Let Him Lead
Lessons from a Dance Class
"5, 6, 7, 8....you're going to push the lady over your arm clockwise...then take 2 steps forward, and back."
I'm at the Papamoa Sports Centre, listening to instructor Paulina lead Ceroc dancers (from Wikipedia: "Ceroc is partner dance best described as a fusion of Salsa and Jive, but without the complicated footwork...The name 'Ceroc' is said to derive from the French "C'est le roc" (it's roc). http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ceroc
I've just finished my very first beginner Ceroc class. I'd never tried partner dancing before, not the kind featuring dance steps with names. The closest I've come lately to any kind of choreography was a Zumba (exercise) class. Part of the reason I'm a runner is it requires little coordination (and even then, I don't always get it right – I commit one or two face-plants each year when my shuffling feet trip me). You've got the premise: clumsy runner attempts dance class. Hilarity ensues.
Only that wasn't quite it.
At first, I'm mostly confused. I hear Paulina, a lithe brunette wearing a deep-vee pink top, black pants, low-heeled shoes and a microphone headset say, "Lift, right, lift, right..." Is she telling me to "lift" my right foot? No, no..."lift" is Kiwi for "left." Of course. "Left right, left right..." I shuffle through a series of moves: the "Closed Neck Break," "Catapult," "Breakthru," "Manhattans," sprinkled liberally with a move called out as "Return the Lady," which I think means spin back to where I started. Six women and six men practice one move before adding the next. The women move clockwise around the circle to a new partner after a round or 2 of practice. 3 or 4 partners in, I'm paired with Paul, a middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair wearing a black button-down shirt and black pants. His aftershave isn't cloying, but it's enough to make me wonder if I'll wear the scent when we're done. Paulina turns on the music, and Justin Timberlake's "Sexy Back" starts thumping.
I'm bringin' sexy back.
Them other boys don't know how to act.
I think it's special what's behind your back.
So turn around and I'll pick up the slack....
I'm trying to remember when to spin and where to step when Paul says, "You're trying to lead. You have to let me lead." Oh. Novel idea: Let him lead. Do I let anyone lead? Am I willing to let anyone lead? Heck, when you haven't a clue where you're going, it makes sense to leave the driving to someone else. I've sat in the driver's seat so long, I'm not sure I know how to be the passenger. Or the female dance partner. My flatmate, Amy, who invited me to Ceroc later told me, "I'm usually the one in control. I have to be, at work [she's a CEO]. This is the only place I can switch off my brain. You have to concentrate to get the steps." She's right. As soon as I started thinking about this week's calendar, I missed an instruction. No more of that. Just the steps, ma'am. And let him lead.
"5, 6, 7, 8. Step back, Closed Neck Break... Catapult....return the lady. Manhattans... going, forward, and back...."
My class ends, and I practice the series of moves I've just learned with two gracious guys who compliment my beginner's pluck.
I sit to watch Amy and other dancers in the intermediate class.
"1, 2, back, over and down, return... over and 2, back... lovely. Take her out and over 2, back... Lovely. Just go forward, guys, and hold..."
Paul misses a step, falters a bit. That makes his dance partner, Amy, wobble. They laugh, then rotate effortlessly through a series of spins and dips.
"Return the lady. And forward and back...over the ladies, around, so guys go right, then left, forward."
Ceroc. C'est le roc. C'est une idee (It's an idea): Let him lead.
I love this story... we can follow when we listen.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Luc! And you'd be great at Ceroc!
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