Teaching points: The dance classroom has standards:  Make good decisions. Show respect. Solve problems. [These are school-wide standards.]

Targets:

• Understand & practice the nitty gritty: standards, routines & procedures for dance class;
• Get moving!

Context: Just now it’s no longer the first week of school, but the first week of school comes along every year, so let’s pretend we’re back there & get it down.  At the beginning, there are some necessary basics that have to be covered: clothing requirements, safety issues, fire & earthquake drills & expectations.

Lesson 1 :  Dancers make good decisions, with safety first.

• Assign each student a home spot [I use "color groups," with 4-5 student locations on each of six imaginary colored lines, the ends of which are marked by colored rectangles on opposite walls; each student has a position within a color group, and at the start of each week the front person rotates to the back of the line].

Red & orange rectangles mark the north ends of 2 invisible lines

Red, orange & yellow rectangles mark the opposite ends of invisible lines

• Create a t-chart (what do safe decisions look like & sound like?).
• Outline basic safety rules, including clothing issues (shoes, sox, long saggy pants) & dancing without physical contact (aim for the empty space!).
• Choose 3-5 locomotor/nonlocomotor cards from 15 posted on the white board & make a sequence, 8 counts each… perform safely [adapt for primary & intermediate by varying the number of cards].
• Individual students create their own phrase by changing 1 or more of the movements from the modeled sequence… perform safely.
• 5th grade: Learn self space moves for PataPata or another line dance with a repetitive pattern (e.g., The Hustle)
• Outline procedures for sitting together by the document camera (choose your neighbors wisely, focus on learning).
• Review safety points; outline safe dismissal & lining up.

Details for "Make good decisions"

Lesson 2: Dancers show respect, verbally & non-verbally.

• Post an “Instant Activity” at the door.  Primary: Do a sitting “hook-up.”  Intermediate: Do the phrase stretch, run, skip (8 counts each) three times, keeping space between yourself & other dancers & sit down.
• Define verbally & non-verbally.  Do a t-chart on showing respect during both listening & dancing. Non-verbally is what it looks like; verbally is what it sounds like.
• Respect the cues while dancing… As a class, choose 4 new locomotor/nonlocomotor word cards & put them in sequence. Practice with drum cues; practice with musical starts & pauses.
• Intermediate: Learn PataPata & alternate the basic moves with the practiced sequence.
• Review aspects of showing respect.

Details for "Show Respect"

Lesson 3: Dancers solve problems.

• “Instant Activity”… primary students do a lying-down hook-up; intermediate students take their places.
• Talk through solving problems on the behavioral level: solutions for when someone is talking to you, when you want the same prop as another dancer, when people bump…
• Solve some dance problems.  Primary –  Problem 1: Control your body in self & general space, using a range of movements in both. Problem 2: Think of some new ways to move [mirror the teacher in self space, alternate by creating never-before moves in general space individually]. Problem 3: Can you return to a partner in 16 counts & take turns? One partner holds a location, while the other partner travels & returns.   Intermediate — Solve some dance problems. Problem 1: Control your body in self & general space, using a range of movements both on location & traveling. Problem 2: Choreograph a sequence in a duet [choose 4 moves, put them in order, 8 counts each, include both self & general space].  Problem 3: Use your own phrase in alternation with the PataPata moves (do PataPata sequence 4 times; alternate with 32-count choreographed unison duet).

Details for "Solve Problems"

Lesson 4: Emergency Drill procedures have to be inserted somewhere during the first week.  Cover them, practice them & then repeat whatever dance structure was most fun & successful — the one they’re asking for!

An aside: As the year begins, safety & management guidelines are the first priority. I teach students from kindergarten through 5th grade, so many have already been with me. However, every class has kids who are totally new to the school & dance, so expectations need to be clearly stated. By using word cards, it’s easy & quick to get moving, I can assess locomotor/nonlocomotor ability, the kids are doing the choosing, & choreograhy — making up their own sequences & dances — starts right away.

“I just came back from a talk by Harvard psychiatrist John Ratey on the relationship between exercise and learning. His final comment in the presentation, during the question and answer period, was this:  “I think dance is the ultimate best exercise.” [John Ratey, M.D., 10/1/09, Drake Center, Fort Collins, CO]  He indicated that he thought this because dance combines physical with intellectual engagement.”

It’s probably coincidental that John Ratey’s book on the benefits of exercise is called Spark: The Revolutionary New Science of Exercise and the Brain. It’s on my to-read list, but meanwhile its title — and John Ratey’s quote about dance as the ultimate exercise — remind me of Sparks of Genius: The 13 Thinking Tools of the World’s Most Creative People by Robert & Michele Root-Bernstein.  Sparks of Genius is a book I’ve referenced often while trying to elucidate the kinesthetic intelligence for pre-service teachers in a graduate level summer course I teach.

In Sparks of Genius, the Root-Bernsteins explore the territory of how creative people get & nurture their ideas. By exploring journals, letters, reports & memoirs from eminent thinkers, creators & inventors (the likes of Albert Einstein, Arthur C. Clarke, Pablo Picasso & Helen Keller), the authors identified “a common set of thinking tools at the heart of creative understanding:”  observing, imaging, abstracting, recognizing patterns, forming patterns, analogizing, body thinking, emphathizing, dimensional thinking, modeling, playing, transforming, and synthesizing.  Creative thinkers have their preferred methods from among this list, and each tool can come to life in its own way.  Nonetheless, I have this list posted next to my desk in the classroom because every one of the 13 thinking tools occurs with frequency in a dance class.

• Students observe each other, both as fellow dancers and as an audience.
• While dancing or choreographing, movement flows from images.
• Choreographers abstract reality in order to express it, paring away peripheral details in order to reveal the essence of an idea.
• Dancers recognize patterns in both music & choreography.
• Dancers form patterns while dancing, improvising & choreographing.
• In order to express a concept in dance, a choreographer has to draw analogies between ideas & movement concepts (thus, water is to land as flow is to shape).
• Dancers use body thinking to generate ideas.
• Taking on the posture & movement of a character creates understanding through empathy.
• It takes dimensional thinking to bring ideas to life on bodies.
• A choreographer uses bodies to model & try out ideas.
• It’s clear from the sounds of laughter during dance improvisations that improvisation is play.
• Creating or performing a dance transforms ideas & feelings into experience & visual images.
• A dance synthesizes ideas, feelings, music, social interaction & emotions into a physical experience.

… thoughts sparked by John Ratey’s reported comment that dance is the ultimate best exercise.  And by way of clarifying the depth to which dance combines physical with intellectual engagement. Dance does pack a whollop.

And…

Rule #1 of John Medina’s BRAIN RULES, a book about how the brain works, is “Exercise boosts brain power.”  I’m so glad there are people doing research & collecting data, cause I’m too busy counting dance combinations out loud for 180 kids a day to quantify results!

Do you have more wonderful research?  Please share!

To cut to the quick, and at the risk of sounding whiny, I have eight 30-minute classes this year instead of six 40-minute classes.  Even before you consider the fact that classes often arrive late, thus cutting instructional time even further, there’s a vast different between what you can accomplish in 30 vs. 40 minutes.  In either case (30 or 40 minutes), there’s a certain amount of warming up, physically & mentally, that has to happen — an introduction to the day’s lesson & the guided instruction. In a shortened amount of time, what gets left on the cutting room floor is the independent work — the admittedly messy, inefficient & often time-consuming part of the lesson where students engage & have time to be creative.  But wait, wasn’t that the most important part?! The part where I quit teaching, and students do the learning?

Back to my ruminations on time…

In dance as in all activities, quantity of time can be measured — in counts, meter, minutes, duration.  But in dance & movement (as in all activities again I suppose), the quality of time — a person’s attitude toward time, as revealed in the movement — is far more important.

Let’s look at Time Qualities as delineated by Rudolf Laban. Described by Valerie Preston, one of his interpreters, in A Handbook for Modern Educational Dance (MacDonald & Evans, 1977), the Time Qualities are as follows:

“A sudden movement can be described as “urgent,” “sharp,” “staccato,” “excited,” “instantaneous.”  It can be felt as an immediate discharge of energy or as a decisive arrival at a new place. The sudden quality can continue after the body has arrived and is experienced as a feeling of urgency.

“Continuous suddenness appears as shivering, fluttering or vibrating and is an invigorating quality, but an exhausting one if continued over too long a period.

“A sustained movement can be described as “slow,” “smooth,” “legato,” “prolonged,” “lingering.” It can be felt as a gradual change from one situation to another or as an unhurried departure. The whole being indulges in time, extending this experience to the pause after motion has ceased.”

Thus, the mover’s attitude toward time is expressed naturally in movement.  Imagine the difference in your own movement in these 2 situations:

1. On the day of a crucial early meeting, your eyes fly open to the sudden realization that your alarm failed — and you might still make it if you leave the house within minutes.
2. Alternately, waking on an unscheduled Saturday morning when the sun shines lazily through your blinds, you stretch & roll over, beginning to think of coffee & the morning paper.

We’re not just talking about fast vs. slow.  The perception that one’s time is short leads to a sense of rush & urgency — which is possibly invigorating, but likely to be exhausting if continued. The perception that one has enough — plenty — of time makes a person unhurried, even indulgent.  The difference is frantic vs. relaxed.

So what does this have to do with education?  …we can teach & learn quickly, but we’re not at our best when frantic & pressured. The Writers Workshop, which I spent a week studying for inspiration in late August, asks for sustained periods of writing time for children — in order to improve learning. So the hurry of 30 minutes per class is at complete odds with the goal of providing students with time for sustained creative work.

Knowing all this, but stuck with my schedule, I’m left with trying to create an unhurried feeling of sustained learning within a brief modicum of time. So far, I haven’t been able to quell my own feeling of urgency, but perhaps it’ll come…

Whatever “classroom management” a teacher may have devised for working with 30 students in a regular classroom is pretty worthless when faced with eight 5 to 9-year-olds who are non-verbal, don’t look your way & respond to neither names nor instructions. Engaging songs & hand jives with a sure-fire history of capturing the attention of kids?  They go unnoticed, as these darlin’s wander the room, browsing for switches to flick or objects to carry.  Needless to say, the 10-minute break before their class includes a room-check:  a sheet to cover the electronics, pen basket onto the top shelf, everything on my desk shoved out of reach.

Of 90 minutes I’ve had with this week’s group, we’ve had about 15 good ones, in 1-3 minutes increments. I define a good minute as one when I’m not dancing all by myself.

On the positive side, of course, I do believe they need what I offer, if I can just figure out how to invite them along. And success has a whole new standard…

• Last week after 3 days of working on “clapping conversations” (I face a student one-on-one, and we take turns clapping), 3 of the 8 did something that I was able to qualify as a response.
• Yesterday Harry quit wandering & accepted a scarf, which he waved & tossed for a good 3 minutes.
• Today when the scarves came out, 6 of 7 were willing to sit in a circle in order to receive one, and most of them managed to follow my lead on waving, turning, & tossing. A truly stunning moment was when I put my scarf on my arm instead of in my hand — they were all with me!

As I head down this path, I’m grateful for help in all forms!  So far, I’ve met the OT assigned to our building — perhaps he’ll have some helpful insights.  In addition, I’ve made email contact with several other dance educators who work with special needs children, and I’m hopeful they’ll have much to share!  And I’ve gained a small but illuminating window into this world of uncertainty by reading Ten Things Every Child With Autism Wishes You Knew, by Ellen Notbohm.

If you have insights, advice or experience to share, please do…!

Driving Home

“Yeah, I just about popped that girl that looked down her nose at us. She was lucky she looked away.”

“I bet they never seen anyone so black as us.”

“Oooh, but did you hear the audience clap for us at the end?”

“Yeah, we came on strong for the bow.”

“And when we were doin’ our dance too! They got real noisy when Taneesha and Zenalisa came dancin’ back into the sticks.”

“Oh yeah, we were sharp!”

“Hey, look at that dude on the corner – I think he’s my uncle!  Hey, guy!”

“He’s not your uncle!”

“Yeah, he is! Hey, comb your hair, fella!”

“You know, he can’t hear you with the windows closed!”

“Yeah, well, he’s a mess.”

The banter from the three girls in the backseat was like birds chattering on a wire, shrill chirps overlapping and piled on top of each other, as we drove them home, with my husband Rick in the driver’s seat and me riding shotgun. Of the performers in our group this evening, these were the girls without rides, whose parents worked, didn’t have a car, or couldn’t come. As we turned south onto the highway, the cacophony in the backseat continued. I stared out the window, exhausted from directing their energies through the rehearsal and performance, feeling lucky myself that Zenalisa hadn’t decked anyone, and relieved that a fall chill kept their voices inside the car.

“Hey Ms. R, I don’t want to go home. I want to go to Zena’s house tonight. Take me to Zena’s house.”

This was Taneesha, in the middle seat, in one of her loud, buoyant moods.  A tiny slip of a 10-year-old, she wore carefully polished fingernails, big hoop earrings, and was endearingly cocky. She was fragile, brittle, spunky, steely, all at once or in close succession. The three of them, Taneesha, Zenalisa, and Latreece were like sisters, close, quarreling, and quick to rally as a team if one of them were challenged. When Taneesha had her down times, they’d be all over her with sympathy.

“Hey, Ms. R, are we gonna stop at Dick’s like the other night?”

“No, Taneesha,” I said wearily, “Remember the pizza before the performance?  You three ate a lot!”

“But don’t take me home, Ms. R. I wanna go to Zena’s. We moved, you know. My parents aren’t there anymore, where you took me on Thursday.  They’re at the new house. They want me to stay at Zena’s tonight.”

“They didn’t tell me that, Taneesha.  The permission they signed didn’t say that.”

We’d been there just the other night. Her duplex was upstairs, uncomfortably dark when we entered, but the switch at the bottom of the stairs lit our way to the door at the top, past torn carpet and litter on the steps. Her mom had poked her head out.

“Thanks for taking her!  How was it?”

“They did a great job!” I’d waved cheerily and escaped down the stairs as Taneesha ducked inside.

Tonight her insistences accelerated as we got closer.

“I bet you don’t remember the way, Ms. R! This is the wrong turn. It’s not down here. My mom’s at the other house, they moved all the furniture. They’re not gonna be here.”

Her persistence had my thoughts scrambling for a good option. The signed permission was all I had, and I couldn’t guarantee that a voice in a cell phone would be the right one, so I stared silently out the window. Without comment, Rick guided the car through dark streets, retracing our path from the other night. He was the insured driver, since the district didn’t condone teachers driving students. As we pulled up to the shabby two-story, we all saw the pack of young men standing around on the sidewalk. The girls reacted immediately, with urgent, wary voices, dropped almost to whispers.

“Hey, what are they doin’ on my sidewalk?”

“They’re nothin’ but trouble.  Why are they hangin’ out here?”

“Get away from her house…”

“They shouldn’t be here.  They don’t belong.”

There were three or four of them shuffling around on the sidewalk, dark against the dark night, with big jackets and baggy pants. In their late teens or early twenties, they were spread out along the sidewalk, talking and messing around. I’m thinking, “We’re going to stop here? And I’m going to get out?!”  My instincts screamed, “No!”

Our car pulled up to the curb, and with only a minor hesitation, I stepped out and opened the door for Taneesha. As we walked through the pack, she cussed and yelled at them to get away from her house. Shepherding her along, I didn’t even notice the car pulling away from the curb and easing up the block.

With her shout ringing in my ears, I walked briskly, Taneesha at my side. We climbed the steps, crossed the porch, and entered the dark hallway. The dim light brought the same litter to life as Taneesha clicked it on. She ran up the stairs and knocked. There was a muffled response, and she exclaimed, “They’re trippin’ again!” Another knock. “It’s me, I’m home.” Another muffled response, and she repeated with a disgusted grimace, “Ah, they’re trippin’!” The door opened, and she disappeared inside, leaving me helpless and uncertain on the stairs.

Turning away, I stepped briskly back out on the porch and walked quickly past the group again, with purposeful eyes straight ahead.  Just in time, the car pulled to the curb to rescue me.  I stepped in with relief, and Rick pulled away quickly.

After my shoulders had begun to lose their tension, after we’d gotten back on the highway and driven the other two girls home, and after we were driving home to our quiet, empty street in the north end, Rick told me why he’d pulled the car around the corner while I was walking Taneesha into her house.

“When Taneesha cussed at that crowd, Zenalisa & Latreece hit the floor of the back seat. They were expecting gunfire and stray shots!”

Rick had driven around the corner to calm their fears, and the girls had stayed on the floor of the backseat until the night silence, an absence of explosions, brought them out again.

The next day at school, the girls were their usual ebullient selves, nothing out of the ordinary. They chattered and quarreled, challenged and jumped to protect each other. But for me, what was driven home in that drive home was that home can be very uncertain, and that in their world, you have to be ready for gunfire.

Nowadays, however, the 6 have become 6 + 1 (add presentation). But even that’s obsolete!  Lately, the writing pedagogy that seems to be everywhere is Writers Workshop (developed by Lucy Calkins from Teachers College at Columbia University).  And while Writers Workshop acknowledges the 6 traits (+1) of writing, it’s more of a philosophy of teaching & learning, with quite a different focus.  So lately, my vocabulary & process haven’t been synching with writing instruction. It was clearly time for me to catch up!

Why?  Because when I’m teaching choreography, I try to use vocabulary & methods that parallel the way the kids are learning to write.  That way, 1)  our work in choreography reinforces their understanding of the writing process, and 2) the kids learn that the creative process plays out similarly in any art form.

So last week I spent 4 solid days learning about Writers Workshop. Naturally, I was the only dance educator in the midst of many classroom teachers & reading specialists. It’s a bit of a brain twist to spend 4 days trying to filter new information through my dance-and-choreography filter. Obviously, I’m not planning to try to teach writing — what I want to do is use the vocabulary and process of writing — where applicable — for teaching them to choreograph.

The biggest obstacle is that Writers Workshop uses the visible evidence of many drafts to help students learn how writing improves with refinement.  With choreography, there’s no good evidence of the growth — I don’t even want to think about the logistics of using video for every stage in the dance! However current it may be to put everything on YouTube, I’ve got parents in my population who won’t sign a permission slip.

There are some great points, however, that can translate from Writers Workshop to Choreographers Workshop:

• a notebook for gathering ideas is good, and the logistics might even be workable if I can get to Office Max in time for the 20-cent composition books;
• one teaching point per day!  not based on a vocabulary word, but as a complete sentence about what strategies dancers use;
• keep the lessons really short, and the engagement period long;
• modeling the problem-solving process by talking aloud;
• offer opportunities for really sustained improv and/or choreography work, not just at the end of the year but frequently;
• don’t make assignments; allow for choice in every task;
• encourage an attention to detail in the movement;
• work through the process as often as possible — from choosing a “seed” idea to drafting it into a dance, refining, rehearsing, and performing…

Sound familiar?  Yup, to me too. Why is it that I have to keep learning the same things over and over?  That’s OK.  It’s good to be recharged!