Rose Leitner rushes into a room at Desert Academy. Her wavy, dark-blond hair is pulled back in a bun. Her long, lean arms are loaded with books. She lowers herself into a chair and begins to fiddle with a peacock-feather earring.

The 18-year-old, headed for Stanford University, is one of the top students graduating from Desert on Thursday at the Scottish Rite Temple. She's a scholar with a dizzying résumé: painting, dancing, theater, music. Comedy improv is among her favorite arts, she says, but she's also wildly excited about teaching fellow students and faculty how to salsa.

Oh, and she recently fell in love with photography, she says with a laugh. "I took some classes at Desert and now I can't stop." She shoots film. She finds magic in the darkroom. "Digital feels like cheating."

Art is in her blood. "I decided at 3 that I wanted to paint," Rose says. "I wanted to be like my mom."

Ellen Chavez de Leitner, Rose's mother, is from a long line of Chimayó weavers. When she grew weary of weaving, Ellen turned to retablo making. She taught both arts to Rose, and retablo making stuck. At 6, Rose began selling her work at Spanish Market.

When she was 10, her piece was chosen for a Smithsonian Institution traveling exhibit, "Santos: Substance and Soul." She was flown to Washington to demonstrate the art.

Rose admits she doesn't look the part of a native New Mexican. "The reason I'm this tall, white, blond girl is because my dad is Austrian." Her parents met at the Innsbruck Symphony Orchestra, she says. Her mother was playing violin, her father, Hans, cymbals.


On a Saturday morning, in a crowded dance studio, girls of all ages step dance side by side to lively Irish folk music. Rose, the tallest, examines her form in the mirror; she studies her fast-moving feet. Her left hand is on her hip; her right is straight at her side. Her hair, bound in a long ponytail, bobs as her body rises and falls to the Irish beat.

In the middle of the routine, she stops. She repeats a step, a flick of her ankle, several times until she's satisfied.

She's been dancing since she was 8. She started with flamenco — "it's so passionate!" — and then discovered salsa. Three years ago, she began learning Irish dance, which is "just legs." When she joined the troupe, it was training for a competition in Ireland. "I had no idea what I was getting into." She laughs, remembering she won an award even though she was a novice. Now she's training for a summer competition in Ohio.

"I just have a need to dance," she says. "The joy and expression of beautiful movement — I don't think I could live without it."


On a Sunday evening, Rose enters the Loretto Chapel sanctuary, wearing a red rose in her hair. She walks tall in black heels, and the flounce of her straight, black skirt whisks around her ankles. Her shoulders are draped in a red Spanish shawl. Her cheeks are flushed, her countenance austere. Her fingers clutch castanets at her waist.

The chapel's Gothic altar frames a string quintet performing Luigi Boccherini's "Fandango." As the Latin music quickens, Rose quietly steps to the left of the stage and positions her hands on her right hip, her chin up. She watches the musicians for a cue — among them is her mother on violin — and a smile creeps across her lips. She can't help it: She was born to perform.

Her arms slide forward, and she begins to play the castanets slowly. Click ... click ... click-click. The rhythm accelerates. One-and-a-two-and-a-one-and-a-two-and-a. Faster. One-e-and-two-e-and-one-e-and-two-e-and. Her castanets are buzzing as the music builds, triumphant, until its last powerful note. Rose finishes with a flourish.

After the applause dies down, Rose wraps one arm around her mother. "She raised us all with music ... and art ... and education."


Rose is the youngest of six siblings — five girls and one boy — all home-schooled by their mother in Chimayó. The Leitner kids were always close, Rose says. They would pal around in pairs.

Rose did a couple of stints in public schools, but home school was ideal. She could squeeze in theater and flamenco, and have some free afternoons to paint. She says it also saved her from becoming lazy. "I guess I learned to self-motivate."

By the time her siblings had left home, it was a lonely way to learn. She enrolled at Desert Academy in 10th grade. The transition was a breeze. The move to Stanford, she imagines, will be the same. "I don't think I've ever had a hard transition in my life." She raps her knuckles on the table.

She's planning to study psychology at Stanford, she says, or maybe anthropology. She wants to travel, to immerse herself in other cultures. She wants to lose herself in learning.


In a downtown coffee shop, Rose looks relaxed. She'll soon be done with high school, she says, but her schedule won't ease up much come summer: flamenco, Irish dance, Spanish Market, farmers market. She might help at her sister's farm.

"I was offered a couple of other things, but I don't want to overbook myself." She laughs and digs into her raspberry gelato. She admits she feels pressured to choose which of her passions she'll pursue. "I think I'd rather pour my heart into a few things that I'm really dedicated to."

Which ones will make the cut?

"I'll really have to think about that." She rests her chin in her hand.

How does she balance art and school and dance and theater and family?

She shrugs. "I don't know if I actually balance it. I just live day by day."

Does it wear her out?

Well, yes, sometimes she's downright exhausted. "But it's all stuff I love to do. ... I know I'll pull through. It will pass."

Contact Cynthia Miller at 986-3095 or cmiller@sfnewmexican.com.