3.26.2015

p.s.

So with that last post, I may be back to blogging.

Maybe.

Because let's face it, the last time I rebooted I wrote a few posts and went silent for a two years...

correction

Shay Moore's post on workshop etiquette came across my newsfeed today.  Most of what she prescribes was not new to me, but the section she included on handling correction really clarified the thoughts I've been having on the issue of corrections in dance class in general.  

Here's the passage (bolded emphasis mine): 

Correction = Thank You 
If the instructor offers you correction, do not take offense or make excuses. When a teacher offers corrections it is for your benefit, and is often a compliment that she feels you are capable of applying that correction (hint: in any style you study, the most hapless dancers in a classroom often get less correction/attention, I assure you). ... Whatever you do, as with any gift you are given, always ALWAYS reply with a "thank you". 
I've had quite a few discussions on this subject with fellow dancers and teachers in the past year, and in those discussions it soon became apparent that my attitude toward being corrected is...not necessarily the norm.   I've expressed my feelings in the past by saying "correction is what I'm paying a teacher for; if I could figure it all out by myself I'd be off in my living room being the World's Best Bellydancer.  So bring it on!" But the way Shay explains her point helps me understand more clearly what I've been feeling but failing to communicate.

My attitude towards correction is quite simply this: if you as a teacher (or even a fellow dancer) correct me, it shows you care about me.

Correction is an aspect of dance teaching that, in my experience, is often absent in bellydance classes.  Possibly because many women come to bellydance at an older starting age, with no prior dance experience, and for reasons other than just practicing and perfecting a dance style.  Bellydance is often marketed, particularly to beginners, as having large spiritual, healing, and sisterhood aspects--which means egos and self-confidence are perhaps more fragile than in some other dance forms.  When the movement becomes as much about self-discovery and empowerment than it is about perfectly executed steps, correction can feel much more personal than may be intended.

But when correction is absent, and students want to advance and/or perform, other problems present themselves.  My own personal dance journey is an example.  I came to bellydance with a long history of dance class experience and a general ability to pick up the basics of any new skill fairly easily.  I quickly advanced from beginner to intermediate, where I spent a long time frustrated, sitting on a plateau, feeling like I was not improving but not knowing how to make the changes necessary to improve on my own.  Many times I got little more than a quick scan and a nod before the teacher would move on to another student who was having more difficulty.  It wasn't that I wasn't learning anything, but without help I couldn't bridge the gap between where I currently was and where I wanted to be.

Consequently (and particularly as I concentrate more on Tribal style, which has exacting standards in aesthetics and movement vocabulary), the more correction I get, the happier I am.  And getting back to the core of the issue, the more correction I get, the more I feel like the people I am dancing with care about me and my dancing.  Some dancers seem to prefer cheerleading and positive reinforcement, but the difference between us, I guess, is that I see the correction as positive reinforcement.  Someone believing in me and trusting me to do better.  Someone wanting me to do better because they care about me and my desire to dance well.

So there it is.  Correction as love.

Because, honestly, I NEVER EVER EVER want to see a photo of myself like this one again: