Inspired to excel: teamwork is the key for Trinity Academy dancer Laura McNamara. (Young dancer[R]).

It's a wintry day in the Midwest, and there are hundreds of girls ages 6 to 18 in a big conference room at the Mid-America Oireachtas of Irish Dance in Chicago. All are wearing mops of synthetic curls, glittery tiaras, and stiff, embroidered dresses. The hair is big, the dresses are big, and there are no bunheads.

Laura McNamara, a pretty, pale redhead with brown eyes and heckles, is one of the thousands competing at the Hyatt Regency O'Hare. Now 17, she's been attending the Trinity Academy of Irish Dance since she was 5; one day she hopes to join the Trinity Irish Dance Company, the professional performing branch of the Trinity organization. Two years ago, at the same Irish dance oireachtas, or festival, the quiet teenager placed nineteenth in the solo competition; last year she placed first. How did this shy girl who was far from the winning rung rise so quickly to first place?

According to Mark Howard, who formed Trinity Academy of Irish Dance when he was only 17 and now directs the Trinity Irish Dance Company, part of the story lies in the fact that "Irish dancing exists today because of Irish one-upmanship." For one thing, he says, Irish dancers, like tap dancers, traditionally challenge one another, trying to outdo whoever preceded them. For another, it became a matter of pride to assert one's Irish heritage: This centuries-old folk form was codified in the early twentieth century during the Gaelic revival. The first world competition, another outgrowth of Irish nationalism, was held in 1970, and the number of competitions has grown exponentially: There are now regional, national, and international oireachtas.

But Howard says that cutthroat competition is not part of the Trinity ethos. McNamara agrees. "It's more of a team effort," she says. "Even soloists should act like a team." The idea is that one dances for oneself, but never for oneself alone.

Howard discovered the spirit of cooperation in the modern dance world, he says, where artists would admire and congratulate one another. Now he aims for depth of character in his dancers rather than winning at all costs. "They're trained to love what they do," he explains. "It's almost Eastern, to want to do it beautifully." He believes in the rewards of expressing oneself artistically and even "opening your heart to losing," which he feels dancers and parents alike must do.

McNamara, a Milwaukee resident whose parents are both Irish-American, first participated in small competitions when she was 6. "I never got really nervous," she says. "It was just a fun thing to do on weekends. Plus we won my first ceili [a group or team dance for four, sixteen, or typically eight dancers], and that was fun."

The spirit of cooperation begins at the school, where McNamara has been a "driller" or teacher's helper since she was in sixth grade. A few hand-picked junior high students keep the little dancers in order and help them with dance basics, such as turnout. "I love it," McNamara says. "It's fun to see the outcome, how kids improve--putting what you've been told to use outside your own dancing." The same team spirit also comes through the family aspect of Trinity. McNamara likes the fact that her two younger sisters also dance at the academy, and that recently her father began to take lessons and joined the adult team. Also, her parents are friends with other parents of dancers, and their children are her friends; she's known many of her fellow dancers since they were 8.

At Trinity, students first study all the basic elements of traditional Irish dance, which is based on the solo dance. "You learn foot positions, how to hold yourself--arms down, chin up, and torso stiff," she says. The jig is the first solo dance that children are taught, then usually the reel, both of which are done in soft shoes. After a year or so, McNamara explains, students progress to hard shoes (a cross between tap and toe shoes, the tips and heels of which are reinforced with fiberglass).

As in ballet, turnout is important, especially because of the crossover steps (essentially done in third position). And rocks, in which the ankles flex deeply from side to side, require exceptionally strong lower legs. By the time it comes to dance on toe, according to Howard, it's second nature.

Although competitive Irish dancing has been around for years--appealing, in part, to the more than thirty million Irish Americans in the U.S.--the form became broadly popular with such high-visibility shows as Michael Flatley's Lord of the Dance and Riverdance. Howard formed the Trinity Irish Dance Company before that, in 1992, and says his Irish-dance school is the only one to have a professional troupe. With two teaching branches in Chicago and two in Chicago suburbs, plus one apiece in Milwaukee, Madison, and Waukesha, Wisconsin, it's a big organization. Maureen Gill, marketing and PR director, estimates the academy has more than 1,300 students, of whom a mere 300 are competing here. The company has won twenty-two world titles in team dancing.

When asked how she went from nineteenth to first place in solo dancing, McNamara says simply, "Lots of hard work. I wanted to get better scores." But she also relied on the inspiration and help of the dancers around her. "You can learn a lot from other dancers, applying their stuff to your steps," she notes, things like "leg extension, nice sharp foot placement, using the whole floor."

It also helped that she started expanding the range of her training, she says. A physical therapist taught the dancers new stretches and ways to use muscles they didn't know they had. And a Pilates teacher taught them to use the core muscles around the spine to improve posture and work from their centers.

But even determination and hard work aren't always enough. One of McNamara's teammates had her headband fall down around her eyes. Another is famous for forgetting her steps. As for McNamara, at the beginning of her routine in the solo competition the day before, she fell on her butt and her legs flew up in the air. The floor was slippery, she explains. The judges gave her a break and let her start over, but perhaps in that moment she opened her heart to losing first place. She came in third.

Laura Molzahn writes about dance for the Chicago Reader, where she is also an editor.