We held our third and last pre-Michaelmas Dance workshop yesterday, and I was delighted with it. For one thing, we had 8 women (and girls) to 11 men (and boys), a workable ratio. For another, I taught an addition to the basic waltz step (heel forward, toe back) and could see people getting it. (Incidentally, first-timers thus got to learn the frame and box step.) For yet another, I didn’t have to teach much, for our professional swing teachers gave us an hour’s lesson, and then a MMWP Committee member led us through Scotland’s beloved St. Bernard’s Waltz.
But before these lessons was The Exercise, as I’ve taken to calling it. The Exercise involves the ladies sitting along the side of one wall, looking nonchalant, while the gentlemen cross the room to stick their hands out and ask them to dance. In 2.5 hours of skill-testing stuff, The Exercise is for beginners the most difficult. The ladies might say “Yes,” or the ladies might say “No,” and either answer can be alarming. But whatever the ladies say, the gentlemen perceive that they are still alive after hearing the response.
I was convinced of the efficacy of The Exercise by one of our thirty-something members, who revealed that asking women to dance was difficult for him until he got used to it. It’s a challenge, I perceived, and what could be more traditional than offering young men a challenge? Asking a woman to dance (or for a coffee) is very hard for a lot of chaps, so the more practice they get, the better. (And here I am reminded of the wonderful Dr. Kerry Kronin, whom I met many years ago, who fought hook-up culture on campus by assigning her students the extra-credit task of going on a date. I see the girls had to ask, too, which is does not align with my beliefs, but at least it teaches girls how gut-wrenchingly scary asking can be.)
That young men of my faith community are now adept at asking women to dance makes me very happy. In fact, one of my favourite moments at any dance party is seeing them crisscross the floor towards the girls. And one of my favourite reports from ladies of other parishes is that they were surprised and delighted by these solicitations. Some of them had never been asked to dance before.
In contrast, girls from my community report back about local Catholic ceilidhs where “our own boys” are largely absent. Some Catholic university-age men are so reluctant to ask the girls around to dance a reel that they ask each other . Surprisingly, it is not a recent phenomenon: a history of ballroom dancing in Edinburgh reports that a dance hall in Portobello stipulated that gentlemen could not ask other gentlemen to dance if there were any ladies still available.
All the same, it makes me feel very old. In my university days, I think I saw a man partner-dance with a man only once, and that was after a same-sex couple invaded my friends’ downtown wedding. The groom’s friends rolled up their sleeves, but he himself was a pacific chap and was distressed when the invaders ran away.
Of course, I have parties in which there are so few ladies that I have to beg tradition-minded young men to pair up for ceilidh dances, reminding them (again) that these began as soldiers’ dances, and that Oor Ain whiled away their time in Black Forest POW camps creating new reels for them to dance to. To be honest, this has limited success among traditional Catholic men (especially when Polish), but if any of my sisters in dance-organising face the same problem, pairing up brothers usually works.
Speaking of brothers, our youngest-ever, and his younger sister, made their (short) debut at last week’s workshop and stayed the course at yesterday’s. The Littles are currently of such a height that they can dance comfortably only with each other, although they bravely (and under the oversight of their older siblings) took part in Strip the Willow.
It was so much fun to see how much fun the Littles were having, despite being surrounded by giants. In fact, it reminded me of our Christmas party, when I just threw waltzes out the window for the sake of tiny new terpsichoreans dancing with their parents.
I am now close to tears thinking about how much I love big Catholic families, so now I shall stop writing and clean out the spare room for the advent of our guest chanteuse. Montreal’s Alisha Ruiss arrives on Wednesday and will be performing at the Michaelmas Dance. (No tickets will be sold at the door, so buy yours today by sending me an email!)
Incidentally, here’s a lovely article by an American priest (a former Episcopalian) about teaching formal dances to youngsters.