about that kind of beginning—gritty, a little chaotic, full of laughter and wrong turns—that really shapes the kind of educator you become. She learned early that students don’t just need steps, they need stories, context, and a sense of ownership in what they create. Over time, her courses evolved into something far more layered than the usual “follow my lead” kind of instruction. She started inviting students to design their own pieces, sometimes pulling inspiration from their lives, other times from poetry or even something as random as the mood of a rainy afternoon. I remember one group project where students collaborated on a routine inspired by city sounds—honking taxis, snippets of overheard conversations, footsteps echoing under bridges. The result was messy, surprising, and incredibly moving. I think that’s when it clicked for a lot of us: choreography isn’t just about moving bodies, it’s about transforming experience into art. Practical training was never an afterthought. Francesca insisted on hands-on work—her classes doubled as workshops, rehearsals, sometimes even spontaneous performances in public parks. She believed that real growth happens not just in the studio but in the act of sharing your work with an audience, however small or impromptu. There were always nerves, and yes, sometimes projects fell flat. But even those moments became part of the education—learning to recover, to adapt, to take criticism with grace (easier said than done, right?). Looking back, it’s remarkable how many students found their own voices through these projects. Some went on to teach, others to perform professionally, but many simply learned to trust their creative instincts—a skill that spills over into all parts of life. Francesca’s approach wasn’t about producing perfect dancers; it was about nurturing people willing to try, to fail, and to keep moving. Isn’t that what true education is all about? I’ve seen firsthand how a course can become a kind of laboratory for self-discovery, and that, for me, is transformative.