Going to the dance
Ah, grade school dances – kids standing around awkwardly in homogeneously gendered groups, eating snacks, sneaking lots of glances across the room, but doing precious little dancing. Those currently “in a relationship” venturing out at last, trying not to look too stupid. Then a few of the others summoning up the courage to join them, until the dance floor is more or less filled with what passes for dancing when you’re 10- or 12-years old.
The memories. My parents were pretty conservative and wouldn’t let me go to dances initially (though they eventually caved, and my brothers were all allowed to go right from the beginning). Even when the ban was officially in effect, however, I managed to sneak out to my fair share, especially the ones that were in school hours and they never knew about anyway.
My first dance was in grade five. The dances were normally just for the grade six classes, but the end of the year dance was expanded to allow the grade fives to join them (a coming of age thing? I don’t know). It was memorable for me though, because despite an unwritten rule about grade sixes never dancing with grade fives, the tallest and therefore most desirable girl in grade six decided to show her boyfriend how angry she really was with him by dancing with one of us untouchable grade fives. She chose me. She didn’t even know my name, but I was the only boy taller than she was, so she chose me. My reputation was made for the next year. I don’t even remember her name, but I can still remember that dance.
I also had a quite memorable dance in grade eight. My parents had initially said that I couldn’t go to the graduation dance, but I begged and I pleaded. I pointed out that it wasn’t just a dance but part of my graduation celebration (didn’t they want me to have those beautiful memories?) and that literally my whole class would be getting together for the last time (wasn’t it my duty to my friends to go?), and at last they gave in – sort of. They told me I could go “make an appearance,” allowing me just 15 minutes. Fortunately, that was all the time I needed to do what I really wanted, which was to follow through on a promised dance with a girl I liked (later my wife).
I’m saying all this, because my two eldest kids are both currently negotiating that awkward pre-teen ritual. The eldest, who isn’t very interested in these things, had been convinced by his friends that he should go to the upcoming Halloween Dance, until he found out that it cost money and that he wasn’t allowed to wear a costume that involved masks, weapons, blood, creepiness, other cultures, inappropriate amounts of skin, or just about everything else. So he decided it was too stupid to bother with.
My middle one, who is very interested in these things, has been invited to a safety patrol dance at another school across town. There was no question that he wanted to go. In fact, his biggest concern was that the location is too far for him to walk, and so he’ll need to be dropped off and picked up by his parents. He’s tried various approaches to avoid this problem, including asking if he can take the bus and suggesting that we might drop him off a block or two away.
Between the two of them, they embody both extremes of preteen awkwardness – one pretending disinterest, the other independence – and both can have negative implications. It’s easy for kids to miss out on the experience of being a preteen by avoiding things like dances and parties where they might not feel comfortable. It’s also easy for them to throw themselves into those experiences without really knowing how to handle the problems that might come up with relationship drama, drugs and alcohol, or sexual pressure.
This is why I don’t think that parents can have a one-size-fits-all approach to handling these sorts of things. One kid might need some encouragement to get out there and live a little. Another might need some cautionary talk about knowing limits and not rushing into things blindly. I told my eldest that I’d pay for him to go and that I’d even pick up his favourite girl (not his girlfriend) who goes to another school. I told my middle guy that I insisted on the honour of driving him right to the front doors of the school and picking him up in that exact place as soon as the dance was over.
Hopefully, they’ll both end up making memories to recall with fondness rather than regret.
