One Little Word

Yesterday evening my husband and I went to a dance lesson. The moment of leaving home is the hardest. After a long school day, the first one after the winter holidays, after having had dinner, and a piece of chocolate, after having experienced the comfort of the living room sofa, with books, Tv and phone competing for attention, the cold and dark outside are most uninviting, and both the body and mind protest loudly at the idea of getting up, getting dressed and getting out. I am thankful that my husband doesn't let me succumb to leisure.

Yesterday we practiced cha-cha. Having taken dance lessons for more than 15 year, one would think that we'd be masters in dancing. I dare to say that sometimes we do look and feel fabulous. Then again, if the lessons happen only once a week, there are ten different dances and the teacher keeps teaching new things, we often have the feeling that everything gets mixed up in our head and feet, and we have no clue where to step or turn. I am thankful that the teacher has patience to show the steps over and over, and lets us practice over and over, and suddenly everything clicks in place. I feel the rhythm, my feet and body move fast, and we go through the multi sequence routine without a glitch. I feel like a dance queen. 

Finishing the ninety minute lesson with the last cha-cha, slightly out of breath, sweat trickling done the back, muscles not usually in use loudly reminding of their existence, I thought of choosing cha-cha as my one little word. It has passion and beauty, and mastering its complexity gives such a satisfaction. It would go wonderfully with some of my previous words like "Cake" and "Strawberry" and "Spark". 

I'll keep that word as a supportive word, because another word had appeared in my writing when I was playing with the ideas in my journal, one that goes more with "What if" and "Dare" and "Thrive", a word that would help me to be strong. I need a strong word this year.

I wrote a list of words to show what I'd like to be: healthy, productive, creative, bold, compassionate, engaging, balanced, calm, systematic, joyful, dedicated, visible, thriving, generous. I realised that in front of many of the words I can put "I am" and the one word that needs more attention is "Bold". I wish to be more bold. I need to be more bold. 

To confirm my choice I checked the dictionary.

Bold - showing willingness to take risks, confident and courageous. Synonyms: adventurous, gutsy, daring, brave.  Sounds very much like what I need for this year.

Bold also means having strong, vivid or clear appearance, likely to attract attention, brilliant, eye-catching, remarkable. Sounds very much like cha-cha. 

Bold is my One Little word for this year. 

My previous OWL posts. 

reality check

Day 15 of March Slice of Life Story Challenge

Smooth and glamorous, my hubby and I lightly flow across the dance floor.  Imagining dressed in a romantic gown I feel like a fairy tale princess in a ballroom. Quick step music lifts us off the ground and we are eternally young.

We pass a window and I get a glimpse of an awkward middle aged couple dancing in a warn out school gym. Pop. The magic is broken. Reality kicks in. Who am I kidding. Yes, we know some steps, yes, we remember some routines, yes, we have practiced, but it's nothing like what you have seen in a ballroom. I think our teacher has to be permanently on painkillers to endure how far off we are from what she knows is a beautiful dance. We are like malfunctioning characters. When we remember toes, knees and hips, we forget the frame. When we get the frame and the steps right, we don't let the music bother us and dance to our own beat. It seems that we have limited dance memory and something is always erased when new information is added.

But whose there to judge? We are not competing. We are not aiming for a trophy. We are not planning to show our dance to anyone. 

Dancing, dancing, dancing. The two of us. For the fun of it. Let me live in my fairy tale.

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Like with dancing I am millions years off from what I wish I could do. And again, whose here to judge?

All I write are small snippets of my life, usually raw, composed in the head while walking to a train station or chopping carrots or washing dishes; typed between a dinner and evening news; rarely revised because revision time is luxury. I can honestly say that I don't have writerly agonizing pain from searching for the perfect idea, nor hour long battles with my inner critic, nor torturous headaches from chiselling delicate words. I can't afford it if I want to show up every day.

I am not trying to change the world. I don't strive for a Pulitzer prize.

I am not writing a book, not a short story, not even an article. 

My writing is for me and the small circle of friends in a writing community. My words send small ripples. Maybe a smile, a thought, an encouragement, a bit of inspiration.

Writing, writing, writing. For the fun of it. Let me live my creative life.

World has plenty of room for dancers and writers of all kind. 

happy mom moment

When my daughter is on the dance floor, I have eyes only for her. Graceful and beautiful, magnificent and powerful - her dance takes my breath away.

Yesterday my daughter participated in the Estonian Championship in Standard dances. My hubby, my youngest daughter, my sis and I had come to support her.  The semi-final of Youth 2 had 10 couples. Since she has danced with her new partner only for seven months, we didn't know what to expect. We rejoiced when they got to the finals.

Three hours to wait before the finals. We watched other semi-finals: the little kids, juniors, seniors, youth, adults. Slow waltz, tango, Vienna waltz, foxtrot, quickstep. Again, and again and again. The music is loud, mixed with the clapping and cheering. The light and the colors, the movement can make the head spin. Sitting for hours on a bench during a dance competition tests patience and tortures the body. The whole event is a mixture of high positive emotions and the wish to escape.

When my daughter was back on the dance floor with five other couples for the five final dances, every fiber of my body is filled with hope and worry and admiration. Mostly admiration. Dance is a sport. Hours and hours of practice, sweat and pain, to leave an impression of flying to the music. Five short dances doesn't seem like much, but it takes a lot of strength and stamina. And when the dances are over, the couples smile and bow, walk off the floor, reach for the water bottles, wipe sweat from their necks and breathe deeply. They have done their best and now all is left is to wait for the results.

When all finals are over, everyone awaits for the award ceremony.
The six finalist couples march to the floor. The hosts start announcing the results from the sixth place.
I can feel my heart pounding, I am ready for her to be the sixth but hope for better. The sixth place was not her, the fifth place was not her. My heart speeds up and smile spreads. She has already done way better than she hoped for. Fourth place. Not her. Third place - her name is announced. She and her partner beam with happiness.
My daughter and her partner won bronze medals in Estonian Championship U21 group for Standard Dances. My heart waltzes.

With a different partner she got a fourth place two years ago, and then they won the championship in 10-dances. They danced for one more year and then her partner decided to stop dancing Standard and focus on Latin only. For more than half a year my daughter was without partner. She could have stopped. She did not give up. She did not stop dancing. My daughter has impressed me over and over with her determination and dedication.

Day 3: What's your hobby?

Join the March Slice of Life Story Challenge at Two Writing Teachers. 

"What are your hobbies? What do you like to do?" I ask the four women sitting with me. We know each other for a short time from a course. So far the conversations have centered around education. Now, during lunch, between a lecture and group work, I'd like to get to know these women a bit more. 

Monika, a vice principal of a small city school, puts down her fork and her face lights up, "I love plants. My home looks like a jungle. I live in an apartment house but I have a flower bed behind the house. I have brought tens of plants to school."

"My whole family is into tennis. We play at least twice a week. My husband and I played already before the kids were born. Now both boys, 5 and 8, play too," Karmen, a principal of a large city school, reveals to us.

Aivi, a principal of two country schools, smiles "I am part of two folk dance groups. I dance alone in the women group and with my husband in the mixed group."

"I used to dance, but not anymore," Kaia, a teacher trainer, chimes in, "Now I am part of a puppet theatre group. It's super fascinating. What about yourself?"

"My husband and I have taken ballroom dancing lessons for more than 10 years. And I write," I share.

Having a hobby is vital for a teacher and school leader. Endless demands and issues, the cycle of planning and reflecting, thousand elements to think about, and mostly the relationships can keep the mind and heart occupied for hours and hours and hours.  Passionate educators could easily become consumed, burnt, swallowed by their jobs. For the sake of health they need to step out of school life and open up for something completely unrelated. Besides health benefits a hobby makes people more interesting. 

What's your hobby? 

Week in the life: Monday

If you are not here for the first time, then you certainly know what Slice of Life is. Many wonderful people gather to share bits and pieces, the small and the grand of their life.

Have you heard of Ali Edward's Week in the Life project? I had not heard of it ever before until Stacey shared a link to Our Days are Built with Stories.

Not that I need any challenges or projects right now, but you know, sometimes you simply want to try something. I'd like to try this. Or at least so I thought when I first read about the idea. It would be interesting to use my camera more and in addition to Tuesday and Saturday blog posts to capture a week of my life. I am not officially joining a community or a gallery, no linking, no scrapbook art, but simply experimenting with pics and words.

It all started well. I had my camera with me yesterday.
I kind of forgot to take pictures. I took two during a break at school, I asked my middle one to take a picture on our way home, and took a few more at home.
Today I had my camera but didn't take any pictures until I got home.

Maybe that's my story. My school days are so busy that I simply forget to take pictures. Or maybe I am just not intentional enough with photographing yet. (I love the "yet" - it promises change if I want to.)

Here is my story of Monday with pics and words:

I got up at 5:45 and was at school at 7:30. This was before the students arrived. It was the first day back from the fall break.

I am a teacher through and through. I live and breathe as a teacher. I love being a teacher. I don't mind a  bit of mess in class when it shows that the kids are so engaged in learning that  a break comes as a surprise.

When the kids leave, I have (like every teacher) many things to do, but before I do anything I sit down with a cup of water or a cup of tea and breathe. The moment to breathe helps to restore energy and sort thoughts.
(I don't get everything done at school. To be honest I never get everything I wish done - it is simply not possible - the expectations, new things I have learned, and my own dreams are bigger than time ever permits to accomplish. Quite often my creative juices for planning, reflecting, writing for a classroom blog, and flow for PD reading are best outside the school environment.)

Taking a picture and driving is a safety hazard. I am happy my middle daughter was with me yesterday.  She found it strange but didn't question much when I asked her to take a picture. It's a pity that the horses that we usually pass on our way home were not out.
I don't like driving but I have to. It takes about forty minutes for me to get home. Majority of the drive is outside the city. Gray, dark, and wet, depressingly sad is the view on an October afternoon. (I should do one Week in the Life in spring to capture the light green leaves and bright blue sky.) But it is even worse - pitch dark and slippery - in the middle of the winter.
When you are stuck with a situation you don't like, you have to look for something positive. A drive home gives time to compose blog posts and plan dinner.

 The carpet rolled off the floor, school things scattered all over, music blaring - my daughter and her friend were practicing a dance for a class party. The life in the living room makes my daughter happy. She loves company. After a long day at school I prefer silence. When I have to choose between my comfort and a happy child dancing the last one always wins. The children grow toooo fast.

Two pairs of worn dance shoes get excited to get out each Monday. Even though it's cold outside and comfy warm at home and we know our bodies will ache and muscles will be sore, my husband and I pack our shoes and head to a ballroom dance lesson. Week after week, year after year.
We have no desire to compete with anyone nor to show off our skills, we don't even go out dancing other than occasional weddings or jubilees of relatives or friends, yet we keep returning to the lessons and our teacher is continuously happy to see us and optimistic enough to add new complicated steps and routines to our repertoire.
I have discovered that I can be impatient and get easily frustrated when our steps get mixed up, thoughts tangled and we have to stop in the middle of the dance. I have learned to tame my reactions and facial expressions. I know my appreciation should always overweigh my desire to master what is taught. As long as I remember this we smile more, laugh at our mistakes and enjoy dancing.
Being together is what matters the most. Yesterday we were awesome doing our new samba routine.

I was in bed by ten o'clock.

What does a mother of a champion feel?

I don't think there is one exact word to describe what I feel.
Saying the words feels strange: My daughter won 10-dance Estonian Championship (U21).
I'd like to put it in bold because it is so magnificent:
My daughter won 10-dance Estonian Championship (U21).

We were all over the moon when she became 4th in Estonian Championship for Standard Dances. It was achievement beyond our dreams.

This Monday we had mixed hopes and fears when we started the day.
We hoped that they would at least get to the finals, but we were ready for them to be left out, because I had seen some bad dancing two days ago. Besides their Latin has always been weaker than standard.
We were ready to support Marianne no matter what and we planned to enjoy the hours and hours of dancing. This time we came as a team of supporters. Besides my husband and I, my sister came (she had been there when Marianne placed 4th), grandmother (who had seen Marianne dancing last time when she was 13), and sisters (the middle one was last time to the competitions when Marianne was in fourth grade.) We joked that Marianne came with a driver (dad), a sponsor (me), a seamstress (my sister), a landlady (grandma), and cheerleaders (sisters.) We also joked how we should all go and watch the middle one at her programming competitions. I could glue shiny stones into her hair, she could wear sister's fake eyelashes, and in between programming commands, she should shoot us a smile and strike a pose.
We laughed.
We waited.
Marianne danced the five  Latin dances.
We watched.
We waited.
Marianne danced the five Standard dances.
We watched.
We waited.
For my eye the couple was powerful and beautiful and looked amazing. But I was not a judge. There was no way telling what the judges thought.
We waited.
What a relief it was to see her name listed for the finals. But we still didn't know how they compared to others. Did they go in as last or first or middle?

credit to pics: my sis

Then it was three hours waiting before the finals.
Kids, seniors, juvenile 1, juvenile 2, youth 1, seniors all danced before it was time for U21 final. I  held my breath and my heart skipped beats when she danced.
Quick change of clothes and the final five dances.
A relief, that the dancing was over, was followed with anticipation.

When the finalists marched to the floor and the places were called, I was sincerely happy she wasn't last. When the final three were left, I was happy she would get a medal. When the final two were waiting, I stopped thinking. I did not dare to hope. The whole situation was unbelievable already. When the other couple was called for the silver, I was dumbfounded.

My daughter had won 10-dance Estonian Championship (U21)

As I said, I don't think there is one exact word to describe what I feel now. Some people ask whether I am proud. I know that Marianne should feel proud. She achieved this result with years of hard work.
I feel joy for her achieving one of her dreams. I feel admiration for her determination and dedication. I feel peaceful because I know my daughter is a young woman who will dream, work for her dreams, and not give up when faced with difficulties.

I still worry whether she would stay healthy, find love, choose a good university, select a profession that gives her joy. I know I have to let go. As with dancing, at first we were very involved, making sure she had what she needed, sending her to trainings, transporting her to competitions, giving her speeches about importance of practice, trying the best, accepting failure and setbacks. At some point we didn't matter that much any more. We thought that she might as well quit, she had danced for years, it was time and money consuming, and she wasn't happy with one of her partners and results. She didn't quit. She knew what she wanted. She made decisions about her life. And right ones as we found out.

I also feel puzzled how it is possible that my little girl has grown up.

Below is a link to my Picasa albums with short videos about her dances. We totally have forgotten to video her, because the dancing is so mesmerizing. These tiny clips are filmed with a phone with little memory space. Click on one of the icons to see the videos.

short videos

Celebrate this week

Ruth Ayres invites people to share a celebration every Saturday. Thinking back to a week you can pick anything - small or big - to celebrate.

I celebrate dancing. 

I celebrate my oldest daughter dancing. 
We have had a week long celebration of her success. Looking at the pictures taken from the Estonian Championship, hand-washing the dress that she danced in at the finals, marking new competitions to our family calendar, watching the finals on the TV today - everything reminds me of the joy we felt last Saturday. Setting goals for herself, not giving up and hard work have got her where she is now. 

  

I celebrate my middle daughter not dancing. I celebrate that she is being herself and not dancing, even when every other family member is. She does what she likes - art, chemistry, swimming, and programming. I know that when it comes to competing in programming the gender doesn't matter, but I think it is pretty amazing to know that she is one of the best girls among 11th and 12th graders in Estonia.  This week she got an invitation to visit The University of Tartu together with other students who will soon participate in the country wide programming competition. She is good at programming because she loves it and doesn't mind giving up her free time to learn and practice some more. 

I celebrate dancing with my youngest daughter. 

Two years ago our family got WII Just Dance 2. My oldest daughter and I kept dancing and trying to beat our own scores. We made sure we didn't dance each other's dances. Mimm had her own favorites and no one was allowed to try those, so she would have some high scores in her name. This week she borrowed Just Dance 2014 from her friend. She already danced last week with her friends and continued dancing this week every day after school. You can  probably guess where this story is heading. Yes. No matter how I tried this week, Mimm beat every single of my score with ease. She is finally getting the lesson that we have not been better at dancing or other things because we are older or more talented, we have been better so far because we have had more practice.  

I celebrate dancing with my husband. 

Every Monday, no matter what the weather or how tired we are, we take our dance shoes and head to a dance lesson. It has been long enough for us to know the basics and some figures well, yet once a week is not enough to remember all the combinations and sequences we learn and practice. In the lesson it seems that we get it, we feel we can do it, we dance. After a week we kind of know we learned something and with some review remember. If for some reason a lesson is canceled, then after two weeks the steps are erased from our brain. We sometimes laugh that when everyone else dances this season's sequences, then our brain and muscle memory takes us back to the routines we learned three years ago. We are not aiming for a championship, but for comfort and joy. This Monday we practiced cuban rumba. We didn't do exactly what the teacher expected, but we didn't stop, and combined different steps. It felt good. We trust each other and forgive the mistakes.  

I celebrate dancing with my students. Our current unit of inquiry is "Let' Dance" (Central idea: Dance is an art form that allows people to express ideas, feelings, and beliefs through the movement of body. Inquiry into: different genres/forms of dance; elements of dance; how to use a body as a medium of expression; the rhythm of music, the natural rhythms of our bodies and the environment around us) For the final project the kids have to create a dance. The past week they took turns teaching the steps they had created for the music they had chosen. We danced every day. Even the reluctant ones dared to show what they had thought of. We are nowhere close to finishing and perfecting the dance yet, but we have had a blast. The photo I took is blurry because of all the movement, but I believe the joy is still visible. We have had fun learning because every one has been willing to take risks and work  as a team.

I celebrate a dance-like partnership with my friend.  Yesterday after school we gave an overview of our reading and writing program to 23 members of Estonian Reading Association. Most of them were workshop leaders, one was our former professor, one was the head of the Reading Association. We were prepared and felt at ease. We have conducted workshops and presented together before. When we talk, it almost feels like we are one. We can stop in mid sentence and the other one continues, we know exactly when to slow down or when to speed up, we have rhythm and flow, and we express positive emotions. We have reached this level of confidence because we constantly nudge each other to grow, spend time together after school to prepare, and always support each other.

Celebrate! Dance! Write!  

Celebrate this week

Thank you Ruth Ayres for this invitation to celebrate. 

It's ten minutes away from midnight and I just arrived home, but I can't skip this celebration. I want to shout to the whole world how happy I am for my oldest daughter. 

She won a fourth place in Estonian Championship in standard dances in Youth II age group.

Let me say it again, because it still sounds unbelievable and amazing and incredible: My daughter, my first, my oldest, got the fourth place in Estonian Championship in standard dances.

Some key words for those who do not know dance sport.

There are age groups: kids, junior I, junior II, youth I, youth II, adults and seniors. My daughter is almost 19 and is in youth II.

There are levels: beginners, E, D, C, B, A and S being the highest. You get from one level to the other when you have collected certain amount of points from competitions. My daughter is level B.

During competitions there are quarter-finals, semi-finals, and only the six best get to the finals. In each round the dancers have to dance five dances.

The power and beauty and emotion that my daughter and her partner showed on the dance floor got them to the finals. This was such an achievement and beyond any hopes and expectations they had set for themselves, being realistic about their B level. They were winners already. When during the award ceremony they were called to the fourth place - I can't describe the leaps and summersaults of joy my heart was doing. 

My daughters achievement is a result of dedication and hard work - 11 years of dancing, currently 5 times a week and some extra. She has some difficult times behind, when her previous partner quit dancing and then for a year she danced with a boy who was not ready for B level yet. There were tears, but my daughter didn't quit. With her new partner she started dancing half a year ago. They have practiced, practiced, practiced. Today they shone!

Let me say it again, because it still sounds unbelievable and amazing and incredible: My daughter, my first, my oldest, got a fourth place in Estonian Championship in standard dances.

pic by my sister

I am not a dance mom

I am not a dance-mom. I am a mom. I dance. I have supported my eldest daughter in dancing for  eleven years. But I am not a dance-mom. It's not good or bad, just a statement. I came to this realization one Sunday, when sitting for hours on the most uncomfortable wooden benches at a dance sport competition had sucked all the energy out of me.

You wouldn’t recognize a dance-mom by just her looks. The shape and size don’t matter. Some are skinny, in high heels, with fashion magazine clothes and glossy make-up. Some may be small and boyish, in torn jeans and T-shirt. Others may be plump, long woolen sweater wearing, needing a haircut, down to earth women.

You have to look for the other signs.

They are present at all the competitions, even twice a month if necessary. Their dedication impresses me. This was my first competition this year.

When they get together, they first chat with the coaches. Then they share the latest news with each other. They know exactly which couples have quit dancing, which place each couple is in the ranking table, who has changed partners or who has a new dress. I know my daughter got a new partner, but I still may get his name wrong, I believe it starts with R or may-be S.

When the couples are dancing, the dance-moms stand next to the floor stretching their bodies almost to the point that if they stretched some more they would fall over. Or they clutch tightly to their cameras or I-Pads to record every move, facial expressions and drop of sweat. The super moms have lungs strong enough to shout their child’s name through the booming music. I straighten myself on the bench and clap when my daughter finishes each dance in her finals.

In between the rounds these moms can shoot hairspray on a go or pin hair from a distance. From their bags they can pull out a pair of scissors to cut off loose feathers, a needle to fix a ribbon, or a glue bottle to add some sparkly stones. And when they see someone from the judges’ table with a piece of paper in her hand, they sprint to get the freshest results. I guard my daughter’s bag and hand her a water bottle when she comes.

I still have no clue how the judges can give different points to all those amazing couples, whose feet don’t even touch the floor when they dance, or who can bend their bodies against human anatomy, or whose spectacular looks may compete with the sun. I can’t judge others. I have eyes only for my daughter. She is the most beautiful woman on the floor, and the years of practice allow her to perform with admirable grace and strength.  I am not a dance-mom, but I am a loving and proud mom of a Dancer.

I am glad someone else has taken photos of my daughter.

a secret book of dance teachers

"It's cold."
"Very cold and snowing."
"I'm tired."
"I'm very sleepy."
"I have work to do."
"I have a bit of a back pain."
Long pause.
"Are you saying we should stay home?"
"Are you saying we should skip a lesson?"
Another long pause.
"No. We should go."
"I know."
And we go.
Every Monday, no matter what the weather is like, or how tired we are, my husband and I go to dance (ballroom) lessons. For years now.

I am convinced that there is a secret book for dance teachers. Not the one with fancy pictures and perfect moves and vocabulary. There is another one, with little messages on how to manage adult learners. I have not seen the book, but in the many years I have been able to infer some secrets.

Some advice from there:
1. Start slow and make the learners believe that they can actually learn to dance. Only when you are completely sure that they won't quit, you can show how their moves look compared to the expected ones. (My husband and I realized rather quickly that we would never learn it the right way. We started at the same time as our daughter. It is a serious sport, and it takes several lessons a week to achieve quality. If you dance for years once a week, you will go beyond the basic and occasionally it may be possible to pretend to strangers that you know what you do. )
2. You should be aware that people over thirty five may not be able to memorize rhythm, posture, steps, hands, toes, knees, head and hips at the same time. Focus on few at the time. Keep coming back. Don't loose hope. (Top grades for this to our teacher. It is actually very cute when she, over and over again, teaches us some new moves, and then reminds us to also use the basic techniques we have practiced and practiced. Our head can take only so much. We absolutely forget about the knees and toes when we try to memorize the different figures.) 
3. You can try to teach middle aged Estonian men how to move their hips, but be ready to suppress your laughter when you see them trying to do it. (I have to say that our teacher has been very good with this. The women in the lesson - not so good. We chuckle.)
4. Make sure that in between the dances you give some background knowledge or theoretical tips, so the dancers can rest. (We had a substitute teacher one day, and he did not follow that rule. We were exhausted and ached all over later. Good exercise though.)
5. Use the right vocabulary but allow the dancers to make up their own. (May-be there are people who can memorize all the terms, or even better, they learn the steps and the man leads without words. We are different. We have our own cue words to use. Without them, I could easily do opposite to my husband's intentions. Sometimes, when he tries to push me in a certain direction, I simply push back. Agreeing on what we do next helps us to look like a couple, not individual performers who hold hands. Some words from our vocabulary: float, glide, pull the carpet, roll me, shake hands, limp, chick-pum-paa.)
5. If it seems that they start feeling too comfortable and content, teach them some new moves to confuse them. (I believe that this is the golden rule of the dance teachers. Whenever my husband and I feel that "Wow. We can dance!" the teacher teaches us something new and everything seems falls apart. No surprise that we keep going back to the lessons.)

I am sure that there are some other rules that I haven't figured out yet. I will continue dancing to find out more.



dance slice 2011
dance slice 2012

Quickstep

Chasse, pivot. Pause. Slow, quick, quick. Pause. Left, left, right. Pause. Turn, quick, quick, quick, quick. Pause. Turn. Lock, lock, done.*

I did it. I am right in the position I should be.

So is my husband on the other side of the room. Few men in the line are switching their legs.

The teacher shows the steps in slow motion again.

Time to try with my husband. Left hand on his shoulder, right hand in his hand stretched to the side, back straight, chin held high and we are ready to start.

Chasse, pivot. Pause. Slow, quick, quick. Pause. Left, left....

I knew my steps. Dancing together we get on each other's way.

Lets try it again.

Chasse, pivot. Slow, quick, quick. Left, left, right. Pause. Turn, quick, quick, quick, quick. Pause. Turn. Lock, lock, done.

One more time.

Chasse, pivot. Slow, quick, quick. Left, left, right. Turn, quick, quick, quick, quick. Turn. Lock, lock, done.

We did it! We did it! We did it!

Now with music, please.

Chasse, pivot. Slow, quick, quick. Left, left, right. Turn, quick, quick, quick. Stop.

We have no idea what we are doing. "Quick" in practice and "quick" in music are two different terms.

We'll try again. And again. And again.

We get frustrated, we want to give up, we'd like to blame the partner, we'd like to complain that the routine is too complicated, we are sure we can never remember the steps.

We don't say anything. We just practice. We know that the negative phase is just part of the process.

Music, please!

Chasse, pivot. Slow, quick, quick. Left, left, right. Pause. Turn, quick, quick, quick, quick. Pause. Turn. Lock, lock. Slow, quick, quick, pivot. V6. Slow, quick, quick.

We dance.

* I may be mistaken with some names of the steps but that is how I memorized them in the dance lesson last evening. It is very likely that the teacher will correct me next Monday. That is ok. She knows us, we know her. For 8 years already.

Last year's dance slice.

Pain behind the scene

I had finished reading the bed time story for my youngest daughter (6) when I heard my middle daughter (15) talking on a phone and approaching my bedroom.

“Are you awake enough to talk to your sister?” She didn’t wait for the answer and handed me the phone.

“ Where have you been wandering around?” I asked my sister because I hadn’t been able to reach her earlier.

“Where, where,” came a grumpy voice, “I have been sitting in the emergency room with your oldest daughter (16).

“What!?” In a millisecond I was widely awake, sitting straight, and an array of possible accidents running through my mind. It had been only a month since she had moved to live with my mom in the city.  

“Don’t worry. Her trainer sent her because her big toenail on the right foot was so loose she couldn’t put her shoes on. They took the whole nail off.”

It took effort to protect my mind from the disgusting image.

“Now what?”

“It will take at least a year for the nail to grow back. She can go back to training when the skin has healed enough.”

Dear reader, next time you see ballroom dancers gliding to the floor think about the following:

Behind the beautiful light and sparkly dance is two hours of practice five times a week; remembering 10 different dances with innumerable figures; at least an hour and half preparing the hair and make-up; occasionally hurting knees, back and neck;  always present scratches, bruises, and blisters; and possibly a missing toe nail.

Cha-cha challenge

Cha-cha-cha, two-three, cha-cha-cha, two-three - the music plays, and we are ready to dance. Almost every Monday for seven years, my husband and I pack our dance shoes and go to a lesson. We have come a long way. We can recognize the music for waltz, Vienna waltz, tango, quickstep, slow fox, cha-cha, samba, jive, and Cuban rumba. Not do we only recognize them, but can start at the right beat, know all the basic steps, and can do some nifty figures. Our teacher thinks that we are capable of more, so she expects us to memorize strings of figures, and perform them with appropriate technique. As a couple we have come to a realization that we might be dancically challenged (my diagnosis). Especially with Latin dances.
We are tall stoic Estonians. We need time to think and process, so once locked in a frame we can rather safely glide over the dance floor in 1-2-3 of waltz. Speed up the music and suggest we move our hips, lift heels, stretch our toes, and straighten our knees after every step - I am sorry, we are both over 35 (not saying how much), you might have a better chance with bears.
I had you fooled when you thought that my husband leads me. I am a teacher, I like to be in lead. We gave a secret code to all the figures and I whispered them to his ear, giving him enough time to be prepared. He kept counting the rhythm. Now the dances are so complicated I can barely remember my steps. Left foot, right foot, turn, switch hands, go backward, turn right - oh no, turn left.
Fine. We'll do it again. And again. And again. Cha-cha-cha, two-three, cha-cha-cha, two-three.
Wow. We did it! The whole dance - without stopping. I guess my diagnosis was wrong.