About the Dance....

Ok.

I spent the last 2 weeks in my classes making decorations for the St. (... there was a lesson in itself: Ms. Hunter, what is that "St." for?) Valentine's Dance. It was like I was a kid in middle school again; made me think of my first sock hop (and why I'm not gonna like my son turning 12, but that's another post)... The Dance began at 7 and ended at 9:15 for me when I could take the noise no longer. My feet hurt from teaching all day, but if The Dance had met with my (I know, too) high standards, I wouldn't have minded. I groaned when I realized that I sounded just like my parents when they first heard the Beatles in the 60's. The music all sounded the same... like some demonic hypnotechno chant.... I had expected hip hop, what happened??? Only one song sounded different, began with a melody and a beat, got my hopes up, then dashed them on the rocks. Yikes. Zounds. I could hear my pacemaker flip flopping. I couldn't have danced if my hips and knees had even wanted to work properly!!!

Well, the decorations looked great, and I was surprised at how some things don't change. The kids spent the first 45 minutes lining the walls waiting for someone to break the ice and dance. The girls spent the next 45 minutes dancing for the boys. Then, finally the boys got up the nerve and joined in. That was when I lost interest. The dancing looked like a bad version of what we used to call "the jerk." If anyone wonders why unwed pregnancy rates are what they are, watches hip hop music videos and still doesn't understand.... dah. I even said something in class about submitting requests for songs that weren't vulgar and one student said, "Ms. Hunter, do you ever listen to hip hop?" Ok. I tried. I like the beat, wish the lyrics were clean. A brother in my Church who is very into rock (has a livingroom full of speakers, drums, guitars, etc.) says, "Well, you know, it's the lyrics that ruin everything." Well said, Harvey.

My expectations won't get in the way next year.