I am working on the computer (trying to think of what to write about for my weekly blog post) when I hear a muffled noise coming up through the floorboards near my feet. There is music playing. I hear my daughter’s voice. She is teaching a lesson. She explains something, then talks through a demonstration, and then is quiet for a bit (I imagine her watching her student on the other side of the screen.). The music stops and I hear Morgan share a few tips for how her student can make her work even better. As I keep listening, the cycle repeats, over and over again; explain, demonstrate, observe, give feedback.
My daughter is in the basement teaching her weekly dance lesson. She is teaching my granddaughter (her niece). My granddaughter lives in Nashville and we are in Connecticut, so this weekly dance lesson has become a pretty special bonding experience for both girls, as dancers and as relatives.
I lean closer to the floor to see if I can make out what’s going on in this lesson.
“That’s it. You’re really getting the idea. Try it again. Try it like this. Watch me. Now you try. Better….so much better. Do you feel the way the arm crossed over your body that time? That’s what you want. Let’s try it again.”
Then there’s always a check in,
“How are you doing? You OK? Any questions? Do you want to grab some water?”
Then it’s back to work. There’s not much down time in this lesson. Morgan changes the music. They try something else. Morgan is clear and direct, but at the same time nurturing and encouraging. They go on like this for an hour. The cadence of the conversation going back and forth. Teacher to student. Student to teacher.
There is music, teaching, learning, and some beautiful laughter coming up through my floor tonight. Morgan; daughter, dancer and now teacher.