In past writings, I have given approximately twenty thousand reasons why I should not be a teacher, and quite possibly not a parent either. Yet here I am, faking it till I make it. Last year when all the kids went virtual, I started learning dances from YouTube and teaching the kids, just so we had something fun and active to do together. It often turned into me yelling at the kids, as if I was Lydia Grant from the ’80’s TV show “Fame,” walking around with my pretend dance staff. Then the school decided to have a virtual talent show, and I was all about it. I made up this cute little dance, and the kids just felt embarrassed to do it. But since they had no other way to “see” their friends, they agreed to play along. Practices were no joke, and I made them practice daily as if their lives depended on it. Yes, there were many complaints and tears, but they weren’t mine, so I was totally fine with it. They had three weeks to get it solid, and it was a hit. They crushed it, and I was beyond proud. And soon they forgot all about how much they hated practicing, hated getting yelled at, hated hearing the importance of getting a decent body roll down, and just reveled in their achievement. I watched that video countless times and remember it as one of the many creative ways we got through the quarantine.
Flash forward a year later to today, the kids are in in-person learning at school. However, there are still no large group gatherings, so the school decided once more to do a virtual talent show. When I got the email, I excitedly told the kids. To my dismay, they said in unison, “NOOOOOOOOOO!” I asked them why not in my most threatening voice. Reese said, “Ugh, Mom, it’s just embarrassing. It’s just not my style of dancing.” “What do you mean?” I asked. “‘Awesome and cool’ are not your style of dancing? Everyone thought your dance last year was so amazing. Didn’t you have so much fun?” Again in unison, “NOOOOOOOOOO!” Reese continued, “That’s your style of dancing, not mine. That’s not how my friends dance.” I responded, “Well, sounds like your friends are idiots. Don’t use that word. But your friends don’t know anything, not the good stuff.” Evan said, “And you made me cry a lot.” I responded, “First of all, you made yourself cry. Second of all, I made many people in college cry when I taught dances, and they are some of my dearest friends.” That didn’t seem to convince them. Final dagger stabbed, Reese said, “I don’t even like hip hop.” With eyes wild with anger, I gave Jamie a look like, “Make this child stop talking before I trade her in for a kid that likes hip hop.” Feeling myself losing their interest exponentially, I pulled the guilt card and said, “Okay cool, if that’s what you guys want. I thought it was a great way to bond with you guys, but it’s fine. Don’t do it if you don’t want to, I won’t force you.” Jamie came sweeping in and said, “Aww, Monkey, I’ll dance with you.” And I quickly pushed him away and said, “No thanks, I’m good,” to which he was appalled and dejected. Then Reese said, “Okay fine, Mom, I’ll do it. But nothing embarrassing like body rolls.” Seriously, whose child is this? I’ll have you know those body rolls got me Jamie’s attention decades ago. He’ll tell you it was my brains, but my brains were not in those little black pants.
I sweetened the pot and said, “I’ll use a pop song this time. And you know, if you guys are willing to dance, I bet you can get your two friends to dance with you. I can teach all of you together, it’ll be like a daily play date.” Hook, line and sinker, they were in. I told my friends to gently nudge their sons towards agreeing to my devious plan. Some background information, these friends went to Marquette with me and happened to have done many dances with me in college. So they were well aware of my teaching tactics, which means they either wanted their sons severely punished, or they were eager to see the results of their hard work. Their seven-year-old was all in right away, no questions asked. Their ten-year-old said no. I told them I’d get him. The following day, I picked the four of them up from school and immediately asked, “So wait, you don’t want to dance for the talent show? It’s going to be so much fun.” I started blasting the song I was going to use and said, “Dude, the energy from this song is bananas. You’re going to want to do this dance, it’ll be off the hook.” He gave me a look like he just swallowed a fart, and told me he’d do it, probably just to stop me from using terms like ‘off the hook’ and to turn the music down. Yes, I got the four of them. And yeah, in my head, it was going to be off the hook.
I gladly immersed myself in this little project, as I badly needed a break from the blah of my days. I made the dance up in my basement and had so much fun doing it. It did cross my mind a few times that this dance would be a little too long and difficult for them, and then I said, fuck it, it’s not about them, I need a challenge (see, definitely not what an actual teacher would say). Then I looked at the calendar and saw that I realistically only had about a week and a half to teach them a pretty difficult dance. Oh boy, time to dust off that dancing staff.
First practice was fantastic, they showed up with great energy and enthusiasm. They even told me they had fun. My friend said, “Damn, Ely, you’re so much nicer than you were in college.” “It’s day one,” I said, “Just wait.” By day two, I had already made Evan cry. He was complaining that the song was too fast and the dance was too hard. I tried to encourage him at first, but when he started falling down in protest as if his limbs lost all skeletal structure, I told him that if he didn’t learn how to work through hard things, he could sit there in the corner and cry while his sister and friends did the dance. To my surprise, he cried it out quickly and got back into it. I didn’t expect that at all, but I’ll take it!
The older two kids (I called them the 10’s) were able to focus and pick things up pretty readily. The younger ones (I called them the 7’s), yeah not so much. It really had nothing to do with their ability, but more about their attention spans. I have rocks in the backyard that pay more attention than they do. I would teach a move, and one of them would give me their very long-winded interpretation, “Oh, so this move is kind of like if a worm wiggled to the right, but then bumped into a rock and had to move the other way, right?” Then the other 7 would chime in, “No, it’s more like if a fish were swimming sideways, but then saw a shark and got scared, and changed to the other direction to save his life, right?” And then I’d lose my patience and say, “Okay stop. It’s like both of those things and none of them. Please stop telling me what it’s ‘like’ and just do what it is, okay?” Then both would say ‘okay,’ jump off the deck, and start playing with dirt and throwing grass at each other. I don’t think I’ve ever picked Reese or Evan up from a dance class before where they were covered in dirt, but here at the Newton School of Forced Dance, the students come clean and leave soiled with dirt, grass and dried tears.
Despite my lack of patience and stern style of teaching, the kids strangely kept coming back for more (oh that’s right, because I made them). The boys would tell their parents they had fun and would eagerly show them what they’ve learned so far. I would see Reese practicing by herself during the little free time she had. Evan even told me one night that he hoped there would be dance practice the next day because dancing made him happy and he feels better after doing the dance. What was this dance witchcraft that was transforming the kids? I personally always liked dancing because I enjoy shaking my ass, but I was seeing that the kids were loving it too. I guess we all needed a little side project to look forward to.
After a week and a half of some serious hard work, the 10’s and 7’s were so ready to record their dance, and they pulled off the performance beautifully. We were so proud of our kiddos, and even more importantly, they were proud of themselves. The way they cheered and celebrated at the end of their performance was pure joy to me. After we recorded the dance, I took the kids out for some frozen custard to celebrate and thank them for all their hard work. They were so grateful, telling me how much fun they had and how they will remember it forever and ever. One of the boys even said, “Thank you for being our dance teacher, thank you for the custard, and thank you for being my godmother.” I responded, “Okay dude, you’re laying it on a little thick…and that’s exactly how I like it. Keep it coming.” I was waiting for someone to tell me how pretty and fit I was, and maybe that I was a good dancer for an old person, but no takers. So I had to wait till we got home so I could tell it to myself in the mirror Stuart Smalley style. By the end of the afternoon, I watched their chocolate-custard-covered faces playing outside and thought, yeah I made those cute little bitches dance.
I came away from this experience learning quite a bit. First, kids love to move. Teach them a game, a sport, a dance, a new exercise, they will do it with just the right amount of encouragement or threat, however you want to name it. So even if my kids protest and say they don’t want to get up from their show or video game, I know that if I get them up and moving with me, they’ll eventually get into it.
Kids are also super easy to bribe. To get a couple more practices out of them, I dangled in their faces snacks, gum, screen time, play time, desserts, later bed times, you name it, and it always worked. I’m not ashamed of it. I will bribe children until it stops working.
I also learned the importance of making kids do hard things. If allowed, I’m sure the kids would have quit early on. There were many times the dance got too hard or practices got too long. I could have let them quit and made excuses for them, but I didn’t. I adjusted things or gave them breaks, but quitting was not an option. People don’t learn that feeling of accomplishment from doing easy things; it’s the hard stuff kids get through that give them that sense of pride. I knew I would not be the last person to make them work hard, so they might as well do hard things for someone that loves them and gives them snacks.
I question why it is I decided to put all this work into a little talent show. Was it because I was living vicariously through my kids, missing my glory days dancing on a stage with my friends with my tiny little pre-baby body for a cause I have since forgotten? Or was it something deeper? Perhaps I just wanted to give the kids something to look back on and be proud of, give them a sort of unique chapter in their lives that maybe not every kid gets, maybe even boost their confidence and self-esteem in the process. …Nope, it’s definitely the first one. The attention I got back in the day was dope and that little body of mine was ‘off the hook’, as apparently, no one says anymore (both about my body and the saying itself). But really, who cares what the reasons were. We all had fun with it, we made amazing memories together, the kids looked and felt fabulous, and I have the forced smiles on video to prove it.
(Special thanks to my friends for lending their children to me and giving me full reign, knowing the very real life-scarring risks. Way to throw them to the wolves, or should I say, into the Tiger Mom cage.)
The Mundame 