Over several Fridays, Mark Reid has advocated that we should share our dance moves; what would I do if I was asked? That reminded me of the Danish high school tradition to learn Les Lanciers, an 18th-century square dance, supposedly imported from England in 1860. Thanks to Mark and Wikipedia, I now know much more about this dance than I did when I learned to dance it, (and I have even linked a video of organized chaos somewhere below, should you need one, Mark.)
Denmark got its first school law in 1814 when the crown declared “Just because we are poor, we don’t have to be stupid.” (I find this an excellent quote and I am so happy I found an excuse to share it with you.) The law made school mandatory for all children, and although it took time to get enough teachers, by 1870 only 1% of the drafted army privates could neither read nor write while 87% could both read and write.
When my parents went to school, the mandatory part was 1st-7th. Back then, only around 4% of students continued beyond 10 years into Gymnasium, our high school, with classes 11th-13th. In my childhood, mandatory school had increased to K-9th. K-10th were all taught at the same school. In my youth, most students (70%) would still end school after 10th grade and get work or an apprenticeship.
My parents finished school after 10th and 9th grade respectively and got into very poorly paid apprenticeships, my mother as an office clerk, my father in a hardware store. My mother and her siblings had to contribute to the household. My grandfather who had built up his own business (after 7 years of school and an apprenticeship) didn’t want his sons to become “snooty academics” (like his brothers-in-law.)
The influence of these “snooty” uncles probably explains why my father thought it was a good idea that we learned Les Lanciers. Before my sister had her confirmation, which was celebrated with a party, my father had borrowed a book at the library showing the steps, had bought a record with the music, and for weeks we had been milling around in the basement in preparation.
Come our high school days, plenty of PE classes were filled with learning to master these steps. Whenever all the girls from my homeroom visited with each other for birthday parties, we would practice, and it was a hoot. Most households didn’t have the music lying around, but we counted that it had ¾ beat, and then our friend Kate would play Oh Susanna (that has the same beat) half a million times on the piano, and the rest of us would all dance around. The parents of many friends, who hadn’t had the benefit of snooty uncles, were baffled.
Knowing the dance was quite a boon at many parties during school and after graduation. Not just the graduation parties, but in many other gatherings as well. I later married an officer – as a student I hadn’t tried a variation where the ladies are carried on the shoulders, but apparently, that is a thing in some circles… And because this was a tradition all over the country, it didn’t matter where you had grown up; “everybody” knew the routine.
Decades later, when we had high school reunions, most of us still remembered all the steps.
This could just be an account of some old school memories, had it not been because I have become more attuned to how it feels being an outsider after I changed country. Today I wonder how my grandfather and my parents may have felt if this dance was used at family parties in my grandmother’s family – among the “snooty academics”? I wonder what really made my father invest many evenings in teaching us something he didn’t know already as more than “a thing”? And I wonder whether we unintentionally may have given others a feeling of not being part of “good company” when we cleared out the dining table and started a quadrille in the middle of the room? To us, it was just good (if at times somewhat chaotic) fun, but I am sure good fun that to this degree is associated with a level of education might not feel very inclusive to some people.
Bummer, writing this I suddenly realize that we haven’t taught our kids! What on Earth will they do if they are ever invited to court?
Some rather more relevant questions: what good fun do you take for granted that could feel excluding to some of your friends? How do you mitigate that? And have you been the one feeling excluded? If so, how did you mitigate that?
Featured image courtesy by Notman Studio – Captain Ferdinand James Odevaine NSARM accession no. 1992-306 no. 15 [1], Public Domain.
The question is, Charlotte, can you still perform this Danish square dance?
As to your questions of inclusion vs exclusion and how to mitigate it… well, I am of the opinion that you invite others and encourage them, offer to teach them, but ultimately the onus is on them to participate. Put another way, when I was a junior high school student I remember going to a school “dance” and I was terrified of dancing. My friends – even some pretty girls I liked – tried to coax me out on the dance floor. No way. I was having none of it! I regret that, looking back. BUT, perhaps I needed that life lesson of “missed opportunity” in order to, later in life, get my a** out there and dance no matter how ridiculous I looked or felt.
Not sure I answered the question the way you had intended, but your article did make me think quite a lot about this memory. I think I needed the initial failure of being too scared to even try in order to succeed later. These days, I am practically Fred Astaire on the dance floor (in my mind, at least).
Thanks for the story, Fred,
and yes, I can still dance the square dance – but it does take 7 other people also willing to perhaps make fools of themselves.
I am happy that my story sent you down memory lane and yes, sometimes it takes regretting saying NO to something that teaches us that yes’es give more opportunities and that we shouldn’t take ourselves too seriously.
Memories? Nothing strong comes to mind. I think it was probably ok if everyone was out of the floor participating
A good one, my friend. Brought back memories of elementary school gym class – or was it middle school? – where we learned to square dance. Dosey doe and all that. Ha!
I think it is middle school, Jeff, at least it was for my children.
I think that is probably a time where dancing in bright lights in front of your peers is as embarrassing as it ever gets and wonder if your memories were fond or perhaps better left alone?