Classes vs. Privates - Part 3

I wrote about this subject last year but I want to revisit it again. See the previous article links at the bottom of this article.

I’m often asked if private lessons are better than group classes, especially since classes are much cheaper in terms of one-hour costs.

My answer is always take both if you can handle it. In classes instructor simply can’t focus on your specific issues, so they make generic suggestions and hope you fix yourself based on what you’re seeing and feeling. Of course, you can make huge improvements in a group class, but it’s easy to miss something that is obvious to great instructors. Here’s something that happened to me personally.

I’ve been taking a one-hour class from an amazing hip-hop dancer/instructor named Sho-Tyme once or twice a week, for a few months. (View video below to see him having fun.) Earlier this week I took a one-hour private lesson, and within the first 10 minutes he showed me a posture/head isolation exercise to correct something I was missing. When I get it right, it’s amazing how much better I look and feel.

He also gave me enough material for a couple months of practice. I already see a positive difference, although the real payoff will be down the road as I practice and grow into the concepts we practiced in private.


Sho-Tyme Having Fun

Unfortunately, I’ve been practicing some moves slightly wrong since the beginning of his classes, and now I’m starting the process of “unlearning” them and getting the right feel. I need some intense practice time to internalize the details and make it a part of my dancing. Intellectually I “get it”, but undoing my previous practice makes it more of a challenge that it should be.

In other words, in class, I thought it was right and getting better each week, but I missed something rather basic. Instead I was reinforcing an ugly habit every class, not to mention my own out of class practice time.

I was making positive progress in many areas. But because something foundational was weak, more class practice was also making some things worse and I was unaware of the issues.

In my case, I actually thought I was doing things right, but there is a specific motion I totally missed. In my head I was getting it better each week, but in hindsight I see it’s a case of “I didn’t know what I didn’t know.”

I suspect I eventually would have figured it out, but I hate to think of the work to unlearn/relearn if I continued to practice incorrectly for another three to six months or more. It's so easy to miss something that should be a part of your dancing, especially when you are working hard to improve.

If you’re taking a class from a great instructor, take some private lessons with them and ask them what they would suggest to upgrade your look and feel. Ask them to focus on foundational issues, rather than the cool move of the week. Those you can pick up in class if your foundation is strong. A few lessons can make a world of difference, because they are exclusively focused on your strengths and weaknesses.

It’s obvious to me I would have benefited from taking the lesson sooner, because then I’d be reinforcing the right moves practicing in class and on my own.

Once you find an instructor you like, I’d recommend you take some private lessons as soon as you can swing it. It makes a huge difference by giving you insights, concepts and details that often take months or more in a group class.

Even though I’ve known this concept for many years, it’s still humbling to see it in action myself. Hopefully you’ll avoid my mistake.

Previous articles on this topic:
Classes vs. Privates – Part 1
Classes vs. Privates – Part 2

For a list of all the ways technology has failed to improve the quality of life,
please press three.
--Alice Kahn

Eyes Up! Not Just On The Floor

A master instructor at Millennium named Eric Ellis is famous for saying "Eyes up, use the mirror. The floor isn't telling you anything!" when people are looking down while dancing. (I've also heard him being more direct in private with, "The floor doesn't tell you sh#t!" but I doubt he wants to be quoted on that one.)

It's hard to fix some habits on the dance floor. We have to fix them in life, then it's easy on the floor.

Eric has said "eyes up" to me occasionally, and we discussed it last week because I had one of those "Ah-ha" moments. While he had said it in the past, I was too worried about other aspects of the exercise to pay much attention to that specific comment, assuming it was because of my concentration at the time.

Then I saw someone else in a class looking slightly down during an exercise, and realized "hey, that's me." She wasn't looking at her feet, but she was looking a little below eye level. It wasn’t a great look on an otherwise accomplished dancer. I had never noticed it before, but it was so easy to see why that doesn't work when I saw it on someone else.

After seeing her and becoming aware, I realized I look slightly down when I'm not dancing. It's subtle, and I doubt most people would notice directly, but it doesn't look right while on the floor. Eric said I could fix it by bringing my chin up about a quarter-inch or so, and after reviewing I see he is right. It's not a big change on one hand, but years (decades?) of doing something different make it a tough adjustment while dancing.

Then the obvious thought hit me again. If I walk around 15 hours a day looking slightly down, it would be really tough to fix it while dancing for a few hours. I need to make looking at eye-level part of everything I do, and then doing it while dancing will be easy.

Recently, I started practicing "eyes up" everywhere, including when I'm walking to my office, standing in the kitchen, shopping at Home Depot, taking a shower or brushing my teeth. Rather than focus on this fix when I hit the floor, my goal is to make it part of my overall look all the time, especially outside the dance studio.

This concept applies to posture, balance and many other dance elements. Some things can't be fixed on the floor alone, but instead need to be a part of your day-to-day life if you want them to stick.

It's why strong dancers, gymnasts and many athletes carry themselves with great posture outside of their professional life, because it's tough to be hunch back all day and gracefully elegant while dancing or performing.

Now I am not worried about mastering it on the dance floor, I'll get it right during the day, knowing over time it will be natural during the dances.

Let me know what skills you are practicing in life to upgrade something in your dancing!

Have the courage to be ignorant of a great number of things, in order to
avoid the calamity of being ignorant of everything.
--Sydney Smith

Unaware Club For Men

The Hair Club for Men has been around a while, and I suspect some have escaped and joined the "Unaware Club for Men."

The guys that scare me the most are the ones who "don't know they don't know." They try leading complex moves, missing the fact that their partner is in pain from the last move. They dance off time, wondering what is wrong with their partners and why the women don't follow well at this club. They run their partners into those around them, step on toes and act like nothing happened. On the crowded dance floor they dance big and ignore the fact that their partner is getting hit or is very uncomfortable with their choices. If they see something go wrong, they assume it's the other guy's fault.

Some of us guys are simply clueless, and the psychologists are now telling us things that are obvious if you've danced a while (or are female).

Dr. David Dunning of Cornell University said that the "incompetent are often supremely confident of their abilities. They are blissfully ignorant, because the skills required for competent assessment are also the ones they are missing."

"Not only do they reach erroneous conclusions and make unfortunate choices, but their incompetence robs them of the ability to realize it,'' wrote Kruger, now an assistant professor at the University of Illinois, and Dunning.

"This deficiency in 'self-monitoring skills,' the researchers said, helps explain the tendency of the humor-impaired to persist in telling jokes that are not funny, of day traders to repeatedly jump into the market -- and repeatedly lose out -- and of the politically clueless to continue holding forth at dinner parties on the fine points of campaign strategy."

The incompetent, therefore, suffer doubly, they suggested in a paper appearing in the December issue of the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology.

"Not only do they reach erroneous conclusions and make unfortunate choices, but their incompetence robs them of the ability to realize it,'' wrote Kruger, now an assistant professor at the University of Illinois, and Dunning.

The findings, the psychologists said, support Thomas Jefferson's assertion that "he who knows best knows how little he knows.''

The studies do conclude it may not be the guy's fault. Sort of like the "pigs don't know pigs stink" concept. Check out the complete article below for additional details.

http://home.att.net/~profmulder/Incompetence.htm

I'm thinking maybe there is some hope, because if a guy reads this article, maybe he'll wonder if it applies to him. Most who don't get it will assume it's the other guy, but it's possible some self reflection may make a difference. I'm not holding my breath but I'm hoping something will help.

Let me know your thoughts!

If opportunity doesn't knock, build a door.
-Milton Berle

Gaining Perspective on Your Dancing (and Life)

As we grow, sometimes it seems like everybody else around us is improving or is already better. They are making more progress then we are, and making it look easy, when I'm struggling to get to the next level.

In my case, nothing beats doing something rather than complaining about my lack of progress. Take a new class, watch some dance DVDs and find a few new moves, hang out with some stronger dancers, hang out with some beginners (realizing how far I've progressed), go to a new club, or occasionally, simply do something else to gain perspective.

When I'm feeling like I need to kick myself in the rear, I watch these two videos again. They are NOT salsa related, but are worth viewing when you need some perspective. They make my complaining seem very petty.

Check out this basketball player and his excuses:


When you are struggling with your dancing, check out these two dancers. You can't help but admire their ability to move forward after severe, life changing setbacks:


Let me know your thoughts on these clips.

Familarity breed contempt -- and children.
-Mark Twain

I Can't Dance Like Nobody's Watching

Maybe you’ve heard someone say "Dance Like Nobody's Watching," and maybe you’ve already embraced it yourself. But I’ve noticed that most people who spit this mantra at you are already strong dancers. It’s easy to dance like nobody’s watching when everybody likes watching you dance.

I think that’s like the calendar girls who say “the human body is art, and showing it is fine.” It’s easy to be comfortable in a swim suit (or less) when you could be on the cover of Victoria’s Secret. And I’m pretty sure they haven’t seen me without clothes, or they would amend their "body is art" statement.

Recently, I’ve been thinking about the process of dancing without care or inhibition. In some venues, I do pretty well with that concept, but it isn’t always the case. In most clubs, there are a set of people dancing and a set of people watching, and I just do my thing, effectively ignoring them and focusing on my partner. In that environment, I know I’m a work in progress, and I’ve learned to deal with the discomfort of others being critical.

Frankly, I realize that most people simply don’t care about me; they’re focused on themselves, on their dancing, on their image. That’s fine with me.

As a musician, I learned a long, long time ago that when performing, someone is always in the audience saying “I could do that better.” In LA, many times there IS a set of stronger musicians in the audience, so I learned to ignore them and think, “Ok, maybe he could do it better, but he’s sitting in the audience. I have my strengths too. These musicians asked me to perform, not him, so I must be doing something right.” The more energy you spend worrying about what others are thinking, the less focused you are on your performance or social dancing.

Over time, I matured, and I suspect the same thing applies to dancing. You have to toughen yourself as you grow, putting yourself in situations that are not always comfortable. Over time, you realize that other people think about you much less than your paranoid ego fears they do, and you have to go through the experiences to get better.

I’ve had a couple times over the years where I’ve thought, “Maybe I should stop going to clubs for X months, and just practice on my own. The next time I show up at the clubs everybody will marvel at my progress.” Then I realize, “Ahhh, that’s not realistic; going to clubs and practicing is what makes me better, so just get over yourself and ignore everybody else while you learn.”

Of course, it’s easy to say that, but sometimes I’m still moderately embarrassed while working through different phases of growth. Being a work in progress means some days will be better than others, but nothing beats the experience of being in the arena rather than sitting and watching others have fun.

Here’s a simple example: Sometimes I’m in my car, and working on head, neck or shoulder isolations while driving or sitting in traffic. Funny thing is, I’ll often stop when I realize someone has noticed me doing exercises, even though I dance in front of hundreds of people per week at the clubs.

The exercise will help my dancing, and the car practice is good time management, as long as I don’t hear breaking glass from impact with those around me. I don’t know these people now, I doubt I’ll ever see them again, they can’t hear my music, and I’m actually making progress with my practice.

Why do I stop? What’s my problem? In that situation, I’m obviously too worried about them thinking I’m crazy or otherwise abnormal. When I take a cold, hard look, it’s obvious I shouldn’t care what they think.

If I actually continue my exercises, possibly entertaining them and giving them a good laugh, I’m making their world more interesting and improving my dancing. In a way, I’m giving them a gift, even though they may be laughing at me rather than with me.

Of course, if I continue and my dancing improves, I’ll have the last laugh. Someday all those car hours of practice will fool people into believing that I’m a naturally gifted dancer, rather than someone who practices good time management.

Think of them telling their friends, “Yeah, I’m sitting in traffic, and this gray-haired guy in his Lexus is grooving to something. I think he was on drugs, or maybe he was having a seizure, I almost called 911, but then I figured out he thought he was dancing and I laughed so hard I had to pull over and wipe the tears from my eyes. This guy is a hoot. Watch for that gray Lexus.”

So I’m on crusade: I’m trying to worry less about others, especially those who don’t know me. I’m thinking about what can I do to truly dance or practice like nobody’s watching, and give myself the mental freedom to occasionally look like an idiot.

How do we toughen ourselves, so we grow to our full potential? We can take different classes where our skills put us in the lower third of the class, then stick with it to become above average. We can read books about mind/body connections and high-pressure performance situations and find situations where growth is required. This may include doing a performance, going to new classes, entering a competition and/or joining a dance team.

In my case, I’m adopting the same dance attitude I have while playing music, plus taking classes and practicing.

We should also look for little things, like practicing shines in the line at the bank, or doing a few spins at the grocery store. The idea is to be bolder than you were in the past, doing little things in places where people will notice, knowing you have to ignore them and focus on refining your techniques.

For example, it would be easier to do our favorite, most rehearsed shine sequence while waiting at the bank, but we should also working on the ones that don’t always work, because the risk of temporary failure makes us stronger. Ninety-nine percent of the people around us can’t do the shines either, so if we “fail” temporarily, refine, and then get it right, it toughens us and makes us stronger dancers.

In some classes I've moved my location from hiding in the back, to being in the front row, someplace close to the instructor. I'm no longer in the middle of the pack on the "across the floor" exercises, instead going close to the front, or sometimes even last, which means almost everybody else in the class is watching.

It’s not always easy for me, but I do it anyway, and you should too.

I’m wondering what others are doing to toughen themselves? Let me know your thoughts and techniques.

I feel like I'm in a rut. Every time I go to bed at night, I find myself getting up again in the morning.
-Brad Stine