So at age 17, shortly after World War II, Betty Hayes began teaching dance while she was a senior at the southwestern Wisconsin school. She taught 21 students, ages 4 to 16, in a makeshift studio behind her mother's dress store and near her father's barber shop.

Spry, dark haired and 78 now, the diminutive Hayes-Baxter (her married name) still teaches dance. She never stopped. Ever. The number of students she's taught is unclear -- maybe 15,000 or even 20,000. She's left enormous footprints on the arts in Avoca, Dodgeville and Richland Center as well as every town without a stoplight from Spring Green to Platteville.

"I never really got to pick my vocation," she says, smiling, "but I can't think of anything I'd rather do."

Hayes-Baxter repeats it even after recalling many hurdles: the life-threatening cut to her shin at 21, family tragedies, new dance styles and students torn between dance and sports. And, of course, the flood. Last June, her studio in the basement of her Avoca home filled with nearly seven feet of water. She finally was able to return to live in her house less than two weeks ago.

First, though, on Sept. 17, her fall classes began for the 61st straight year. She couldn't wait.

Stepping forward

Hayes-Baxter's parents, Roscoe and Elva, both musicians, felt the Depression's squeeze. Their daughter, fortunately, could chose between piano or dance lessons. On a whim, she chose the latter. It came naturally to her. By age 15, after 10 years of lessons, she was the youngest performer in Milwaukee's six-person Maxine Zippers Dance troupe.

They traveled throughout Wisconsin, performing at everything from county fairs to banquets and store promotions to opening stints for radio stars Lula Bell and Scotty. "We traveled in an undertaker's hearse-turned-into-a-big-car," she says. "It was like a limousine. We felt like stars."

Her parents moved to Blue River from Milwaukee to be closer to family. The move infuriated Hayes-Baxter. "Of course," she says, "I thought the world was coming to an end."

Then Hayes-Baxter started teaching dance, mimicking her previous dance instructors. After graduating high school, she expanded her teaching to classes in seven different towns. At 19, with her dance teaching firmly established, she married Lee Baxter, a mail carrier. They had met at a ballroom dance. Lee hesitated to ask such a good performer to dance, but she eagerly led him around the floor.

Decades later, "She's still like the Energizer bunny," Lee says, "and keeps going and going."

Life, however, took a sudden and cruel turn for the young couple. In June 1951, Hayes-Baxter slipped and fell on broken glass while hurrying to a dance class. The cut sliced deeply across her left shin. She bled to an alarmingly degree. A tourniquet was used and Hayes-Baxter spent one week in a Richland Center hospital. Then extensive surgery meant a month-long stay in a Madison hospital.

"I was told I would never walk again," Hayes-Baxter says solemnly. She went from a wheelchair to crutches. Her grueling rehab regime, enhanced by her athletic dancing background, helped her to recover. Shortly after Christmas 1951, she returned to her Madison doctor.

The surprised doctor told her, "Thank the good Lord you're walking."

Her performing career, though, was over at age 22. Hayes-Baxter now boasts how she can stand on the injured leg. She also dances for fun. "I can still tap," she says.

And when she wasn't in the hospital that horrible autumn, she continued to teach dance.

Twist to hip-hop

Hayes-Baxter rolled with changing dance styles. She remembers scoffing at ever teaching "The Twist" -- but when students asked for it, she complied.

She's outlasted the disco era and even taught breakdancing. The latter happened on a Montana Indian reservation in 1988. As part of a church mission, she taught the kids to dance. At one point, 10 teens arrived and said, "We want breakdancing."

"I was able to help," she says, laughing at the memory. "I said, Breakdancing you want, breakdancing you get.' I did all the corkscrew things."

Her dozens of classes now have about 450 students, and she uses two assistants. Boys entered classes decades ago -- she had 72 boys dancing in 1996. What she could never overcome was losing dancers to sports.

"They used to always be at dance no matter what," Hayes-Baxter says. "Then I started hearing, I have basketball practice.' It was hard. I had to readjust."

She chose not to fight sports -- or to issue her students an ultimatum.

"I don't want my dancers to make a choice. I work in small towns. In my areas, my dancers are naturally better in sports. They have a lot of opportunities to play."

She's proud of her many annual recitals, but she never wants her dancers to feel competition.

"I want children to enjoy the lessons. There is so much stress on children today. In school. In sports. They're striving to get ahead. There's more on their shoulders. Dance is a learning experience, but I want it to be a relaxing experience, too."

Legacy

Hayes-Baxter's students have continued to dance long after they leave southwestern Wisconsin. Many started their own studios or teach at colleges. Others performed professionally.

"Betty instilled an incredible love of dance in me," says Heidi Clemmens, now an associate professor of dance at Western Illinois University. "She has truly impacted thousands of lives."

In the 1970s, dancers from her Hayes-Baxter's studio made two appearances on the nationally televised "Ted Mack Amateur Hour." Her most accomplished dance student has been her daughter, Cheryl. At 50, Cheryl Baxter remains an in-demand choreographer with Broadway and film credits.

"I only danced once or twice a week until I was 12 or 13," Cheryl Baxter says from her Los Angeles home. "She never pushed me. She didn't want me to burn out. Then when I really wanted to dance and loved it, she said, OK, here we go.'"

Baxter marvels at her mother's willpower. "She has done so much for the community," she says. "The kids have experienced so much more in those towns than they would have. The culture is amazing. She spreads joy."

When Hayes-Baxter reached her 25th anniversary as a teacher, she already had taught three generations of one family that participated together at a recital that year.

"She puts on the most amazing recitals," says Kathy McCaughey, a former assistant teacher of Hayes-Baxter's. "I know she's almost going into debt with her recitals, but she just wants everyone to feel good about themselves."

In the 1960s, Hayes-Baxter continued teaching while caring for four nieces and nephews who joined her household when her younger brother drowned at age 29 and her sister-in-law died of Crohn's disease.

Last month, the Wisconsin Dance Council gave Hayes-Baxter its lifetime achievement award. That honor helped her briefly forget the last three months.

June's flood battered Avoca, population 608, and nearly sapped her spirit. When the flood hit, her husband Lee was suffering from emphysema in a Richland Center hospital.

Volunteers, work crews and even prisoners helped the town's clean-up. Hayes-Baxter displays one photo of 10 prisoners posing with an eight-foot-tall Raggedy Ann dance prop that they pulled from Hayes-Baxter's studio. It took 20 trucks to remove ruined furniture and paneling.

If ever she needed the smiles of her students, it is this fall. Retirement isn't an option, she says.

"I run into people all the time who I taught. They'll come up to me and say, I took dance from you when I was 12. I now have 3 children.' They're surprised when I remember their name."

Hayes-Baxter pauses, happy to reflect on her dance teaching career.

She beams. "It's so good to look back."