Worst. Student(s). EVER.

For most people, learning something new can be a very daunting task. It’s even worse when you’re learning in the company of others. Worse yet, is when this “something new” is learning how to dance. Some more than others (or some, not at all, apparently), we all seem to have this fear of making fools of ourselves. No one wants to embarrass themselves in front of others. No one wants to look like they don’t know what they’re doing. Although it still kinda-sorta baffles me, I can understand people being apprehensive about taking a dance class. Whenever I’m discussing with newcomers about the possibility of taking classes with me, more often than not I’m met with excuses reactions like “But I don’t know how to dance!” or “I suck at dancing!”, to which I jokingly respond “Well, you didn’t enter kindergarten knowing how to read already, did you?” (I did, actually, but that’s beside the point.) I’ve even had a friend say to me “But I don’t know how to take a salsa class!” Err?!?! That one took the cake for me. I’m like, “Why do you need to know how to take a class? You don’t need prior experience to learn!”

Within the past year, I’ve actually had to give that statement some thought, though. It is very, very rare that I have problematic students, but two in particular have made me realize that some people actually do not know how to take a class. Or, should I say, they don’t know how to act in a class. It really has nothing to do with what you do or do not know, actually. It all has to do with your attitude; how you approach the class. The students that I described previously, despite their understandable fears and inhibitions, had the one thing that I will ever require from a student. That thing is humility. The majority of my students come in with a humble attitude. They know that they don’t know much. Even if they did know a little somethin’, they are open to learning more, or even re-learning what they think they know. The two students I’m about to rant about describe to you now were anything but humble. They reminded me of an old saying about a tea cup being full; they did not have room for anything else in their heads. They believed they already knew it all. Okay, maybe they didn’t think they new it all, but they “knew enough to be dangerous” as some would say. They knew enough to make themselves think --maliciously or not-- that they were at a higher level than they really were. I’m never one to take it upon myself to cut someone else’s ego down to size, but believe me, in these cases I surely wanted to.

***WARNING: I’m about to do some rare ranting here, so I’m going to be a bit more long-winded (or penned, keyboarded… whatever) than usual. Carry on. :-) ***

- One night, while I was teaching my Friday night beginner’s class at The Sanctuary, there was one particular woman who was there with a date. I’d seen this woman in a friend of mine’s salsa class before, back when I used to co-teach with her, so I knew that she (somewhat) had the basic step down. We’ve all gone through this (myself included), but apparently knowing a little bit or having taken a few classes makes people think that they know enough to teach others. Now, this is somewhat understandable if you just have a group of friends who want to learn and you are, by default, the most experienced person. However, this lady, in her infinite wisdom, decided to teach her date in the middle of my class. As I demonstrated how to do a salsa basic, she felt she needed to explain to her date what was going on, at the same time that I’m explaining it; as if I was speaking a different language and he needed a translator. This was in addition to random chatter between the two of them (mostly from her to him, actually) while I was explaining things. Also, during the basic footwork portion of my class, I have everyone, male or female, face the same direction for simplicity’s sake, and then adjust once we get to the partnerwork. This lady, instead of following my instructions, stands in front of her date, facing him, doing the basic as if she was dancing with him already. Several times in the first few minutes of class, I had to stop and say “Is everyone with me?” Normally, this is enough to get everybody to stop chattering and regain their attention. Not in this case, unfortunately. Everyone else except for our “special couple” fell in line. I ended up using my “let’s get focused” statement three times in a row, each time getting louder and aiming more towards them. Even then, they continued with their own “private lesson” in the middle of my class. By that point, everyone else in the class could tell that I was doing my best to not call them out, and I could tell that they understood my annoyance. This eventually stopped, albeit briefly, when the lady left for a drink at the bar. By the time she returned, we were in the partnerwork portion of the class. Again, this lady, in her ever-increasing infinite wisdom, decides not to join in as a follower like the rest of the women in the class. Instead, she follows her date (I have the guys rotate partners), coaching him along the way as he dances with the other women.

Now, some of you reading this may be wondering, “What’s the big deal? She was just trying to help her friend.” As I stated earlier, that’s all fine and dandy when you’re trying to teach someone what you now and there’s no one else around. The problem was that she was doing this while I was teaching. It is very disrespectful to me or any other teacher to try to do their job at the same time that they are. It’s even more disrespectful when you don’t know their craft as well as they do. Personally, when I'm in another instructor's class, regardless of whether I (think) I already know what they're teaching or not, I show them their due respect but shutting the heck up and giving my undivided attention. Whether they show it outwardly or not, you'll be hard pressed to find an instructor who isn't annoyed by a student who acts like a now-it-all. Instructors know that students who do this can cause their share of collateral damage. They can interfere with the other students’ ability to learn. Although he was none the wiser at the moment, this woman’s date was on the wrong end of this. To his credit, he was humble enough to know that he didn’t know the first thing about dancing salsa and was eager to learn. Unfortunately for him, however, he couldn’t learn from the one person in the room who actually knew his stuff because his date was in his ear the whole class. What his date didn’t realize is, when you try to do the teacher’s job for him, or when you’re busy trying to practice a move or show off what you think you know while the teacher is teaching, not only do you prevent yourself from possibly improving what you think you already know, you prevent your partner from paying attention to what they need to hear. Also, even when done with the best of intentions, when you try to teach another student while the teacher is teaching, you may be teaching them the wrong things. It’s a case of the “legally blind” leading the “literally blind,” if you will. Finally, when you’re disruptive in a class, it gives other students in the class the impression that the teacher is unable to keep his class’ attention at best; unable to control it at worst. Fortunately in this case, my other students did not follow suit, but it could have eventually turned into a class full of students who decided to do their own thing because they no longer respect the instructor.

I allowed my calm, cool side (I’m not sure I even have another side, but I wanted to have one at that point) to get the best of me, so I didn’t respond negatively. However, I did decide that if something similar were to happen again, I would respectfully pull the student aside and explain that I will not tolerate a “private lesson” going on in the middle of my class. If you feel you can teach someone better than I can, by all means do so, but at least respect me enough to do so outside of my class. Now, on to my other “Worst Student Ever”…

- A few months ago, I had a really slow night in my beginners’ class. I only had one lady in my class that night at that point. She had been a loyal student for quite a while. Just before I got started, another student walked in. From the moment I introduced myself, this dude had this aloof, know-it-all vibe about him. Every question I asked him was replied to with a very short, one-word answer, almost as if he had a 3-foot thick brick wall up in front of him. As I lead him over to my corner of the studio, I asked if he’d taken any salsa classes before. He informed me that he had been taking classes and dancing salsa for a whole year. I explained to him that my class was a beginner’s class. I didn’t turn him away because, due to my experience, I’ve learned to take it with a handful grain of salt when people tell me how many years they’ve been dancing or that they’re at a particular level. I knew I needed to see him first. I told him that we’d just warm up with one song and go from there, so as to accurately gauge his level. I can’t say that my instincts were wrong. I could tell that he knew what the steps were as we did them, but there were several details that needed fixing. Although he was able to keep time as he danced, he looked all kinds of rhythm-less, looking down the whole time with his arms dangling to his side. Now, these are things I normally would not hold against any student in a beginner’s class, but according to him, he was not a beginner. According to me --the instructor-- however, he definitely did not live up to the “year of dancing” that he laid claim to, and he definitely was not someone I’d have allowed into my intermediate class.

I mentioned earlier that most students – the good ones, anyway – have at least a decent level of humility about them. Regardless of how much they do or don’t know, they are open to learning more. This guy, not so much. As I went about teaching, I’d look back at him through the studio’s mirror to see him looking away at the other classes and private lessons going on. He paid very little, if any, attention to me. Even as I was addressing flaws and mistakes that I saw in him (I usually address various things to the entire class, so as to not single anyone out), he still chose to ignore just about everything I said and did. I was very irritated on the inside, but again, I allowed the nice guy in me to prevent me from calling him out. Maybe it was a turn off for him for me to continue teaching basic material to him after he told me that he had been dancing “for a year.” Again, however, what I saw from him did not warrant me teaching him anything above what I was already doing.

Once we got to the partnerwork portion of my class, I asked him if he knew how to do a cross-body lead, a very basic yet important maneuver in LA-Style Salsa. I wish I could have recorded this guy’s reaction. He gave me this disgusted look, like “how dare you ask me if I know how to do a cross-body lead!?!?” Apparently, it was an insult to him for me to have asked him such a question. “Of course I know how to do a cross-body lead. I told you, I’ve been dancing for a year already” he replied. “Well, show me your cross-body lead” I said, as my smile and pleasant outward reaction belied the pissed-off-ness I was holding back on the inside. Before demonstrating, he said to me in a snide tone “With or without an inside turn?”, as if he was trying to drill it into my head that he already knew what he was doing. By this point, I really had to fight to not release my inner male Bon Qui-Qui and snap back at him. I’m like “Did this dude really just get smart with me? I’m about 3.14 seconds from putting him in his place and bringing his ego down to the level that his dancing is really at!” Turning up the filter between my thoughts and my mouth, I simply replied “whichever you like.” He proceeded to execute the move and, for all intents and purposes, he did it correctly. It was done on time, and the desired result was achieved. However, I could tell just from watching his execution and from the response of my other student that his leading technique was lacking, and he still looked awkward and rhythm-less. Now, I would expect that from a bona-fide beginner and would have actually applauded him if that was the case. However, given the level that he claimed to be at and the fact that he had such an arrogant attitude to boot, I was not impressed.

I will admit, though, that my next actions were a mistake on my part. Since my other student wasn’t exactly a clueless beginner, I decided to try to teach the new guy on the level that he thought he was at. Half of this was me trying to ease the tension between us, the other half was me trying to show him that he really wasn’t where he thought he was. To make matters worse, as I had him attempt the pattern I was teaching, he looked horrible while doing it, but had the nerve to impatiently correct my other student at the same time. Not only was there tension between me and him, there was now tension between him and my other student. Several times I had to stop his corrections to her and say “I got this”, as I saw from my other student’s facial expressions and body language that she was close to going off on him. I thought to myself, “I know this dude does not have the nerve to correct my student in my class!” Needless to say, the end of this class could not have come quickly enough for me. The only positive thing I could say about him was the fact that when his phone went off towards the end of the class, his ringtone was the victory song from the Final Fantasy video game series (my inner geek almost completely forgave him for everything prior). I felt like telling him off at the end of class, but I let him leave without getting an earful from me. However, he did find me on Facebook the next day. That was definitely a surprise to me. I jumped at the opportunity to do what I should have done the night before: I respectfully and tactfully told him about himself via Facebook message. I kindly yet sternly informed him that I am the only teacher in my class and that I will never again tolerate anyone but me doing the correcting in my class. Even more surprisingly, he actually had a respectful response and we more or less came to an understanding. More or less.

Amidst all the drama, I did learn a few valuable lessons. There are times that it really does pay for me to loosen the normally tight reigns I keep on my tongue. (Respectfully) speaking my mind in this situation would have saved a lot of time and frustration for both me and my other student, who expressed to me afterwards that if my “problem student” ever returned while she was there, she would leave immediately. I felt horrible after hearing that and vowed to never allow any student to have such a negative effect on another. Fortunately it didn’t, but my lack of assertiveness and my usually diplomatic nature almost cost me a loyal student and money. I also promised myself I would never again go out of my way to accommodate a student who wasn’t being respectful, nor would I teach anyone based on the level that they thought they were; only on the level that I, in my experience, perceive them to be. Both these situations taught me that it is ok for me to put the “nice guy” in me away when necessary, and that doing so does not necessarily mean that I’m being unprofessional. Sometimes, not putting my foot down can do more harm than good. I hope that those of you who are reading this that take or ever will take a class of any type learn a lesson from this as well. Please be respectful of your teachers. Realize that if you’re in a class, there’s a reason you’re taking the class and not teaching it: it’s that you have something more to learn in that area and only through having a sense of humility will you learn what that instructor has to offer you.