Listen! Listen!

I told my friend Barbara that I was open to taking a dance class through The Villages’ Enrichment Academy.  I’d taken several classes over the years: magic, various computer classes, several writing classes, cardio drumming, and, yes, dance.  Ruth and I took a few dance classes: cha cha cha, country line, and country partner dance.   I’ve retained some of what I learned, so I thought trying with a new partner might work out.  If it didn’t, at least I’d meet some new people.

I went so far as to suggest three possible dance lessons that I’d be open to taking.  I even sent three video links that demonstrated my three options:  bachata, east coast swing and west coast swing.  Most importantly I wrote:  “I don’t want to take them all, but I’d give one a shot.”  I went on to say, “You pick what looks best to you.”

She heeded some of my words but not all.  She didn’t sign up for east coast swing, but she did sign me up for west coast swing and bachata.  She went a bit further and signed me up for twelve other dance classes.  Fourteen in all: bachata, west coast swing for beginners, samba, bolero, cha cha cha, foxtrot and waltz, kicks and flicks tango, spicy slow salsa, couples dancing for the squares, cruise dance jam, traveling waltz, quickstep for beginners and west coast swing for beginners plus, for a total of fifty-eight hours of instruction spread out over a period of almost six months.  Holy moly.

We’re mid-way through four of the classes.  Stephanie teaches three of them and a drill sergeant named Attila the Hun teaches the fourth.  I love Stephanie and hate the sergeant.

When I think about the two, I go back to my years as an educator.  The best teachers offered assistance through a variety of techniques.  They worked as best they could to make instruction relevant.  They tried a variety of approaches based upon the needs of the learner.

For drill sergeants like my west coast swing teacher, yelling “Listen!, Listen!” works for her but not for me.  I just get angry with the yelling.  I tune her out and then I’m lost.

Stephanie demonstrates everything. She puts on a ball cap to take on the persona of a male when she shows we leaders our steps and takes it off when she shows the followers theirs.  She dances with each one of us so we can feel the dance as it should be felt.  The drill sergeant fires off “Listen!, Listen!” and I tune her out.

I want to have fun.  To enjoy my time as I learn.  I don’t need to be the best in the group, but I don’t want to be the worst.  Barbara and I are trying to improve by practicing on our own. We’ve even watched videos posted by on-line teachers.  We’re getting better but have a lot of room for improvement.

When I danced with Stephanie the other day, I determined that I wasn’t being strong enough with my lead.  The guy is supposed to be in charge, and if he does well enough, his partner just follows.  I’ve got to step up my game and take control with a positive attitude.  I’ve also got to ditch the drill sergeant.  My new motto: If it ain’t fun, just cut and run.

I haven’t quit yet but I’m not taking another class from Atilla. I don’t like her approach. If I gut it out, I’ll have six lessons from her. I’ve had three so far.  One of her beliefs is that there’s no music until lesson number five.  We’re just walking through the first four.  To learn a dance properly, I need music.  The beat helps me move my body.  Stephanie uses a variety of tempos which shows us how we can adopt the same dance steps to a variety of rhythms.  I like her approach.

I need an effective teacher.  We all do. I’m willing to do the work but Atilla has set a course that goes unaltered.  There’s no flexibility.  I struggle with that, so Barbara and I have agreed to drop the west coast swing for beginners plus.  We’re dumping Atilla and opting for massive doses of Stephanie.  We may not make Dancing with the Stars, but you can bet that if we keep up our current pace, we’ll be dancing in some bars.

I’ll keep you posted.