Our gracious host Rochelle at Friday Fictioneers
is encouraging us to get creative in 100 words or less
using this photo as our inspiration. This is my story.
In the 7th grade, ballroom dance class was a rite of passage ā a Friday night event that lasted six months, culminating in a semiformal dinner-dance. The boys wore ties and jackets, the girls in party dresses and white gloves. It was not mandatory but if you didnāt sign up, you were snubbed. It was the highlight of the year ā¦. not for the 12-year-old students but rather for their moms.
My son balked but signed up.
āYouāll never regret knowing how to danceā, I told him.
Since then, Iāve seen him dance on two occasions ā his wedding and his brotherās.
NARĀ©2024
100 Words
This is āBallroom Dancingā by Paul McCartney
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephantās Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NARĀ©2017-present.
The Elephant's Trunk 
I would love to meet a man who regrets never learning to dance š
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Dear Nancy,
At least he was able to dance for those special occasions. š Fun story.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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This is true and in time at the weddings and celebrations in the lives of his own children.
Thank you for sharing your gracious thoughts, Rochelle.
Peace,
šļø
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What a wonderful rite of passage. I agree with mom completely. ‘You’ll never regret knowing how to dance.’ And mom was right. It did come in handy. I wish we had such rites of passage in my part of the world.
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Thank you for sharing these lovely thoughts, Smitha. All we can do is support our children and pray it all turns out well.
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my niece and nephew had ballroom dance at school. My nephew balked and my sister told him it would help him meet girls. My niece was in a documentary about the ballroom dance competition between schools. My son didnāt have anything like that unfortunately.
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It is a conundrum …. but also a life lesson beyond the dancefloor.
Appreciate you sharing your thoughts.
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To go or not to go with the flow and learn what everyone else is doing, even of you hate it.āThat’s a tricky one.āNicely done.
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Tricky indeed. Best to tread carefully.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts!
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My pleasure! š
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He may have a lot of dancing left in him.
For one, and maybe most importantly, his daughter’s wedding.
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Now, isn’t that an absolutely lovely thought!
His only daughter is almost 15 so he still has some time to practice.
Thank you, Dawn!
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Side by side, I’m not sure what is worse:ābeing forced to learn to dance or being snubbed.āSeems like a tie, but ymmv.
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Doing something you’d rather not be doing can become bearable when all your friends are in the same boat; there might even be a bit of fun in it.
Being snubbed hurts and it’s a lonely place to be.
Lead on, Macduff!
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That made me laugh, because it’s so true. But 12 is a bit young for that. We were around 14-15-ish and the guys were a bit more mature (and more interested in girls) by then.
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Two years makes a huge difference, hopefully!
This was a tradition founded by the ladies who lunch and perpetuated by their daughters …. the last of a dying breed. There was a lot of pressure put on these kids; I pushed my son mostly to keep him from feeling left out. I knew better the second time around.
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The highlight of the year – for the Moms. There is an element of pride shining through.
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Not from me, James. I think my son disliked this outdated tradition just a bit more than my husband and I. The only reason I encouraged him was to keep him from feeling left out. We protect our kids, sometimes to a fault.
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I remember the school dance lessons, quite sombre at first. But when boisterous Scottish Folk Dancing was introduced, I think we all went a bit wild.
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Now that sounds like fun!
I do love a manly man in a kilt.
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I remember taking Spanish in high school, and the woman who taught it felt it was crucial that we learn latin dances as well as the language. Adios!
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Seems like a bit of a stretch to me.
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Oh yes, the boys especially hated it!
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It sounds like it was quite a big event. All that pressure to join in, from peers and the mothers looking forward to the ‘highlight of the year’. Your second son must have been very strong to resist all that. A lovely reminiscence, Nancy. The dancing skills might not have proven of use, but I’m sure your son treasures the memory of his ballroom dancing days.
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Too big an event, if you ask me Margaret, but who would be the first to break with tradition? I wonder if it’s still going on all these years later.
I don’t know if my son “treasures” those memories; I’ll ask him this Sunday and likely embarrass him in front of his own kids who don’t even know what ballroom dancing is!
Thank you, Margaret.
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hahahaha Now this is s fun Fri-Yay! Love it Nancy. At least he knew how to dance for his wedding lolš
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Very true, Cindy.
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Yep, I am that 12 year old!
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Quite relatable, I fear, especially for male of the species.
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Ah, the school formal. As is traditional, I mostly remember the broken hearts and dramas more than the dance steps. I did end up dancing with the Headmaster of the boys’ school though, so hopefully I remembered them at the time!
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Ooh yes, Jen! I hope you remembered them, too!
So much adolescent angst.
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I hope you took pictures. That may be the last two times he ever dances…
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Of course. The most important days in my sons’ lives.
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those were the days… š
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How times change.
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I was in my late teens before I took up the courage to get on a dance floor. Good thing I did though.
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Twelve years old, IMO, is too young take ballroom dancing seriously …. unless pursuing a career as a professional.
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Yes, twelve is too young. For the guys, it’s better to wait for a bit more ballroom š
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When I was in 6th grade, there was some circumstance (I can’t remember once) where the teacher played music. The girls wanted to dance but we boys didn’t. So the girls danced with each other. At age 11, I was kind of scared of girls.
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I’m sure you were not the only one.
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Well, at least he could dance at those very important times!
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Very true, D. And lovely times they were.
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I loved this Nancy. I wrote about something similar from personal experience. I hope you don’t mind me sharing it:
‘For the school social I gargled Listerine. The pain felt reassuring. I sprayed my hair with Mumās hairspray, āTaftā.
In the school hall, we shuffled to Totoās āAfricaā. Girls on the other side, giggled about stuff weāll never be privy to. They did, however, have pert adolescent tits. We puffed out our chests, bobbing over exaggeratedly to the beat.
The girl of my dreams, South African-born Cheryl V hardly notices me as I do everything in my power just to meet her eyes. The next day she went steady with an acquaintance of mine.
He later told me, āSometimes all you need is 20 seconds of insane courage, just literally 20 seconds of embarrassing bravery, and I promise you something great will come of it.ā
I replied, āDid you just buy a fucking zooā?
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I don’t mind one bit, Matt. It’s all about sharing here. ā”āļø
I love this story of yours!
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I have written worse. Thanks for reading it.
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Dance class…memories š šŗ
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First love.
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Such an exciting time…..
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š
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Dance lessons were compulsory at my school. The boys would line up opposite the girls in height order, then advance forward with some of us zig-zagging to make sure we got the partner we most fancied!
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Charming, Keith. Thank you!
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It’s true. I have never once used The Dashing White Sergeant since learning it at school
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A pity. I imagine you look quite dapper in a kilt.
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pressure…. Peer pressure, parent pressure. #### it.
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That’s exactly what it is. Two years later our other son flatly refused to go and that was the end of ballroom dancing for our family.
We don’t travel in the circle of boutonniĆØres and white gloves anyway.
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Nor do we ššš
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Better to know it and not need it than need it and not know it. Great story.
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That’s one theory.
I would agree with you if it were CPR but it’s not.
Thanks, Sweets!
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A skill is a skill no matter how… seemingly useless? š
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Sage advice given and received! It’s always a bonus to know how to dance a few steps. Lovely story, Nancy
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Just one of the many life lessons we encounter.
Honestly, I’m sure the kids agreed to dance lessons for the weekly ice cream meet-up at Baskin Robbins afterwards.
Merci beaucoup mon cher ami.
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Indeed.
And hey, it’s a valid excuse to participate in the lessons… plus, they were not for naught (even if only used twice thus far š )
Mon plaisir ma chĆØre amie š
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A lovely story. Iām glad your son signed up to please you
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It was a social event but the peer pressure was strong.
Thank you, Sadje.
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My pleasure
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I guess dancing justisn’t his thing! But he can always say “I tried”!
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As long as they can get on the dance floor, move a little and not look like total clods, my sons are content. They are not easily ruffled.
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