In response to email queries as to whether I will be coming back to ballroom dancing ... [This posting was taken wholesale from my other blog, http://dictionary-of-questions.blogspot.com/ dated February 27, 2012. I hope this and my previous writing on this topic will have clarified my stance on ballroom dancing and anything related to it.]
Coming back to ballroom classes, if only to observe my partner's instructional methodology and techniques demonstration, has to count as one of the worst decisions I made this year. [My annual quota for making stupid and life-wrecking mistakes and decisions is five; and this is only the beginning of the year... let's hope I'll stay under the limits.]
Simply being there knocks my center off-balance and brings my normally placid temper to a raging flare. Some—not all—of the reasons are listed here ...
The students are serious and committed to their ballroom dance journey; no question there. But how difficult is it [and how long does it take—when one is serious and committed to the journey, whether with aesthetic and / or intellectual aspirations]—to learn [and drill] the basics until they become instinctive? Without the basics, how can one hope to master the techniques that enable the progressive advancement through intermediate and advanced patterns and choreography with a dancer's understanding, sophisticated elegance, and grace?
Knowing this, I question why it is that we must reiterate the basics over and over again? After hearing the basics of ballroom dance repeated many times over the course of three to four classes, wouldn't students have committed them to memory, bolstered by daily practice? Shouldn't students be self-motivated and disciplined enough to invest in their own progress and growth without constant reminders?
It is akin to having to play secretary to my partner and son in reminding them—telling is more like it—what to do and how to think, problem solve, and plan—ranging from when to go to bed [applies to both my partner and my son] to what and how to design a course syllabus for an online web development class [or the functionalities required in digital forensics tools]. Of course, I don't get paid for "secretarying" my family but the situations are similar and can become downright annoying.
And stressful, too. Think about it: What self-respecting instructors wouldn't want their students to improve, make stable progress, graduate, and achieve merits for their accomplishments, independent of their instructors? It's called shepherding and mentoring, and it promotes knowledge transfer and innovation leading to quality living and cultural civilization for this interdependent world of ours. Furthermore, by improving steadily, both students and instructors become free to explore in innovating and creating new visions and directions, instead of having to [re]till the [old] soil over and over, [which leads eventually to degradation and unproductive soil].
Part of the frustration and impatience I'm experiencing in classes is the question why if one is unwilling to invest in [and commit to] the four Ps of learning [any subject matter]—Patience, Persistence, Practice, and a Positive attitude—then why bother taking the journey at all? It pisses me off every time I see people around me taking shortcuts or doing things half-heartedly and half-mindedly. It makes me want to scream out loud: For heaven's sake, wake up and inject some passion, vitality, authenticity, integrity, and soul into life, already. [And if that seems impossible, then perhaps, one needs to physically die—as one is already dead, anyway.]
The other part of my vexation is that with all the social issues besetting us, such as poverty, racial [and cultural] discrimination, child abuse, failing educational system, religious bigotry, cybersecurity, informational warfare, ever-shifting legal frameworks in the digital world, [not to mention international business and the marketing opportunities they afford one in building multinational corporations that can better the lives of one's immediate and extended families and communities; unlike the limited-growth mom-and-pop shops that anchor various immigrant communities], I fiercely resent being around people whose sense of self-worth is rooted in their body and in their capacity to possess what they desire [there are some things money cannot buy—of this I am quite firm in my belief]; whose lopsided tendency to define reality by what they can hold in their hands; and whose meaning and purpose of life is centered on climbing the social elite ladder.
Being a private and steadfastly serious person, I further resent having my time wasted on social niceties and trivialities—which to me are essentially brief and emotionally dishonest "talks." Again, if one cannot or do not reveal one's true thoughts, feelings, and selves [and yes, we all have multiple selves lurking inside or behind the personae we present to the world], then why bother initiating and engaging in a dialogue? What is the purpose of telling white lies or face-saving lies when offering constructive feedback that has been given [and ignored] repeatedly? Better to remain silent than to give false words [and false hopes].
These are some of the central issues I am struggling with in my [hesitant] interactions with students.
With my partner, the issues are the same yet subtly more complex and layered with inherent biases, as I naturally expect and anticipate more from him, which is only normal, given that we [supposedly] build and share a [quality] life together.
However, sitting [and observing] through the classes makes me question...
... the character of the man I am partnered with [and married to]; the extent some people willingly go to in order to have their egos stroked, thereby confirming their existence and importance; and the real objectives for my partner's continuing involvement in ballroom dance. [Contrary to the rumors floating about, it is not my concern—and thus, I would not try to deter—should my partner turn professional in order to train and pair up with female clients to compete on the dancesport circuit; my thinking on this subject has been—since the very beginning—along the lines of If that is my partner's dream, so be it, and I'd wish him much happiness and success pursuing it; but I don't share in that dream and I simply don't want to be married to an entertainer, and be submerged—in one way or another, later if not sooner—in the entertainment world with its frivolities and superficialities and social pecking order].
... his [lack of] business intelligence, executive management competence, and worldly wisdom. Would any sane person—let alone one who profess to want to have [and run] a multinational business empire—spend a minimum of 3.5 hours driving to and from a location to teach a one-hour group class for 8 USD per student. Not too bad you might think, especially in this anemic and bleeding economic landscape. But wait, let's consider other factors, too: The one-hour group class is no longer just one hour—it has been extended to two hours; head counts vary between four and eight students, which net anywhere from 32-64 USD; and the floor rental fee is 30 USD [but oh, management has been "accommodatingly nice" in that they deduct only half of the total fee from all attendees instead of the usual floor fee when the class has eight and less students]. All in all, 16-32 USD for a "hobby that brings in extra money." Really? [There are days when I look at myself in the mirror and wonder if my reflection is that of a fool or a dolt.] I don't buy it: That cash barely covers our lunch [after class] and gas [for the trip to and from]. More probable is the fact that for less than 35 USD, my partner can have the [weekly] ego stroke he thirsts for and that validates his existence.
... his self-proclaimed desire, want, and need for, and commitment to "our time" and "family time"; and his view of my time and contributions [and where they should be applied to]. I think it must sit well with him to drag his small family along [since we no longer practice nor prepare class materials nor teach together, which effectively muted another reason for having classes in the first place—to continue learning in order to become better dancers, performers, instructors and choreographers] to be his captive audience when he's teaching. I supposed since dancing means so much to my partner, he takes it for granted that my son and I will find some enjoyment and significance out of his preoccupation; or else, simply put up with it because that is pretty much our family time together. The result? Such wasted Sundays for all of us since none of us get what each wanted: A chance to sleep in for our son during the formative years of his growth; a chance to discuss and get my feedback for career-related projects for my partner—the brainstorming, business, and evaluative thinking parts of my brain are unlikely to be very efficiently and effectively productive coming off the ballroom track; and a chance to advance and complete my business projects- and collaborations-in-the-work with other professionals [that is, when I am not up-in-my-elbows cleaning the house and preparing for Monday and the days after].
As I've written before, I've asked the essential questions, and I've been shown the realities behind the facades of ballroom dance and the people who inhabit that world and those lured and possessed by its charms. Now I must act.
Will I be coming back and planting myself as an anchor in the classes? For now, the answer is, Most unlikely as I really don't know if I can withhold my rage against innocent bystanders [for the students are the innocent party in this drama that has been unfolding].
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