Riot and Frolic

Why I'm a Bad Teacher

I recently heard someone teaching Foxtrot to a brand-new couple.  This teacher was throwing out dance jargon and acronyms left and right.  "CBM", "using your center", and "LOD" were followed up by little to no explanation.  

I've overhead group classes taught where, after introducing the basic step, the teacher goes on to cover swing, sway, shaping, contra-body movement, and footwork... in 45 minutes... to people who kind of just learned the basic figure.

I've seen exercises explained pretty well, and then demonstrated pretty badly, and then performed en masse just so wrongly because the 5 techniques that lay the foundation for that one exercise weren't taught first.  

I've heard the phrase "breaking your sides" so many times it's lost meaning, and rarely is it said with a solution on how to repair them.  

If teaching technique is what is considered above, I definitely don't teach it.  

In beginning classes, I use long-term horrible verbs like "push" and "pull" and really technical phrases like "come at me, bro" to get people to understand connection and weight transfer.  I rarely use the words "rise and fall" and "latin motion" in the first 10 lessons.  

I often perform experiments on how demonstrating e-x-a-c-t-l-y what I want to see people doing goes a lot further than using a million words (which I also use anyways).  Ex.: every time I demo a Rumba basic, I push off my supporting foot as much as possible, doing very little hip and back motion to emphasize using... your... supporting foot.  Or the next time we do Rumba, I lift my free foot off the floor ever so slightly so people see the complete weight transfer.  And then the people?  They do the thing I wanted them to do without me talking about it and then we dance more and I talk less (well, at least while they're just standing around listening) and everyone is way happier.  

"Aren't you underestimating your students?  Isn't it better to push people to learn more, faster?"  

Thanks for asking! No, I don't feel like I'm underestimating my students.  Or anyone else's.  Considering how long it took ME to understand the phrase "move your vertical spine across the floor", with my pretty extensive movement background and a kajillion hours on the floor and how often anyone has to practice a physical skill to perfect it, I feel like I estimate people.

Do I know that a lead points his foot diagonal wall on the fifth step of a reverse turn? Yes. Do I love the difference between "side and slightly forward" and "forward and slightly side"? Yes.  Can I spend 30+ minutes on doing forward walks for Smooth without looking at the clock once?  Yes.  Can I recite to you most of the The Books?  Yes.  Will I hit up all that fun stuff in due time?  Yes.

Does that help newbies learn how to move themselves and someone else around the floor?  No.  Literally thousands of hours teaching the same thing to a bunch of different people has told me what works and what doesn't.  Sure, everyone may not like my style, but I can probably make you laugh with one of my horrible analogies and you'll probably come out of my class knowing something you didn't before.  

BOOM.  Teachered.

Food Crush: Leon

Naturally fast food. 

What?

Duh.

Wait, what?

How?

Stocking up on cookbooks at the local library, like I do, I spotted this fancy one and was intrigued. 

Who is Leon?  Is there such a thing as "naturally fast food" where you need actual recipes?  (I mean, can't anyone throw together a salad ?)  Why is this book so artfully fantastic?  When did food photography become an important factor in good cookbooks?  

The book opens with an "introduction" that seems to assume we already know who Henry & Vincent & this mysterious Leon are, which leaves me even more perplexed, since I've never heard of any of them, haven't seen hide nor hair of "Book 1", and feel like I'm generally well-read in the food world.

WELL.

Google proved to be indispensable again and upon searching, Leon (no Frenchy pronunciation, named after John's dad) is a fairly ubiquitous London fast food eatery.  Somewhat along the average time of a wait in the Chipotle line will get you any of their fresh, local, sustainably-raised, generally-healthy food choices of POACHED EGGS in the AM (POACHED EGGS, mo fos!), moroccan meatball "hot boxes" (served with brown rice and fresh slaw), fish finger sammies, various seasonal (SEASONAL!) stews, juices, smoothies, barista-made COFFEES, and gluten-free desserts in their biodegradable packaging.  

What the hell, England?

 

Wondering about prices?  SO WAS I.

My ideal breakfast (poached egg with ham & truffle gruyere, toast, and a latte) would be about $9.

A tasty lunch (if I was starving after practice) consisting of any of their fancy hot boxes, a freshly squeezed juice, and coffee (because COFFEE, ALWAYS COFFEE) would run about $13.  Dinner might be a couple bucks more, because DESSERT. 

And I wouldn't feel like I'm going to die two years earlier from what I just ate?  WORTH IT. 

Then I go on to find out the founders have helped write the School Food Plan (started by my first food boyfriend, Jamie Oliver and his Food Revolution) that outlines what kids will eat in school and how they learn about food.  And they have a program that encourages young people to learn how to cook 5 savory dishes before they're 16.  

They also have a line of pretty looking, delicious recipe books.  Of course.  

Then I lamented living in the U.S. where celebrity chefs seem disinterested in helping make healthy, real food cooler than McDonald's and where 20% of meals are eaten in a car and LET'S ALL MOVE TO ENGLAND because the exchange rate is pretty good right now.  

But then I did some more Googling and found some hope, so I'll stay here for now and tell you all about the hopeful fast food future next week. 

 

The Good, The Bad, and The Collegiate Competition

"Collegiate Competition" and "Many Amateur Competitions" or "Ballroom Newbie Competitions" could all be interchanged in the title today, but seeing as how I just judged a collegiate comp last weekend, that's my title.

Why I Didn't Love You

This is where it was really tempting to pull some of the 18,000 photos from the DanceFest Flickr album to use as examples, but I'm super nice, so I didn't.  

• You can dance International Rumba on time, but not either style (American or International) of Cha Cha... or American Tango.  Please explain.  No seriously, tell me how this happens.
• Body contact trumps good frame?  Dancing in body contact is super helpful, but if it messes up your frame (like everyone's shoulders are now in their ears and the guy's left hand is behind the lady's back), you all need to take a small step away from each other for awhile, build the correct muscles up, and figure that top-line out.  
• The walk-on with the arm out.  This has perplexed me for years.  You can read more about it here. Please, just walk onto the floor.  
• The really elaborate invite.  I love a good invite to dance.  It's so classy.  But sometimes, your invitation to dance gets a little crazy.  Best advice?  Keep it simple, stupid.  And the part that sounds really mean?  Don't let your personality show too much.  Not there anyways.  It's kind of like walking-onto-the-floor thing.  Just get into frame, y'all.
• Your footwork is a constant mystery.  Heel leads on 3 in Waltz, toe releases in Rumba, or just flat feet through entire dances: if your footwork isn't correct, your basic movement usually isn't either.  
• International isn't American and vice versa - there's no Crossbody Leads in International Cha Cha and Rumba, there's no Closed Promenade and everything is in 8s in American Tango, American Waltz has Open Position, Jive and Swing have totally different chassés... I could literally go ON and ON.  And I'm available for private lessons.  

Why I Loved You

These critiques are more fun for everyone.

• Your unbridled enthusiasm.  While most professionals are passionate are their dancing, it's been tempered by years of participation and politics, and your passion is palatable.  Watching you in the ballroom, I literally feel like bouncing up and down and yelling "DANCING!" while hugging all of you.
• Your love for dancing.  Have you ever had a friend who you thought loved you too much?  I sense dancing might feel that way about you sometimes.  It's intense and great and a little bit scary, therefore all the more exciting to see.  
• You dance like no one is watching.  Keep doing that, and apply it to all things.
• Team work.  While ballrooming is a two-person sport on the floor, your ever-expanding teams and the support you give to one another off the floor is endearing.
• Even if one of you looks like you're going to throw up, the other one looks so patient and supportive.  Partnership, man: you're nailing it.
• The occasional count-out-loud.  Beginners are always fun to watch dance, NOT BECAUSE WE'RE MAKING FUN OF YOU, but because we were all there once.  But the lead counting out loud?  MY FAVORITE.  The follow counting out loud for the lead?  My second favorite. 
• The facial expressions.  In case I wasn't sure you were having fun, your face is clearly expressing your enjoyment.
• The proud parents.  While my Facebook feed was basically everyone changing their profile and cover pictures for two days, I also saw many of you tagged in pictures from your proud-as-a-peacock parents, who were clearly bursting at the seams to show off how well you clean up, how fancy you are, and what good genes you obviously inherited.  
• The social dances.  Again, almost scary with the level of enthusiasm and energy level, and as long as I spectate from afar, it's clear you love dancing with each other.  All of each other.  Politicians have something to learn from your inclusion and acceptance.  
• The intercollegiate love.  Yeah yeah, it was a competition, but there's some serious love between teams at these things.  
• The same sex partnerships. Maybe I'm biased, but I especially loved the guys dancing together.  Because it's just what you do.  Who cares who leads or follows?  Knowing both parts makes you a better dancer and it was great to see that in action.
• Your total awareness of the junior peanuts dancing around you that were half your size.  I know they're hard to see and I threatened you beforehand with cancellation of callbacks if you specifically hit my kid and her partner, but you had it all under control and gave all of them a wide berth.  

In case you thought reading this was lame, here's a fun picture:

me, at my first pro-am competition, looking super awesome

 And another one:

kid #1 (the girl), making finals from a quarterfinal, and no, I didn't call them back for the final #humblebrag