Up the steep and narrow stairway...

I decided to take a beginner jazz class. Understand; I used to be a dancer. A real one. No longer. I am twenty pounds overweight with aches and pains and haven’t moved to music since my daughter was born twenty-four years ago. It was the time in my life when I made the transition from body to brain and I don’t regret it.  At least, I didn’t until yesterday when I went to a beginner jazz class.

Truthfully, I did not expect much of myself...and this was good. I tend to push myself in areas that I have no business expecting perfection and then have fits when I don’t succeed...this time, I just wanted to feel myself moving through space to music and didn’t even imagine I would have the stamina to finish the hour and a half class. The old me would have never dared let myself take a break, and I would have passed out and needed medical attention. My friends know I am not exaggerating. I’ve grown wiser and more easily accept my limitations... a challenge my students face now. Who doesn’t want to be perfect?

 I found myself more interested in assessing the dance teacher and his method of teaching than beating myself up for not being able to do a dance step.  This teacher would never be successful in a Twice-exceptional (2e) classroom setting. He was not there to motivate, support or praise. He barely smiled. Granted, he was a dancer and we were not, but come on, a little encouragement please. It only took a few minutes before I found my chance to insert, “I haven’t danced in 25 years” into the conversation. It was my way of assuring myself that the teacher would not be too judgmental. Well, he was anyway and wasn’t going to throw a crumb of praise my way.  No sir. You came here to dance, so dance! I had to be content with my own inner dialogue of support, something that I consistently stress the necessity of to my students. I allowed myself the room to make mistakes and this embrace of imperfection allowed me to IMPROVE! Irony.

My students are their harshest critics and I guess when you have IQs above one hundred, some way above, you must expect a lot of yourself. My students tend to be cynical and the worst thing you can do is patronize them. They want the truth. A student once dismissed me, “Oh Pat, she thinks all of her students are wonderful.” What he didn’t understand is that I FIND something wonderful in all of them, but this way of looking at others is not what comes naturally to these bright learners.  So, as I dance, I keep a dialogue of support running in my head and think about my students who don’t have this skill yet.  I will use this experience during our “Morning Spew” to help nurture their self-acceptance.