Dance is for Life

The ladies curtsey. The gentlemen bow.

“Everybody forward and back!”

A banjo picks up the Virginia Reel that will take our class on to new heights of social cooperation and gender tolerance.

When you have five kids, you serve a life sentence volunteering in their elementary school.

Let’s just say I took my “job” in the music department pretty seriously after a while.

If you can get a fifth grade boy to take a fifth grade girl’s hand for even that one small moment of sashay, you have achieved a major accomplishment.

My goal: to carry these kids beyond the worry of social norms and into the pride of performing as a group.  To show them how the collective movement in a dance makes something much bigger than the pieces that are themselves.

Why a school district would overlook the obvious life skills involved in learning different forms of music is beyond me. It’s math, physical ed, manners, focus, self-esteem building, creative process, and team-work skills.

But it’s cleverly disguised as fun.

The students are hopping and turning around large straw hats on the floor.

We are dancing the Mexican Hat Dance.  The hat provides a buffer between rowdy partners that will fail altogether once we start the Chicken Dance.

What a great excuse to move in the middle of a highly structured day.  As the lessons progress, the random sillies and day’s frustrations make way for body awareness and timing.  They feel the rhythms and steps slowly remove tension from mind and body.

And they like it!

Buffalo Gals is the next step up towards square dancing. Only it’s in a circle.  A wagon wheel actually.  The Virginia Reel is square dancing in two lines.

Someday I would like to graduate to actually dancing in a square.  It takes more practice than the teacher’s schedule ever gave me and so after fifteen years I still don’t know how to do it.  But give me the chorus to Buffalo Gals and our kids will rock that wagon wheel.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOhhhhh Macarena.  Seriously.  How is this dance still living?

We do the Electric Slide, the YMCA, your basic wedding reception dances.  The kids may as well have a nicely rounded education. If you can’t form a Conga line you are missing out.

We hold onto the person in front of us by the shoulders, not the waist, and I’m lucky they aren’t pulling shirts off backs as they centipede around the room.

Thankfully, the Bunny Hop allows for more individuality.

I try to have them make baby bunny hops, not giant rabbit from hell hops.

It doesn’t always sink in.

Here’s another favorite of mine: the Limbo Rock.  You dance it at luaus and who in So Cal is not going at some point in his life to one of those birthday parties?

I love this one because it is the great equalizer dance.  You have the line backers, the track stars, the class jocks who are way too cool to take these dances seriously.

Then you have the little guys.  The computer techies, the quiet fellows who are taking this all in and thinking somewhere in the back of their minds, “I am so finally going to impress a girl!”

And you are SO rooting for them!  The Limbo is their shining moment.

As the Great Danes crash going under that stick, the Chihuahuas are popping under with attitude and coming up to cheers.

By the end of the school year, I was making up hula dances to Lilo and Stitch and doing Native American Rain Dances complete with ribbon wands, bongo drums and a medicine man wig.

I loved my job.

There’s No Place Like Home(coming)

The boys’ Homecoming Dance was on Saturday.

The theme was “The Wizard of Oz”.

Knowing I was no longer in Kansas, I made a pre-emptive strike a month ahead.

I put on my best wish-granting wizard face and asked my 16 and 14 year old sons if they wanted to take a date.

An actual girl.

To a dance.

With them.

I would drive of course, and pay for incidentals (having zero experience in this parenting arena did not slow me down; I merely assumed that “incidentals” would go no further than pizza money).

Years of lecturing on The AntiDate have taken their toll.

They sensed a trap.

“Are you a good witch, or a bad witch?” said their concerned faces.

When I insisted that I was really, truly going to allow this frivolity, they held a Summit Meeting and decided that if they went without a date, they would be free to dance with any girl in the room instead of only the girl they brought.

Wise guys. (I walked away humming,“If they only had a Heart”.)

And the rest of the planning was their own business.

Son A decided to go casual and wear a brilliant green button-down with his slacks.

He went to shine his shoes and decided a little strategically placed crazy glue was a good precaution against his soles joining any flying monkeys in the gym.

Son B was all about the ‘spit-shine’. Nothing less than a flashy red tie and a snazzy vest would do. He put moleskin under his socks, hoping his heels would still be there after four hours on the yellow brick road.

Son A: “Are you wearing deodorant?”

Son B: “Yeah.”

Son A: “Well, put some of this on.”

Son B: “Why?”

Son A: “Because you should layer your deodorants, just in case.”

Son B: “That’s stupid. I’ll smell like a rainbow.”

They slicked up their fresh haircuts and actually brushed their teeth.

I know.

I caught them taking selfies before they walked out the door.

Arriving in our black Lexus was pretty snazzy, so said my sons, to which I did a hard eye roll or two, until we arrived in the Merry Old Land of Oz and watched a glittering Hummer limo pull up.

That’s a horse of a different color.

Now there’s some incidentals.

This ain’t Prom, folks.

Okay, no. I can’t even.

I have never stepped foot in a limo in my life, not even at my own wedding.

No kid of mine gets to, unless I get to first.

It’s a Life Rule, look it up.

(My parenting style runs the fine line between mature common sense and childish rivalry.)

But the boys said they had a wonderful time.

They danced with actual girls, and while both had been nominated as court princes, neither won the Homecoming King contest.

Just as well.

They would be posing like the Tin Man, forever.

Honor Your Partner Part 2

Always introduce a new dance class series with the Native American Rain Dance.  You need a hook for these poor souls.  They were told in no uncertain terms that these dance classes were mandatory and the first person to cop an attitude would face the firing squad.  Their eyes are begging you to not make them dance.  The only dance they are acquainted with, if they are, is what their older siblings are doing in the dark high school gyms to music that shrieks questionable lyrics at them.

Some of the girls are trying to hide their excitement.  They are FINALLY going to get a boy’s undivided attention for a five minute space and maybe even HOLD HANDS.  No matter if he was forced at gun point.  He will have to acknowledge her existence and treat her with respect.  If only it’s the right boy.  Oh no.  What if the teacher makes her partner with him??  The other girls are never going to stop teasing.  He might even think she likes him if she likes the dance.  That’s it.  The girls after ten minutes of thought have already decided to dance with the other girls and avoid the whole ridiculous mess.

Well, the Native American Dances have props and everybody dances with his own bad self.  Perfect. No one is going to notice if you are dancing “heel-toe” instead of “toe-heel”; they are having too much fun with the drums, bells, and ribbon wands.  Who doesn’t love to jump up and down yelling while making as much noise as possible during school?  Someone gets to be the rain man in the middle, wear the crazy wig and bang the bongo drums.  You should choose the most sullen face in the crowd, the one who is in NO way happy to be there.  Four lucky kids are rains from the corners of the compass. They spin clouds and wind back and forth over the parched planting grounds.  The rest of the tribe circles the room bringing their energy and their teamwork into play.  No one is getting graded here.  There will not be a test.  The smartest kid is irrelevant and so is the class clown and so is the bully and the kid who still can’t do those rotten times tables.  Everyone here is too busy, bringing home the rain.

Toward the end of my tenure I actually made up a hula dance to a song from Lilo and Stitch. The lesson music was uninspiring so we ditched it and instead danced a sunrise and palm trees and swayed as a group like the ocean, making waves that rolled from one end of the room to the other. Some music can take the class all the way to Hawaii in their imagination. It’s fascinating when the magic moment happens: the music goes into their ears and dances out from their hearts through their fingertips.

Quite on purpose, we wrap up our lessons with my beloved Virginia Reel.  Kids typically won’t go to a “dance” today and return home the better for it.  Our over sexed, over loud, over materialized music doesn’t seem to encourage manners.

But a dance, once upon a time, was the place to be civilized.  The lights were on and the ladies dressed.  Where gentlemen impressed ladies with their athletic precision in the steps, their respectful attitude on the sidelines, and practiced intelligent conversation.  Where ladies were gracious and polite and made the subtle flirt an art form.

Every boy in our fifth grade class learned how to bow to their partner, and every girl learned a proper curtsy.  It’s at the beginning and end of every square dance.

They may never have occasion again to use this skill.  But I am hopeful that knowing what it looks and feels like to “honor your partner”, no matter who it is and what the next dance may be, will go with them into their future.  Prepared for that one moment when simple grace and respect could change the course of their lives.

Honor Your Partner Part 1

“Everybody forward and back!”  A banjo picks up the Virginia Reel that will take our class on to new heights of social cooperation and gender tolerance.  If you can get a fifth grade boy to take a fifth grade girl’s hand for even that one small moment of sashay, you have achieved a major accomplishment.  My goal: to carry these kids beyond the worry of social graces and into the pride of performing athletic graceful movements that flow with the music.  To show them how the collective movement in a dance makes something much bigger than the pieces that are themselves.

Oh yeah…and to have a really fun time!

I volunteered for many years in my children’s elementary school, most of the time teaching music related lessons, kindergarten through fifth grade. It is one of the most rewarding things I’ve ever done. I have a lot of stories to share, but today…I just want to dance!

The students are hopping and turning now around large straw hats on the floor.  We are dancing the Mexican Hat Dance.  The hat provides a buffer between rowdy partners that will fail altogether once we start the music for the Chicken Dance.  It’s so much fun to have a reason to move in the middle of a highly structured day.  As the lessons progress, the random sillies and day’s frustrations make way for body awareness and timing.  They begin to realize that the rhythms and steps are removing tension from mind and body.  And they like it!

Buffalo Gals is the next step up towards square dancing. Only it’s in a circle.  A wagon wheel actually.  The Virginia Reel is square dancing in two lines.  Someday I would like to graduate to actually dancing in a square.  It takes more practice than the teacher’s schedule gave me and so in 15 years I still don’t know how to do it.  But give me the chorus to Buffalo Gals and our kids will rock that wagon wheel.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOhhhhh Macarena.  Seriously.  We do the Electric Slide, the YMCA, your basic wedding reception dances.  The kids may as well have a nicely rounded education.  These are life skills.  If you can’t form a Conga line you are missing out.  We hold onto the person in front of us by the shoulders, not the waist, and I’m lucky they aren’t pulling shirts off backs.  Thankfully, the Bunny Hop allows for more individuality.  I try to have them make baby bunny hops, not giant rabbit from hell hops.  It doesn’t always sink in.

Here’s another favorite of mine: the Limbo Rock.  You dance it at luaus and who in So Cal is not going at some point in his life to one of those birthday parties?  I love this because it is the great equalizer dance.  You have the line backers, the track stars, the class jocks who are way too cool to take these dances seriously.  Then you have the little guys.  The computer techies, the quiet fellows who are taking this all in and thinking somewhere in the back of their minds, “I am so finally going to impress a girl!”  And you are SO rooting for them!  The Limbo is their shining moment.  As the Great Danes fall going under that stick, the Chihuahuas are popping under with attitude and coming up to cheers.

I love my job.