Move aside and let the man go through

I’ve seen this phenomenon time and again with adult learners, regardless of what they are learning.  But I never thought it would happen to me.

See, I’m in this contemporary dance class at my studio.  It’s pretty advanced and very choreography-focused.  Physically, I can keep up.  But I’ve never had contemporary before and it’s been a while since I’ve had to remember choreo that wasn’t also being filtered through my partner.  Our routine for the annual recital involves a lot of changes of formation and direction and other spatial stuff that, in combination with the intricate steps, causes my brain to emit a continuous high-pitched whine of anxiety.  “EEEEEEEEEEEE I CAN’T REMEMBER WHAT TO DO NEXT AND I AM GETTING IT ALL WRONG AND EEEEEEEEEEEE.”  I’ve been trying to keep all that on the inside, figure it out as we go, and not take up too much time asking our teacher to review.  I thought if I could just do it enough times and inobtrusively watch the others, I would pick it up.  That worked, mostly, but in a couple of places we are moving in circles, turning around, or transitioning in groups so that I’m not even sure who to watch and follow.  And recital is now just a couple of weeks away.  “EEEEEEEEEEEEE IMPENDING DOOM EEEEEEEEEEEE.”

Last night, I was saved. Our teacher had to reset part of the routine because one dancer had to drop out at the last minute.  The reworked part happened to be one of the parts I was having the most trouble with.  Teacher also asked me if I wanted her to review my other problem area.  I somehow went into this anxiety-driven monologue about bursting into flames on the stage, and the class picked it up and constructed a hilarious narrative in which I turned into a phoenix.  Then we went over Hard Part #1 and I felt better about it.  Later I confessed that I was still having to watch people during Hard Part #2 to know what to do, and Teacher said that was fine, I could watch someone till I got it.

And then, at the end of the class, we ran the routine one more time, and something weird happened: EVERYTHING WAS FINE.  I did Hard Part #1, no problem, and although I think I was standing in the wrong place at one point during Hard Part #2, I did not, in fact, burst into flames.  By the time we get through next week’s class, blocking rehearsal next Sunday, and dress rehearsal before recital, I will definitely be in good shape.

After class I told Teacher that venting all my anxiety about not understanding the routine seemed to have helped.  As I told her, “I think I was concentrating so hard on not knowing the routine that I drowned out the fact that I actually know the routine.”  She, God bless her, did not shake her head sadly at my insanity but in fact said she’d had the same experience in the past.  I was getting in my own way. I see it with people learning to dance all the time.  They are doing a step perfectly well, but they think they are making a mistake, so they stop.

As adults, we have a hard time doing things badly.  We want to stop and make sure before we forge ahead and potentially look foolish.  But constantly playing defense against mistakes means not finding out how much we’re actually capable of when we commit fully to trying something new.  The brain is so focused on self-monitoring that it can’t fully concentrate on the main task: dancing!  It’s understandable that in partner dancing, a person would be particularly concerned about doing everything correctly–that person is not the only one at risk if something goes wrong.  Still, which is worse: always holding back for fear of stepping on someone’s foot, or stepping on them once and getting it over with?  When the mistake is made, you know you have found the boundary.  You can go right up to that edge the next time, without going over it.

I don’t get this right all the time either.  But last night was a powerful reminder.  Get out of your own way and you’ll find out that you know more/can do more/can dance better than you think.