When I was in fourth grade some square dancing guy came to our elementary school to teach us square dancing. All us fourth graders were brought down to the cafeteria, the tables had been folded and pushed aside and the guy told us to get partners. Being somewhat slow and clueless before I knew it I was the only girl left and the only boy left was the boy they called David Garbage. They called him this cause, well, to be blunt, he always looked dirty. He was kind of like Pig Pen, only more outspoken and with a real gravelly voice. I resigned myself to whiling away the hour with David Garbage (made plans to wash my hands after the dancing) took his sticky hands in mine and listened to the caller tell us what to do. Before I knew it, I was having a fabulous fun time dancing away with David who was enthusiastic and a pretty good dancer as far as this totally uncoordinated 10 year old could tell. I remember having such a good time that my face began to ache from all the smiling. Then I looked around at the other kids and realized that David Garbage was the only boy who was really dancing and every other kid, tortured boys and humiliated girls alike, in the cafeteria had that unhappy look of "they are making me do this" on their faces. I wanted to square dance every week, the other kids unanimously hated it. The next week came and I looked for David Garbage to be my partner, but he been quickly nabbed by some other girl. The third and final week came and our dance class got cancelled. I was crushed while the others cheered.
I tell my boys about David Garbage all the time because I want them to know that being the kid that dances (takes a chance/let's his hair down/isn't afraid of being his own person) is a great thing. I tell my boys all the time "Chicks love guys who dance." And I really hope they get the bigger picture.
Today I photographed a sixth grade class being taught to Waltz. The 6th grade boys were freaking out about touching the 6th grade girls. Everyone was uncomfortable. There were only 2 boys who sincerely danced. One was the class clown (You know, the class clowns turned out to be great guys didn't they?) and the other was the studious quiet type. As I made my way around the room trying not to interrupt the lesson while photographing the kids, I did manage to whisper to both the clown and the quiet type. I told them both "Chicks love guys who dance." and they both smiled back at me like they knew exactly what I was talking about.
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