Beginners’ workshops
adapted from several
posts over the years about how to bring newcomers into the dancing
Many dance communities
include a session beforehand explicitly aimed at newcomers. During this time
(half an hour or more in some locations), the usual pattern is to lead folks
through a series of figures to prepare them for the dances to come.
The argument is that
newbies need to know this information, and that a beginners session is the best
way for them to learn it. My own experience learning contras came in an era
when there were no beginners’ sessions, so that’s certainly influenced my
approach. I think the best way is for the caller to plan a program carefully,
introducing basic figures at the start of the evening and teaching more
complicated movements, such as a hey for four, when the beginners can be
assisted by more experienced dancers on the floor.
A beginners’ session also
sends a message that This Is Complicated, that you need a special workshop to
learn what you need to know, and without that extra training a) you won’t be
able to do it or b) you’ll mess up the evening for others.
I have a somewhat
different approach that I take when I do a short beginners’ session at my home
dance. I think the most important things folks need to know are the rules of
this alien subculture into which they’ve stepped, so here’s what I try to do.
If there are a handful of new faces in the hall, I’ll talk to them
individually, welcome them, introduce myself, reassure them, and explain that
we’re not going to hold a separate session but to line up for the first dance
at 8 PM. (I may also point them out to some supportive and strong dancers who
have already arrived, folks who will take the lead in approaching the newcomers
and welcoming them in for the first dance.) If we have half a dozen or more new
folks at 7:45 or thereabouts, I’ll gather folks near the center of the floor,
close to me, away from the eight-member band that’s still fussing with tuning
and playing snatches of tunes. I don’t use a microphone; I want folks to stay
close to me. I tell them a few things about the evening to come. First of all,
I thank them for coming.
I often think in terms of providing an overview of the
sociological/anthropological subgroup that they’ve just entered. We dancers
have our own norms, rituals, procedures—think “intense eye contact”
for example—and they can seem off-putting to folks who haven’t been inculcated
in our ways. So, I talk about the general structure of the evening’s program
(“We start with simple dances where I can teach some basic figures, so
please, please, please join in those first few dances! I know, the tendency we
all have is to sit and watch a bit, but it’ll be easier for me and for you if
you join in at the start. Later in the evening, we’ll build on those simple
figures and add some more.”)
I talk about how every dance is taught and walked through, and how
I’ll continue to prompt them. (“You don’t have to memorize everything
because I’ll keep reminding you from the microphone after the music
starts.”)
I talk about the social norms at our dance: men ask women, women ask
men, some people ask same sex partners, most people switch partners for the
next dance, you don’t have to already know a person to ask them to dance…
“We’re fortunate at our dance to have many experienced dancers”—and
some of them are joining the group by now, hearing what I say, and this part of
my spiel is aimed as much at those folks as at the newcomers—”who love
coming to this dance because they know there will be new dancers here. We all
learned to do this kind of dancing through the kindness of strangers. It’s
likely that someone will come up to you early in the evening and ask you to
dance. You may feel you need to explain that you’re new, that you don’t know
what you’re doing. Believe me, they already know that! [generally provokes
laughter] That’s why they asked you to dance!”
“As you and your partner move up and down the line”—point
to UP and DOWN—”each time through the dance you’ll be interacting with a
new set of neighbors. If the dance involves a neighbor swing, you’ll find
yourself swinging with lots of different folks. Every so often, you’ll find
yourself swinging with someone and it feels really smooth! Take a good look at
that person… they’d be a good person to ask to dance.”
Some comments about the overall structure of the evening—overall
schedule, polkas and waltzes and other couple dances, break, location of
drinking fountain and bathrooms.
Perhaps a comment about the usual way to line up in long lines, with
a request to join the lines near the top of the set (more pointing out where
that is) “because that way I can see you more clearly and help you out if
I need to explain things again.”
I demonstrate what to do when you’re thoroughly confused in the middle
of a dance, “because it happens to all of us! When all else fails, here’s
the fallback defensive position: Smile, keep your eyes alert, and hold both
hands out like this. It’s easier for others to take your hand to get you where
you need to be.”
“The best dancers here”—and again, this really is aimed at
the more experienced folks who have joined us, in the guise of a comment to the
newcomers—”will get you where you need to be without your even knowing
that they did anything. With those dancers who aren’t quite as skilled, you may
notice a subtle gesture or pointing with the head. And of course, there are
bound to be some folks who tug or give you a gentle push… they’re trying to
help as best as they can.” [The message here to experienced dancers:
“See if you can find more subtle ways of helping out.”]
Throughout all this, my goal is to let the newcomers get a sense of
me as a person: I’m the caller, I know what I’m doing, I am glad that they’re
there, I will take care of them, and I can be trusted. I want gto reassure them
that they made the right decision to come, that they won’t get in the way of
the regular dancers.
“Some of you might be thinking, ‘Oh, I don’t want to ruin it for
everyone.’ All I can say is that you have a very healthy ego, thinking that you
yourself have the power to ruin the evening for one hundred others!” This
usually provokes another laugh.
I may say a few things about how to move, demonstrate simple walking
to the music (while humming Arkansas Traveler or Turkey in the Straw or some
other tune that they’ll have heard). “That’s Forward 2 3 pause, and Back 2
3 4. You’ll notice I’m just walking, one step on each beat, not doing anything
fancy. [break into caricature of vigorous jigging] If you find yourself doing
this, you’ve been watching Riverdance too much. This is New England style
dancing… we believe in conserving energy up here. No need to tire yourself
all out with extra flourishes. Keep it simple!”
Demonstrate a straightforward dosido: “You may see folks on the
floor doing all manner of extra twirls during this figure, like this. Don’t
worry about that… those are probably hard-core dancers who need the extra
twirling to get as dizzy as they want. If you’re new to this, you’ll find that
you’re already dizzy enough!”
Finish up with “thanks for coming. When I look out at a dance
floor and know everyone there, it’s a sign that a dance is in trouble. What
makes this series work is the infusion of newcomers like you. We have beginners
here, we have folks who dance a lot. We have people of all ages, and you should
know that some of the kids, those youngsters you see over there and those
teenagers, really know what they’re doing, so let them help you! We’re really
glad to see you and we hope you have a great time.”
That can all be done in 10 minutes and then we can start the
evening’s dancing.
Do I do this every time? No, but this is certainly the most common
set of things I cover. Sometimes I ask a fiddler from the band to come out and
we’ll move a little to music so folks can step to the beat, but even then I
rarely teach figures and I never try to teach things like “hey for
four” during a beginners’ session. I think it’s much more effective to
teach figures when the newcomers are mixed up with more experienced dancers in
the lines, where they can see good styling and learn by doing. If I have
a few minutes left, I use it to chat up some experienced dancers in the hall
and ask them to invite in the newcomers for the first few dances.
As a result, the dance is known as a great place for dancers to get
started. In fact, one hard-core dance gypsy told me that he wasn’t going to
come to the dances any more. He wanted more complicated figures early in the
evening (“I don’t see why you don’t start off with a hey for four? They
need to learn it!”) and “you’re catering too much to the
beginners.” If that’s my reputation, I’m comfortable with it.