Teaching Salsa To Kids
I sometimes teach salsa to adults. I often come at it from an emotional support role, rather than as a technical dance teacher. I have learned that for many full sized humans, the idea of learning a dance is on par with sky diving or public speaking. It’s filled with all the terror, but none of the actual risk. It’s only me and said person in the room, and, yet, I often witness the five stages of grief and a min-dark-night-of-the-soul before they break through to “oh ,wait, this is fun!” Nobody dies, but maybe a layer of ego and shame.
Last week I taught salsa dancing to kids at church summer camp. The kids came in three groups: Kindergarten, 6 to 8-year-olds, and 10 to 12-year-olds. (The 9 to 10-years olds went to the beach, thank God). As expected the Kindergartners had the attention span of a flea and the steps I showed somehow evolved into cartwheels. Also, Baby Shark is a thing and made up the bulk of their musical tastes.
The older kids broke down into two groups: those excited to dance and those who sat the whole thing out, only to later wistfully watched their less self-conscious classmates. All the girls danced, while many of the boys looked around wistfully.
The last group were the golden age group: the 2nd to 3rd graders. All the passion and curiosity with none of the self-consciousness.
When I asked the kids to break out into a line of followers and leaders, most of the girls went to the leader line and, with one exception, the boys went to the follower line. I showed them the step for each group and asked them to find a partner from the opposite line.
“Wait, aren’t they doing the boys part?” asked one boy.
“That’s what a leader does,” I explained. “What we call the ‘boys part,’ but we don’t have rules here.”
At this point, he and some of the male followers switched to the leader line.
“Ok, now everyone find a partner,” I said.
Everyone chose a same-sex partner. That is, except for my partner, Dustin.
Dustin not only had the footwork down but already could move his arms and upper body. He looked ecstatic, like I had invited him to Disneyland. My friend told me that he had had a rough time fitting in at the camp. And then came salsa. Dustin is a dancer.
“How did that feel,” I asked after we first danced the steps to music.
“I was so scared I thought I was going to throw up!” said one kid. “But then it got really fun!”
This is why I love kids.
(Not really, but I am not allowed to post pictures of them)