Diary of a Dance Mistress, part 2: I'm not qualified for this job
My poor monthly Friday-night class limps along, with an average of four students each class, never the same four. I suspect that our efforts to create a social dance community in this town are doomed, and I try hard not to blame myself for this (if I were a better teacher, more inspiring, had better music...)-everyone who comes to my class says they enjoy it, but they never come back, so I suspect they're being polite.
A consequence of this lack of success has been diminishing enthusiasm for the entire project on my part. It is exhausting to teach the basics, over and over again, to people who have never danced before, to start a social dance with only four people, to have to dance with all the beginners, over and over again, to know that they'll never improve because there's nobody else for them to dance with. It is exhausting to teach for two-hours and face another two hours of manhandling people along the floor, feeling guilty if you sit one out, because there are folks who came to dance, and you're the only one who can dance with them. It is tiring dance with very inexperienced dancers, and not coach them on the dance floor, because it's a social dance, and you've just asked them to refrain from coaching each other.
Oh, and since we never even break even on these dances, I don't make any money for my time.
So this past Friday, I really wasn't into the notion of Friday night waltz. It had been a long day, I was tired from a rough week, I'd been thinking about the Rapscallion, with whom I never got a final waltz, I had to pack for a 6:00 a.m. flight to go play dance dolly* for a friend in Connecticut, and I wanted nothing more from life than to go home, fill the bathtub, and settle into the bath with some ice cream and a copy of Pamela Dean's Tam Lin.
My students, this particular Friday, turned out to be one lady who had done some ballroom, and thought that spike-heeled sandals were appropriate shoes for dancing**, a couple who had done some swing, and an older man who was mostly deaf, walked with a cane, and couldn't straighten one arm.
I kid you not. I had a mostly-deaf, mostly-lame student.
At this point, I very nearly cried.
O.k., I don't mean to be ablist. I think that people with disabilities should be able to benefit from dancing, if they wish to. There's a young woman in New England who dances and does so with some sort of disability that causes her to be very stiff and to limp. She navigates the dances very well, and on time, and is as much a part of the dance community as any of the other dancers. And I know that dancers who are deaf and hearing-impaired can often feel the music. For someone who wants to dance, the disabilities should not stop them. But I don't know how to teach people with disabilities how to dance. And this man was really incapable of hearing me, or the music, and he couldn't do any of the things that people need to do to be good partners. Dancing with him was painful. He couldn't understand my instructions, and I couldn't slow down the class for him without losing the other three would-be dancers.
So spike-heeled lady removed her shoes, and I feard for her toes all night. She danced with the organizer, I danced with deaf-cane-guy (who was wearing very heavy shoes), and the couple danced with each other. And it was dire.
For the social dance, my swing-dance partner showed up, so I got a couple of pleasant dances in, but felt guilty for not dancing with the newbies all night.
My evening only got worse from there.
*demo partner for a dance teacher
**they are o.k., maybe, for clubbing, I don't know because I never go clubbing. For a turning dance they are downright dangerous. Appropriate shoes for soclal dancing are comfortable, offer support, have leather or otherwise slippery soes (duct tape works well to turn a pair of sneakers into a pair of dance shoes), and ideally have some cushioning for the feet (this can be accomplished with cushy insoles). If you feel that you need heels, they should be wider heels, and the shoes should stay on your feet when you pick your feet up. You don't need special dance shoes, but you do need something that will keep you from injuring yourself or other dancers.
***
A consequence of this lack of success has been diminishing enthusiasm for the entire project on my part. It is exhausting to teach the basics, over and over again, to people who have never danced before, to start a social dance with only four people, to have to dance with all the beginners, over and over again, to know that they'll never improve because there's nobody else for them to dance with. It is exhausting to teach for two-hours and face another two hours of manhandling people along the floor, feeling guilty if you sit one out, because there are folks who came to dance, and you're the only one who can dance with them. It is tiring dance with very inexperienced dancers, and not coach them on the dance floor, because it's a social dance, and you've just asked them to refrain from coaching each other.
Oh, and since we never even break even on these dances, I don't make any money for my time.
So this past Friday, I really wasn't into the notion of Friday night waltz. It had been a long day, I was tired from a rough week, I'd been thinking about the Rapscallion, with whom I never got a final waltz, I had to pack for a 6:00 a.m. flight to go play dance dolly* for a friend in Connecticut, and I wanted nothing more from life than to go home, fill the bathtub, and settle into the bath with some ice cream and a copy of Pamela Dean's Tam Lin.
My students, this particular Friday, turned out to be one lady who had done some ballroom, and thought that spike-heeled sandals were appropriate shoes for dancing**, a couple who had done some swing, and an older man who was mostly deaf, walked with a cane, and couldn't straighten one arm.
I kid you not. I had a mostly-deaf, mostly-lame student.
At this point, I very nearly cried.
O.k., I don't mean to be ablist. I think that people with disabilities should be able to benefit from dancing, if they wish to. There's a young woman in New England who dances and does so with some sort of disability that causes her to be very stiff and to limp. She navigates the dances very well, and on time, and is as much a part of the dance community as any of the other dancers. And I know that dancers who are deaf and hearing-impaired can often feel the music. For someone who wants to dance, the disabilities should not stop them. But I don't know how to teach people with disabilities how to dance. And this man was really incapable of hearing me, or the music, and he couldn't do any of the things that people need to do to be good partners. Dancing with him was painful. He couldn't understand my instructions, and I couldn't slow down the class for him without losing the other three would-be dancers.
So spike-heeled lady removed her shoes, and I feard for her toes all night. She danced with the organizer, I danced with deaf-cane-guy (who was wearing very heavy shoes), and the couple danced with each other. And it was dire.
For the social dance, my swing-dance partner showed up, so I got a couple of pleasant dances in, but felt guilty for not dancing with the newbies all night.
My evening only got worse from there.
*demo partner for a dance teacher
**they are o.k., maybe, for clubbing, I don't know because I never go clubbing. For a turning dance they are downright dangerous. Appropriate shoes for soclal dancing are comfortable, offer support, have leather or otherwise slippery soes (duct tape works well to turn a pair of sneakers into a pair of dance shoes), and ideally have some cushioning for the feet (this can be accomplished with cushy insoles). If you feel that you need heels, they should be wider heels, and the shoes should stay on your feet when you pick your feet up. You don't need special dance shoes, but you do need something that will keep you from injuring yourself or other dancers.
***