Only on a Sunday

I teach dance to little girls on Sundays because I like to mix a bit of masochism into my life. That is the only reason I can think of. That, and I love them to death. It's a torturous emotional cycle. Yesterday was our first practice since October. As usual, I had a perfect little lesson plan for my perfect little princesses. Problem is, they're not little princesses.

 

To say they were hyper upon arrival would be like saying Canadian winters are nippy. It's such an understatement that it borders on Blatant Lie. My ears welcomed the echoes of their shrieks because it meant that, for a half moment, there were no actual screams.

"What the-", don't say fuck, don't say fuck, "what the heck is up with you guys today?" I manage to be heard by one.

I look at the parents with a glare that I've perfected this year.

Teaching kids who are hopped up on kinderdrugs is never a good idea. Especially when the parents come to watch me not kill their spawn.

My original plan, since I was fighting a hangover, was to sit in a nice circle for most of the hour and calmly discuss what we did for the holidays. I imagined we'd giggle together and tell stories and maybe the really little ones would fall asleep and then I'd be all 'oh my goodness, look at the time! Class is over!' and there'd be frowny faces but everyone would leave in single file and I'd be merrily on my way to dinner and maybe a glass of wine. I have no idea how my mind still imagines scenarios like this, because there's never been one hint of quiet sitting in my classes, not even as a joke.

You can't fight fire with fire when it comes to hyper kids. I know this. I read about the theory of silent but strong leadership. I get it, and it probably made sense to the philosopher who made it up in his own little mind in his own little quiet room away from anything under the age of 50. Try it though. See how silence works for you in a room full of screaming girls. They'll forget you're even there.

I put on my angry face.I yell out the name of our first dance, along with "LINES!!". I stomp to the laptop and put on the song. My ears were still ringing as I cross my arms and stand like a dance teacher should. With authority. Oh yes, I did.

We can't talk for an hour, but we can certainly dance the FUCK out of 4 songs, and learn one more. Then do it all over again. Then again, because I had NOTHING ELSE planned for today aside from the quiet circle sit which, at this point, is worth a point-and-laugh. I must have checked the clock every two minutes.

When I have kids, I won't have 16 of them.