Sarah Schaefer began her career as a professional ballet dancer, training in Stuttgart and Munich before joining leading ballet companies in Europe. During the COVID-19 lockdown, Sarah made a bold pivot—enrolling in a part-time, online degree in social work and pedagogy while continuing to dance.
After completing her degree in just three and a half years, she transitioned into a new role as a kindergarten teacher with a focus on child protection and pedagogical development. Sarah is passionate about creating safe, supportive environments for children and hopes to expand into areas like women’s advocacy and abuse prevention.
She has also found renewed joy in ballet through teaching, reconnecting with the art form on her own terms. Her journey highlights the resilience and transferable skills of artists, as well as the power of redefining success through purpose-driven work.
Sarah Schaefer: I studied social work and social pedagogic, starting during COVID. During lockdown, being at home made me rethink my future. If something like that ever happened again, I didn’t want to feel as disconnected. In our industry, culture wasn’t seen as “system-relevant,” and we were among the first to shut down. This led me to reflect on what I wanted from a second career—something essential and not easily replaced by digitalization. I also wanted to stay active, work with people, and engage in something intellectually stimulating. Social work seemed like the perfect fit because it requires ongoing learning, adapting to changing systems, and finding personalized solutions for clients.
The moment I decided to leave my career in ballet was driven by growing frustration and unhappiness. Despite all my efforts, I felt stuck. I’d work tirelessly, but results didn’t always follow. For example, after a stage rehearsal that seemed successful and received positive feedback from colleagues, I was abruptly removed from the cast not understanding the reason. This kind of unpredictability and lack of transparency was exhausting.
It was disheartening to see decisions made without communication at eye level. Compared to the structures in my new job the environment often felt hierarchical. I often felt replaceable, as if my individual artistry didn’t matter. One particular instance solidified my decision: I was replaced by someone the choreographer supposedly chose, even though it was clear they had never seen this person perform. That was the breaking point. I realized I’d had enough of the lack of respect for my efforts.
COVID gave me the time and opportunity to pursue my degree. Although I didn’t have to quit ballet immediately, I chose to because I had my bachelor’s degree and couldn’t continue enduring that treatment. The transition was challenging. The first six months were especially tough, filled with uncertainty and self-doubt. I remember my first day working as a social pedagogue—I didn’t know anyone, had no idea what to expect, and felt out of place. But I had signed the contract and decided to trust the process.
Sarah: The program I pursued to become a qualified social worker was entirely online and part-time, offered by a German university. It was highly flexible, allowing students to choose the duration of their studies—three, four, or five years—and schedule exams at their convenience, even in the middle of the night. I opted for a four-year model but completed it in three and a half years, as the flexibility allowed me to adjust my pace. This setup was ideal for balancing my career in ballet. I often studied and wrote assignments backstage during long rehearsals or downtime, making the process surprisingly efficient. For example, I wrote parts of my bachelor thesis during breaks between performances of Swan Lake and often scheduled exams on Sunday mornings.
Examinations were conducted entirely online, often monitored by a proctor. Some involved filling out tests, while others required writing assignments, preparing projects, or defending my bachelor thesis via Zoom. The program also allowed me to study in German, which was my preference, and provided a range of subjects to choose from, making it an excellent fit for my needs.
Initially, studying was challenging. Without direct guidance, I had to teach myself how to conduct research and write scientifically. Starting an assignment often took hours of preparation as I figured out the process on my own. However, over time, I became proficient in researching and developed a clear structure for success. This predictability was a stark contrast to my experience in ballet.
In ballet, even after dedicating my entire life to the art, success felt elusive. There was no clear formula for securing leading roles—it often depended on subjective factors like luck, being the “right type,” or fitting into a specific choreographer’s style. By contrast, studying offered a sense of control. I knew that if I followed the right steps and put in the effort, I could achieve good results. This structured approach was deeply satisfying and gave me a sense of accomplishment I hadn’t experienced in my previous career.
While both ballet and studying were difficult in their own ways, the predictability of studying made the transition fulfilling. It was refreshing to work within a system where hard work directly led to success, rather than relying on external factors beyond my control.
Stay open to change and be patient with yourself as you adjust. It will take time to establish a new routine, and the process can be tiring, but trust that it will come together.
Sarah: Of course, with studying, there’s a structure. I knew exactly what to do to succeed—whether it was writing a thesis, preparing an assignment, or studying for an exam. I understood how to achieve a good grade, and that clarity was reassuring. Ballet, on the other hand, has been my entire life, yet I still don’t know the exact formula for getting a main role. That’s the challenge—it’s so difficult to succeed because so much depends on factors beyond your control.
It’s not just about talent; it’s about luck, being liked, fitting into a specific style, or being the right “type.” In studying, I eventually figured out my method, my “recipe” for success. In ballet, there isn’t one. Even for highly skilled dancers, there’s no clear path that guarantees you’ll be cast in the lead role. That unpredictability made studying a much more enjoyable experience because it offered a level of control and certainty that ballet never did.
Reflecting on my time as a dancer, I can now look back and appreciate the beautiful moments I had on stage. I’m proud of my career and feel it was fulfilling in its way. I’d be happy to perform on stage again, but I don’t feel the need to. I think of it as a wonderful chapter in my life, but I also hear about ongoing frustrations from friends and colleagues still in the industry, and it reminds me why I moved on. Those stories still frustrate and anger me, and I know I don’t want to be part of that environment anymore.
Now, I enjoy supporting my former colleagues by watching performances and attending premieres as an audience member. It’s refreshing to experience the artistry without being part of the process or the accompanying drama. Dancers often ask for my opinion, saying things like, “This part is boring,” or “The other cast was much better.” I remind them that sometimes it feels boring because they’ve spent five hours a day rehearsing it. As an audience member, I can see the beauty in it. It’s nice to watch a performance with fresh eyes and appreciate it for what it is.
I still love being around the theater and the people, and my heart is definitely still connected to ballet. In fact, I think I enjoy ballet even more now. Teaching has become a source of joy for me, and I find so much fulfillment in it. Stepping away from performing has given me a clearer perspective and allowed me to reconnect with the art form in a way that feels truly rewarding.
Sarah: Since starting in January 2024, I feel like I’ve found my place in the team. I’ve made friends, and I’ve learned the basics of the job. My ballet background has been incredibly helpful because it trained me to observe and replicate others’ actions quickly. Even my boss commented on how fast I learn, saying, “You have eyes everywhere.” I laughed and thought, “Of course, I’ve been in the corps de ballet, I’ve had to watch everything at all times.”
From day one, I watched what others were doing and tried to copy their methods. I also did a lot of homework, often more than required, to prepare for the next day. While this was challenging at first, it’s gotten much better over time. However, I’m always learning because social work is such a broad field. The study program provided some foundational knowledge, like children’s rights, legal frameworks, and other basics, but it can’t fully prepare you for the diversity of situations you’ll encounter in the field. Social work covers such a wide range of areas, from working with homeless people and individuals with addictions to supporting children, disabled people, or school communities. The real learning happens on the job.
For my bachelor thesis, I specialized in child safety and protection in schools, which I continue to focus on in my current role. I’m currently working on creating a concept to improve child protection within our organization. I’m also preparing a talk for teachers to help them recognize and address potential issues their students might face. These projects are particularly rewarding because they allow me to create broader changes and raise awareness, whether through school policies or by engaging with parents on topics like protecting children online.
At the same time, I’ve learned that you can’t make everyone happy in this field. Social work often involves navigating conflicting interests. For instance, if a child is struggling, you might not have the parents’ support, or changes you propose might upset others in the system. It’s impossible to please everyone, so I’ve adjusted my expectations and shifted my focus to making meaningful progress where I can.
Despite occasional frustrations like when resources or support aren’t available for projects I believe are important, I find my work fulfilling. I feel appreciated in my role and have discovered new talents and interests outside of ballet. Many dancers, myself included, enter the profession with such a singular focus that we don’t realize we can excel at other things. Later in our careers, we often discover passions we didn’t know we had. I see more and more of my former colleagues exploring new hobbies or careers, like writing blogs or pursuing creative endeavors. It’s exciting to see this shift.
I now feel like I’ve found a second passion in social work. While I’m not sure if I’ll stay in schools forever, I’m interested in other areas like working with women, particularly in prevention of abuse and domestic violence. My current role combines several responsibilities—I’m officially a kindergarten teacher, but I also handle the social work and pedagogical aspects of the kindergarten, and I collaborate on projects with the school’s social worker.
I’m still exploring different fields within social work, and since this is only my first year, I’m keeping an open mind. I’ve already registered for two additional certifications and officially became the designated contact person for child protection matters, which I’m very excited about. This is just the beginning, and I’m looking forward to seeing where this new career takes me.
Sarah: I think my experiences have helped me better understand power dynamics and why people act the way they do in certain situations. In ballet, for example, it was common to say yes to unreasonable requests, like staying longer at work without pay, simply because the director asked personally. I was even offered unpaid work twice after an audition in Germany.
As a young dancer, I would agree without hesitation, even though, logically, I knew it wasn’t appropriate or part of my contract. It was fear of being replaced or the influence of hierarchy that made it hard to say no.
Now, in social work, I frequently encounter situations where power plays a significant role. It’s helped me empathize with people who remain in difficult circumstances, whether it’s a toxic relationship or an oppressive system. From the outside, it can seem so simple—just leave, just quit. But I’ve come to understand there’s often a complex network or system around that person, making it feel impossible to break free. My own experiences in ballet have given me a deep understanding of this dynamic.
One thing I’ve had to unlearn is the habit of overworking and saying yes to everything. In ballet, overworking is normalized. No one questions working hours, breaks, or rights. I still find myself slipping into that mindset, taking on too much and realizing later that it’s overwhelming. For instance, during my first week at work, I stayed past my shift’s end time because I thought I should help out more. At 3:01, someone asked why I was still there and told me, “If your shift ends at 3, you leave at 3.” It was such a revelation to me—people actually leave on time here, and it’s perfectly acceptable!
This was such a contrast to ballet. There, if a class started at 10 AM, you’d arrive early, ready to go. After a rehearsal, even if it officially ended, you’d stay longer, practicing, cleaning up, or taking care of your pointe shoes. Things like preparation, watching videos, sewing shoes, and getting ready were never counted as working hours—they were just expected.
Now, teaching ballet as part of my current role has been another eye-opener. When I teach a one-hour class, it’s clear that preparation and changing time are all included in the working hours by law. If the class is from 2:30 to 3:30, the kids show up at 2:30 to start dressing, and by 3:20, they’re leaving the studio to change so they can leave the building at 3:30. Everything is accounted for, including prep time. It’s such a stark contrast to ballet, where preparation and extra work were simply taken for granted.
This shift in perspective has made me realize how much I gave in ballet without even questioning it. It was just seen as normal. Now, when I hear about the experiences of my friends, who are still dancers, I often think, “That’s not right.” But I also understand why it happens. It’s ingrained in the system, and people go along with it because they feel they have no choice.
These experiences have opened my eyes to the importance of fair working conditions and the value of setting boundaries. It’s been a significant adjustment, but one that’s helped me grow both personally and professionally.
I also empathize deeply with my students. When I see someone struggling, I remember facing the same challenges myself. Instead of blaming them or feeling frustrated, I look for ways to help them enjoy the process.
Sarah: Teaching has brought me so much energy and joy. It requires a lot of energy, especially with younger kids. The smaller they are, the more effort it takes because if I stop moving, they stop too. But I enjoy it. I feel great staying active, jumping around with every group, and demonstrating movements for the students. I don’t go to the gym anymore because teaching gives me enough physical activity each week to stay in shape. My body feels so much better now, and I love doing things like a fifth position or grand plié here and there. At the same time, I don’t feel physically overworked because I only teach a few times a week, not every day. This balance between teaching and my other work allows my body to recover and keeps my mind clear.
Sometimes I think I wish I had started teaching while I was still dancing professionally. I’m learning so much now through analyzing and explaining techniques to my students. When I see them struggling with something, I practice with them, and I feel like I’m improving too. It’s made me realize that if I had been teaching earlier, I might have refined certain skills as a dancer.
Being in the studio again is incredibly rewarding. The students look up to me, and I feel appreciated, but I’m also conscious of avoiding the mistakes some of my teachers made. I make an effort to pay attention to all the students, regardless of their skill level, and I work to motivate everyone. For many of them, ballet is just a hobby, though some take it quite seriously, which I love. I try to make the classes fun for everyone, even during challenging exercises. For example, when we do grand battements, I’ll put on upbeat music like Disney songs or pop ballet tracks such as Dancing Queen. I jump and run around, encouraging the students to push themselves, and by the end, we’re all laughing and enjoying the process.
This positive atmosphere gives me so much energy. It is incredibly fulfilling to see the students having fun and feeling motivated. I leave class with a great sense of accomplishment, knowing I’ve helped them enjoy ballet. In contrast, during my professional career, I loved dancing, but the routine and the feeling that only certain people were being noticed sometimes dampened my enthusiasm. Teaching has reignited my love for ballet.
I still strive to demonstrate exercises perfectly, hitting a fifth position or executing a turn correctly, but I no longer feel the pressure to be flawless. If it doesn’t work, that’s okay. I’m not on stage, and there’s no one judging me. Ironically, this lack of pressure often makes things flow better than they used to.
I also empathize deeply with my students. When I see someone struggling, I remember facing the same challenges myself. Instead of blaming them or feeling frustrated, I look for ways to help them enjoy the process. For example, if I struggled with a step as a dancer, I try to make that step fun for my students so they don’t develop the same fear or frustration I once had. This reflective approach has made teaching incredibly meaningful for me.
Sarah: The transition felt surprisingly manageable, though initially daunting. Writing my CV was a challenge because, to me, it looked unimpressive. It listed my ballet schools in Stuttgart and Munich, dancing with a junior company, and performing at one of the best ballet companies in Europe. While I was proud of roles like the Shade variation, I doubted anyone outside of ballet would recognize them. I had no practical experience in social work and felt like I was applying for something I had never done before. My one advantage was that I had no employment gaps, and I poured my energy into crafting an intense and detailed motivation letter.
I also needed the job to be paid, which added to my concerns. I worried that my ballet career might be dismissed as a mere hobby since many people don’t understand that ballet is a full-time profession. When I received a callback saying they had reviewed my application and decided to give me a chance, I could hardly believe it. It felt surreal.
Before applying, I shared my fears with family and friends. One friend of my father, who works as a secretary, reassured me, saying my CV wasn’t as bad as I thought. She pointed out that it demonstrated I could learn quickly, had worked in a demanding profession, and knew how to dedicate myself fully to something. She reminded me that I had successfully completed an online bachelor’s degree while dancing professionally, which was no small feat. That encouragement made me realize my skills and dedication could be valuable in a new field.
Many dancers I know share similar fears about transitioning. They often think their CVs look ridiculous or that they have nothing to offer beyond ballet. I’ve realized that’s not true. Ballet dancers have strong work ethics and a wealth of transferable skills. We are accustomed to presenting ourselves as a product, which can be an asset in interviews. While job applications felt strange and unfamiliar, I discovered I was good at answering questions, presenting myself confidently, and showing enthusiasm for learning and working in a team. Years of performing had prepared me to carry myself professionally and communicate effectively, even in new settings.
One pivotal moment in my job search was attending an open-door day at the school where I now work. Instead of emailing or sending a CV alone, I introduced myself in person, explaining my career and aspirations. My boss later told me this was a clever move, as meeting someone face-to-face makes a stronger impression than reading about them on paper. She also mentioned that my demeanor stood out. As dancers, we are trained to be aware of our posture, facial expressions, and presence, which made me approachable and professional. Even on difficult days, dancers know how to carry themselves with a positive attitude, which she said was valuable and made me memorable.
Sarah: Where to start? Be brave, because it won’t get easier by waiting. There’s no perfect day to resign or to make the transition without upsetting someone, whether it’s your director or colleagues. It’s not about them; it’s about you and your decision. Accept that it will be difficult, but that’s okay.
Be open to the possibility that you may want to return to the studio in some capacity. Even though I didn’t consider teaching at first, it became an incredibly fulfilling path for me. Stay open to change and be patient with yourself as you adjust. It will take time to establish a new routine, and the process can be tiring, but trust that it will come together.
Do your research and don’t be afraid to put yourself out there. For example, attending an open-door day at the school turned out to be a great way to introduce myself and share my story. Sometimes taking that extra step makes all the difference.
All images courtesy of Sarah Schaefer
