David got sent to “time out” the other day. This happens a lot because he is both almost three years old and a boy. But on this particular day, instead of howling and writhing on the floor, he jumped on to his bed, grabbed hold of the railing, and started bouncing up and down, chanting “One, two, cha-cha-cha!” I had planned not to look him in the eye until he apologized, but I felt like this little Marx Brothers routine deserved a glance and a smile.
It put me in mind of my own childhood – sixth grade to be exact – when I, along with many of my friends form school, were signed up for ballroom dancing lessons with the esteemed Mr. Benjamin on Monday nights. The lessons were held in a small building out by the Willow Street bridge (I think) and required all of us to dress up in our best clothes: dresses for the girls, shirts and ties for the boys. Once there, we were divided by gender and stood in a line along opposing sides of the room. Mr. Benjamin would then take us through the basic steps of the dance for the evening; Fox Trot, Waltz, Rumba, Cha Cha, etc. First, he would roll up the left leg of his trousers and instruct the boys to watch him (and especially that left leg) closely. The he would repeat the same for the girls, asking them to watch the right leg. Once he finished with the basic instruction, he would head over to a small record player, pop on a 45 of some recent top-40 hit in the correct meter and tempo, and then the boys would have to cross the room, find a partner, ask politely for this dance, and then practice the steps…making idle conversation all the while. Mr. Benjamin would circulate around the room checking on our steps as well as our conversation. When the song ended, we were to part and applaud.
Lessons in decorum and the workings of polite society.
Oh, if Mr. Benjamin could see David, naughtily trashing the Cha Cha, I wonder what he’d say.
Friday, February 22, 2008
Monday, February 4, 2008
Monkey Business
David and Trinity started tumbling classes last week. We've noted for a long time what beautiful summersaults they both do, David especially: he tucks his head under and rolls forward with his legs straight and together. It's like watching a seasoned diver go into a tuck from the high dive. Trinity's summersaults are a little more like head stands with an added bonus (and she can't do them on the hard wood floors because the' 'fro doesn't create enough friction, but we do get some much needed sweeping done when she tries!). We've also taken note of just how house bound we feel in these cold winter months. And so we made the decision to get the kids out of the house and maybe build some athletic skills while we're at it.
Trinity has taken right to it. She is focused and enthusiastic. She's in love with the bar that they have set up about 2.5 feet off the ground and from which she can hang. Her other great love is the trampoline, and then comes getting thrown into the gigantic pit of large foam squares. In fact, the very idea of tumbling came from Trin's talent for crib jumping and general rolling about. Check her out:**
David, on the other hand, mostly wants to see what other people are doing. These other people are mostly girls between the ages of 8 and 17 who are flip-flopping all over the place at great speed, and he usually wants to get close to the action. Poor guy: at the rate he's going, he'll be trampled by a group of girls in leotards before his third birthday.
A student of mine is a former competitive gymnast, and while talking to her and her father about tumbling and gymnastics, I realized that I don't think I want either one of them to *really* pursue it. The combination of high cost and unholy hours, not to mention ghastly injuries for micro-miscalculations, and long-term ill-effects (my student tells me she can't bowl, for instance, because her arm pops out of it's socket on the backswing), leaves me less than enthused. Still, it's great to see them getting some focused instruction and having a blast at the same time. Plus, I would love for them to be able to do those high-speed handspring jobs that cover about 50 yards by the time they're done.
Frankly, I would love to be able to do that myself....just to change things up and develop a few tricks that would make an impression...maybe spice up the teaching routine.
Classes started for me last week and I have to admit to feeling a little less than enthused right off the bat. For one thing, I'm teaching three courses that I've taught many, many times before. I change things up as much as I can, just to keep myself interested, but there's only so much you can do sometimes. And each first day of class does tend to bring the same array of questions. Here are some of my favorites -- the ones that drive me batty:
* On the syllabus, if there is a reading listed on a certain day, does that mean we should have it read by that day, or do it on that day? (Honestly, I just don't understand this one.)
* My parents are flying me to London at the end of the semester. I leave on the day of the final, and that's the only flight they could get. Can I take the final early? (I'm always amazed just how poorly parents and their travel agents anticipate the final exam schedule).
* Will you tell us what is going to be on the quizzes? (My reply: "Questions that you need to answer.")
* Is there going to be extra credit? (My reply: "The fact that you are already preparing for the possibility of needing extra credit is a bad sign.")
And my all time favorite....
* Do I need to buy the books? (To which I typically answer, "I don't know. Do you?")
I probably sound like an ogre. I'm not. And I usually follow snarky responses with a smile and then I give them a real answer as if to say, channeling my hero, Triumph the Insult Comic Dog,
"I kid! I kid!" (though Triumph would likely respond first by saying: "That's a good question.....TO POOP ON!").
Don't get me wrong: I have mostly bright and thoughtful students. But when I get questions like these, or I see that group in the back with their laptops open "IM-ing" each other (I can usually tell because they are typing away in short bursts even at times when I'm saying nothing particularly noteworthy...and sometimes they LOL, and I'm not that funny), I feel like one of those toy monkeys banging its little cymbals together, chattering and smiling like a fool.
** "Trinity is Covered in Bumblebees" (music by JNP, orchestration and arrangement on GarageBand by NNP).
Trinity has taken right to it. She is focused and enthusiastic. She's in love with the bar that they have set up about 2.5 feet off the ground and from which she can hang. Her other great love is the trampoline, and then comes getting thrown into the gigantic pit of large foam squares. In fact, the very idea of tumbling came from Trin's talent for crib jumping and general rolling about. Check her out:**
David, on the other hand, mostly wants to see what other people are doing. These other people are mostly girls between the ages of 8 and 17 who are flip-flopping all over the place at great speed, and he usually wants to get close to the action. Poor guy: at the rate he's going, he'll be trampled by a group of girls in leotards before his third birthday.
A student of mine is a former competitive gymnast, and while talking to her and her father about tumbling and gymnastics, I realized that I don't think I want either one of them to *really* pursue it. The combination of high cost and unholy hours, not to mention ghastly injuries for micro-miscalculations, and long-term ill-effects (my student tells me she can't bowl, for instance, because her arm pops out of it's socket on the backswing), leaves me less than enthused. Still, it's great to see them getting some focused instruction and having a blast at the same time. Plus, I would love for them to be able to do those high-speed handspring jobs that cover about 50 yards by the time they're done.
Frankly, I would love to be able to do that myself....just to change things up and develop a few tricks that would make an impression...maybe spice up the teaching routine.
Classes started for me last week and I have to admit to feeling a little less than enthused right off the bat. For one thing, I'm teaching three courses that I've taught many, many times before. I change things up as much as I can, just to keep myself interested, but there's only so much you can do sometimes. And each first day of class does tend to bring the same array of questions. Here are some of my favorites -- the ones that drive me batty:
* On the syllabus, if there is a reading listed on a certain day, does that mean we should have it read by that day, or do it on that day? (Honestly, I just don't understand this one.)
* My parents are flying me to London at the end of the semester. I leave on the day of the final, and that's the only flight they could get. Can I take the final early? (I'm always amazed just how poorly parents and their travel agents anticipate the final exam schedule).
* Will you tell us what is going to be on the quizzes? (My reply: "Questions that you need to answer.")
* Is there going to be extra credit? (My reply: "The fact that you are already preparing for the possibility of needing extra credit is a bad sign.")
And my all time favorite....
* Do I need to buy the books? (To which I typically answer, "I don't know. Do you?")
I probably sound like an ogre. I'm not. And I usually follow snarky responses with a smile and then I give them a real answer as if to say, channeling my hero, Triumph the Insult Comic Dog,
"I kid! I kid!" (though Triumph would likely respond first by saying: "That's a good question.....TO POOP ON!").
Don't get me wrong: I have mostly bright and thoughtful students. But when I get questions like these, or I see that group in the back with their laptops open "IM-ing" each other (I can usually tell because they are typing away in short bursts even at times when I'm saying nothing particularly noteworthy...and sometimes they LOL, and I'm not that funny), I feel like one of those toy monkeys banging its little cymbals together, chattering and smiling like a fool.
** "Trinity is Covered in Bumblebees" (music by JNP, orchestration and arrangement on GarageBand by NNP).
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