bad dance students

All This to Avoid the “F” Word

I like to think I’m a good teacher.  I’m encouraging.  I’m patient—at least most of the time.  I lead by example and I challenge my students to think on their own.  But every once in a while, I’ll find myself standing in the studio lecturing my students and wondering “what the f*ck am I saying…

There’s No Painting in Dance Class!

I find myself giving a lot of pep talks these days.  Whether it’s telling my high school students to stop obsessing over another dance team’s costumes/props/anorexic talent and start focusing instead on their own performance, reminding my middle school kids to breathe when they’re hurrying out of one costume and into the next, or telling…

A Rock Obama

Because I get a kick out of trying to turn my preschoolers into “global citizens” at the tender age of three, we have a world map posted in the dance studio and every once in a while, I’ll trade Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes for a little civics lesson. “Where do we live?” I asked…

Those Straight Talkin’ Beach Balls

I have a bit of a problem.  Actually, it’s more than a bit of a problem—it’s kind of a big problem, and it’s caused more than a few ruptures in my past relationships, but I’m working on it, and thanks to my work as a teaching artist at a state-of-the-art early childhood program, I’m learning…

Bouncing Off the Walls

Three year olds are like beach balls.  They’re round and bright and colorful and when you release them into a hallway, they basically just roll around and until they bump into the walls.  I know this because during my second day back at The School (aka, the morning after The Show), my boss came down…

Who Knew a Hula Hoop Could Get You Fired?

Well folks, I still haven’t heard from Date #7 (and seeing as we’re supposed to be meeting for the first time on Friday afternoon and spending the entire weekend together, this is kind of a big deal).  Under ordinary circumstances, I’d be tempted to smash my cell phone against the wall and swear off men…

Boys Are Dumb (and so am I…)

He said he’d call.  Rather, I asked him to call and he said he would.  Over the weekend. Well folks, the weekend is over and I still have no idea when Date #7 plans to arrive on Friday, how long he plans to stay or if he’ll even show up. Under ordinary circumstances, I might…

Seriously, Why Me?

Note to self: do not wear hoop earrings while attempting to teach preschoolers how to jump rope.  I nearly lost an earlobe yesterday—several times, actually—and our poor tropical bird mobile looks even worse than it did when I first found it tangled and forgotten about and shoved under a box several weeks ago. Why am…