The Fairly Odd Mother

My son is now a dancer.

Here’s how we got there:

My girls started at a new dance studio this year since their former teacher retired. When I was signing them up in August, my son D announced he wanted to take “breakdancing”.

As if fate was smiling down on him, I learned that this studio was testing out a new class: Hip Hop for Boys, ages 5-7.

Looking around the waiting room at all the class photos on the wall, it is clear that, at least in our part of the state, dance classes are almost exclusively filled with girls. Only one boy smiles out from those photos, year after year.

And back in August, the studio’s owner told me she needed five boys to run this new Hip Hop class, and so far had only two committed students. It didn’t look good.

Not knowing if D would even do a dance class, I agreed to let him test out the first class. He was one of eight little boys who showed up that day.

Today,there are about 14 boys in that class. Word of mouth has spread fast and there is now talk that there may be enough boys interested to do two classes next year.

How did this class go from zero to 14 so quickly? It’s the teacher of course. Mr. D is a big man with amazing moves and a Drill-Sergeant’s voice. A Drill Sergeant who smiles often, never yells in anger and seems to genuinely like all the kids who line up in front of him for an hour a week.

I have never, ever seen 14 little boys listen and watch so quietly and politely, especially at the end of day on a Friday, when most of them are probably dying to just run around and scream like banshees.

On the first day, there were probably as many fathers as mothers in the waiting room. I have no doubt this was because the dads were thinking my son wants to do what? and had to see this for themselves. Many of these dads come back, week after week, because the class is too much fun to watch from behind the one-way glass.

Along with stretching and practicing specific moves, each boy is called to the middle of the room, alone, to do his own freestyle. At that very first class, every single boy got out there and danced, alone in front of strangers, for about thirty seconds.

D’s “freestyle” looks like a cross between self-flagellation, the Worm and 1980’s hair-band thrashing. I’ve never seen hip-hop like it, and yet I’ve never heard Mr. D tell the boys to change what they are doing in their freestyle. There is no “right” or “wrong”, and so there is no chance to fail or be ridiculed.

But, this is only one class. In all the other classes, I’ve only seen a couple of male faces. My son pronounced the other day, Ballet is for girls, hip-hop is for boys so he is by no means gender-neutral now that he is taking a dance class.

But, maybe this kind of class will help make people more comfortable with letting boys express themselves in a way outside of traditional sports. After all, I’m pretty sure Justin Timberlake and Usher didn’t learn their moves playing soccer or hockey.

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