In my first year of high school, in an attempt to feel more comfortable at school dances, I decided to take dancing classes. My first lesson was also my last. I was not only the sole male in the class, but also at least seven years older than the next oldest student. When the teacher explained to me (in front of the roomful of giggling, preteen ballerinas) that I would have to wear a dance belt, I was mildly embarrassed. When the teacher further explained that a dance belt was not, in fact, some kind of girdle but actually more akin to an industrial-strength jock strap, I gathered up what was left of my pride and left the class. That half-hour session just reinforced what I already knew: dancing is hard. It's hard to learn, hard to teach... More >>>