Six of them, two per style, between them covering every level on the timetable. All six still train, and all six still perform.
Dez came up battling in car parks and still teaches like it: count it, drill it, do it again. He is the reason the beginner class is harder than it sounds and easier than it looks. Ask him about foundation and you will lose twenty minutes and learn more than you did in the hour.
Priya choreographs the way other people edit — nothing survives that is not earning its place. She came to Hip-Hop late, from competitive gymnastics, and has never quite forgiven her body for being good at the wrong thing first. Her advanced class is quiet, fast and unforgiving. Students call it the best hour of their week, afterwards.
Kwame has been dancing House since before most of his students could walk, and he will mention it. He teaches lineage as seriously as technique: whose step this is, which room it came out of, why that matters. Warm, loud, and completely uninterested in anyone hoping to skip the basics.
Lena is a former middle-distance runner and it shows — she builds classes around stamina and paces them like intervals. She is the best person in the building to learn from if you are convinced you cannot move fast. Dry, patient, and quietly delighted the moment someone finally stops counting.
Rico spent six years dancing behind other people on tour and now teaches like a man who never intends to stand in the back row again. Big, theatrical, precise to the frame. He will give you a note in front of the whole class and mean it kindly. Wear something you can be seen in.
Sunmi teaches the beginner class she wishes she had been given: slow, funny, and free of the assumption that everyone already knows what a body roll is. She trained in Seoul, films everything, and will make you watch it back. Less traumatic than it sounds, and faster than anything else.