More Questions Than Answers

I never saw it coming.

I was the adult authority figure for a group of eleven-year-olds but, on this particular morning and in this particular dance session, I was just another participant.1 The teacher was leading a traditional Israeli dance and had our group standing in a circle, holding hands. The boy to my left was often a grudging participant and today was no different. He let go of my hand the moment there was a break in the music, complained to me about hating dancing and maintained a sullen expression throughout the session. I was used to a certain amount of resistance during the dance sessions from the kids, especially the boys, but my patience was starting to wear thin. During one of the breaks in the music, I finally stopped requesting and instructed the boy, somewhat sternly, to give me his hand.  Continue reading “More Questions Than Answers”

Dance Like No One’s Watching

I’m not a great dancer.

When we got married, T and I took dance lessons in preparation for our first dance during the reception. It was a good thing we did, too; I knew nothing about the “proper” way to dance so I needed instruction on my posture, my hand placement and, of course, my footwork. Also, T and I had agreed that we wanted the first dance to be special. It didn’t have to be some incredibly complicated routine, but neither of us were comfortable with just swaying from side to side like middle school kids at a bar mitzvah. So we took the lessons, learned the steps and, if I do say so myself, we looked pretty good doing it.  Continue reading “Dance Like No One’s Watching”

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