you just can't square dance on the beach

A recent conversation with H revealed that an integral part of my physical education--the Square Dance--was not a part of the curriculum where he went to school in California. I was appalled to hear that fourth-graders out there weren't forced to devise methods of partner dancing without actually touching their cootie-infested counterparts. How else do kids learn the complex techniques that make for the stilted, awkward interactions they call *relationships* in junior high? Maybe that's why people in California are so very laid back; they don't know how to Do-si-do.

Secretly, I've always sort of enjoyed the Square Dance. There's a comfort in knowing what's supposed to come next, even if it's being coming at you from an LP of a livestock auctioneer. When you go to a nightclub, you're pretty much feeling the music and trying to move your body in such a way that other people won't feel the need to gather around you in mockery. You're constantly evaluating your own ridiculousness, holding back your real rhythmic impulses to make room for safe practices like the step-together, step-together. And you're covertly evaluating everyone else, too. That's a lot of work. Which is probably why it doesn't usually happen without professional training. Or alcohol.

But with Elementary School Square Dancing, the pressure is off. Five-hand Star? I think I remember the gym teacher explaining that one. Swing Your Partner 'Round and 'Round? His hand on my back? No way. Promenade Around the Square? Ok, I just have to get through holding his hand for exactly 3.5 seconds, and it'll be over until tomorrow.

Gym Class Square Dance isn't completely for the faint of heart. When I was in fifth grade I was partnered with this kid named Mike McCoy, who interpreted "Swing your partner" as "Fling your partner." I found it necessary to wear pants during that entire segment because the kid would spin me around so my body was parallel to the floor and I didn't want the entire class to see my Day Of the Week undies. Because attire is very important in the Square Dance. If you aspire to participate outside of class, you have to dress the part. I once barely gained entrance to the Girl Scouts' Father/Daughter Square Dance only because my navy-blue satin skirt with lace trim had more than three ruffles on it-- my dad must have used his boyish good looks to get in, because he has never owned anything remotely suitable for that kind of jamboree.

Don't get me wrong, I have all kinds of respect for actual Square Dancers. Once you get out of gym class, I understand the configurations can get quite complex and the announcer isn't just on some record the teacher slowed down so we could keep up. I saw a television segment on some serious Square Dancers once, and they meant some serious Square Dance business.

We were forced to learn it for at least one segment every year, from fourth grade until freshman year of high school, right when the idea of holding some boy's hand entirely stops being life-threatening, but long enough to teach you about keeping up appearances, hand-eye-foot--musical beat coordination and working with The Enemy. Looking back, I can't help but feel bad for H because he never got the chance to fling anyone around in the name of Physical Education. I've been asking around, and it seems they didn't teach kids Square Dance in Florida, either. What gives? Coastal people, what did you learn instead? Surfing? Because then I'd have to trade my feeling of superiority for jealousy, because a wet suit seems much cooler than bandannas and leather fringe.