I am not a tango instructor

               I am not a tango instructor. I am a tango dancer. I used to be a whitewater river guide and I wonder if that is a problem.

               I was at practica on Tuesday and a newbie asked me to tell her what she was doing wrong. In tango there are no mistakes, a concept beginners have a difficult time understanding. A follower who anticipates often makes improper weight changes. It is incumbent upon the leader to ignore the misstep and begin another movement on whichever foot she has free. This is one of the great challenges to becoming a leader.

               When a women no longer apologizes for her mistakes and begins to assume the leader will disregard the blunder, she is no longer a novice but an experienced tanguera. The uninterrupted ‘flow’ of movement to the rhythm and melody of the song is more important than our knee-jerk reaction to apologize.

               Here is an observation I must impart before I go any further: a woman’s first tanda is often her best for a very long time. A testament to this fact is the presence of so many skilled leaders at Fran Chesleigh’s Practica for beginners at Dance Manhattan on Saturday afternoons: http://www.newyorktango.com/PracticaCalendar.htm. They are there to dance with newbies.

               The reason for this, I believe, is the degree of attentiveness exhibited by the follower. She is nervous and knows nothing, she is watching, hearing and feeling everything. If she can calm her nerves and make the weight changes, there will be an incredible dance that will not be repeated until she masters the fundamental movements in tango: walking, pausing, pivoting, molinete. This takes about eighteen months.

               Which brings me back to this Tuesday’s practica and my assertion that I am not an instructor. After a woman’s first tanda, she is a literal mess and badly in need of some instruction. Quality lessons costs money, coaching from me is free and worth about the same amount. It is hard for me to resist a beginner’s plea for help but I must discipline myself to just say no.

               I am a whitewater river guide, heart and soul. Guides are not instructors, we’re more like guardrails to keep you on the highway or between the shorelines. In the chaos of the rapids, I would rescue helpless customers, throwing them back in their rafts by the straps of their underwear: no permission requested and no apologies offered. 

               The river doesn’t wait for anyone and a guide learns to operate to the rhythm of the river. If a raft gets stuck on a rock, I would get the customers into the end of the raft furthest from the rock. If they didn’t move, I would throw/push/kick them where I needed them to be. We did whatever we needed to do to make it safely down the rapids. This is a beautiful concept. It is truth and the truth is beautiful but it only works when you have a captive audience and a swift current to punish the unwilling. Hurt feelings could be addressed later; everyone listens when they think they are going to drown.

               On the dance floor, no one moves unless they understand how or why, there should be no pushing here. Motivating a tanguera to move across the floor must be done with skill and extreme sensitivity. A person’s ability to express fundamental tango concepts to another person is the difference between an instructor and me. I say whatever is on my mind and I teach whatever I find pleasing and this often results in hurt feelings:-(

               At practica, I repeated a ‘lesson’ I had given many times to mixed results. The young lady I was dancing with asked me to correct her. When I led her to ‘pasada’, she completed the maneuver like a commuter going through a turnstile in the subway. This is a moment in the dance that I relish immensely. It's execution is of great interest to me. The way she passes over my foot tells me a lot about her: how she hears the music, her skill level, her interest in me and much more.

                I stopped the dance and demonstrated how other women made this pass: performing a lapiz, bringing my foot to hers, hooking my ankle into hers, then brushing the top of my shoe up the side of her stockinged calf before stepping over.

               “Be sexy,” I said, “be a woman.” This is not something an instructor would normally say but this is me and I am not an instructor, as I have said, I am just a tango dancer. I am here because I like women and I am illustrating what I find pleasing, not tango fundamentals.

               I led her into the movement again, giving her a chance to attempt it. She did it well. Too well. She brought her foot to mine, snuggled my ankle with hers then brushed the top of her foot up and down my calf, very slowly…seductively:-O

               “That’s too sexy!” I exclaimed, much to her embarrassment. “I’ll be following you home if you’re not careful!” This is something a river guide, an uneducated and uncouth child of the Pocono Plateau, would say…and did. I said it loud and I said it proud. She departed shortly afterwards. Excusing herself politely and skillfully. Unlike me, she had manners and knew how to use them.

               I was hurt. I felt bad about the way I conducted myself. I felt bad because she left. On the ride home I came to realize what the truth might be: I am not an instructor. I never will be. I enjoy women too much and can't control what I say. I am captivated by my partners’ beauty, grace, aroma, touch. I think women appreciate that as long as I am respectful and sincere. The truth is still beautiful but it can be hurtful and should be delivered by a person qualified to do so. Not me.