And then it clicks (Part 2)

I’m not sure what happened Monday.

Maybe it was the arrival of a student who had taken contemporary dance before and knew what was going on. Maybe it was the weekend, and the kids having time to digest the ideas. Maybe it was even my stellar teaching skills, though I’m not so sure about that. Maybe it was the fact that two of the main troublemakers – great kids, and very good, but ALWAYS chatting or generally not working – weren’t there.

Either way, we had a bit of a breakthrough. The kids who were there were working, exploring, thinking, and suddenly really good work was happening.

There’s a big gap in the class: two very advanced kids who are either older or studied the form before, then the arts students who have experience with movement, and then the kids for whom all of this is new. The top two take the lead and work with the newbies, but I could sense on Tuesday they were getting a bit frustrated.

They don’t realize just how difficult these concepts are, and how for someone who has never done such a thing could be really lost. I’m just learning now, actually.

Despite the gap – everyone suddenly started improving.

For me one of the most incredible things is that they are still coming, especially the newbies. They look at me with some incredulity, they hesitate, but they still show up, albeit irregularly, and try. They carefully put their arms out, then drop them with a little laugh like ‘man, this looks stupid,’ and I always try to catch them right there, imitate the pose myself, and nod enthusiastically. I can’t tell them in their own language, but I mean don’t give up on yourself.

And they keep trying. It’s absolutely stunning—often much more so than the kids who already know how to move, and complete an assignment only to be done with it, and sit around talking until they get to show it.

There’s one boy who clearly doesn’t have any dance training. I haven’t guessed his age, but I’d say fourteen or fifteen. He never wears dance clothes, and can often be found sitting and watching, hiding behind a thick mop of hair. He smiles easily, but says very little, and hangs back. He’s usually the last or close to the last to show. He didn’t come on Thursday or Friday last week, but showed up on Monday, to my great surprise.

And yet. During an exercise in which we worked in pairs, there was an odd number and since everyone paired up immediately, he was left to work with me. I could tell he was reluctant, but we started working together. I don’t know how much he understood, but at the very end, he, like many new dancers, dropped the last pose. As if to say okay there I did it, sorry it was bad, I’ll go away now.

No no, I said, you have to finish the dance on a strong note. Hold the last position, then slowly come back to neutral. Don’t let it go, finish it. He looked a little strangely at me, but nodded.

During the showing, he did it, exactly like I had showed him, and the effect was startling. I was ridiculously excited about it.

It’s moments like that that make me glad I teach.