Nurturing vs. Shaming

Trey, 12 years old, had his first Hip-Hop dance class today and it didn't go well. He folded his arms during much of the class, tucking them under his armpits instead of moving them rhythmically to the music as he has many times in my presence.

In a class of four girls and two boys, he is the only African-American kid except for his instructor, a beautiful and youthful long-haired, well-toned junior in college. She told the class she is a psychology major.

I asked Trey if he wanted me to stay or leave. Niyah and Tort were downstairs in their water color painting class. He asked me to stay and I sat on the opposite side of the gym from the class. They warmed up with 20-minutes of stretches. I thought Trey looked kinda stiff given that I have seen him do back flips off picnic tables. Don't you have to be very flexible to do that, I thought to myself?

At just about the time I was noticing his folded arms and lack of participation, he turned and mouthed to me "This is boring."

"If it's so boring," I thought to myself, "Why don't you at least show off what you know?"

Now it was time to get Niyah and Tort from their class. They joined me in watching Trey during the last 30 minutes of his.

"He's not participating!" Niyah said a few minutes after observing her brother.

"He's embarrassed," Tort offered.

"It's because we're here," Niyah said.

The instructor noticed, too, and tried to engage Trey more. When she asked the class to indicate with a thumbs up or a thumbs down how they were doing, Trey was the only one to give a thumbs down each time she asked. She gave him a little extra attention but that didn't seem to help.

Even during the break dance moves, which Trey knows so well, he made little effort. And during the freestyle period towards the end, he didn't bust a move like he has so many times before.

By this point I was feeling disappointed in him and resentful of the money I had spent on the class. In my head a voice wanted me to say to him, "I thought you liked dancing? Couldn't you at least show a little effort? I spent good money on this class for you and I thought you would like it. You're not trying."

Experience with words like these growing up taught me not to say what I was thinking. I had the insight in that moment to question these judgmental thoughts and to not let them separate me from my love for him.

I went up to him after the class and he repeated "This was boring."

I was open and I paused before I spoke. Before I could say anything, Trey added, "It was hard."

So that was it. It was hard and his response was to shut down. This was useful information to have. I am so glad that in that crucial moment, I didn't say anything to add to his difficultly. I could have easily made a mistake and turned his uncomfortable feelings into shame through my words. Instead, I just listened.

I spoke to the instructor in private. "I thought you did a great job," I said. "I don't know what was wrong with Trey. I've never seen him like this. He can dance. He said he was bored. And I don't think he was because afterward he told me it was hard. If he doesn't want to stick with it, could his 16 year old sister take his place?"

"Sure," the instructor said. And she thought she could work with Trey.

I rejoined Trey and his sister and brother. "Trey, do you not want to come next week?" I offered.

"I want to come," he said to my surprise.

"That's great I said. I know you're a good dancer. And I know this was hard for you. I think you'll find that if you stick with it, it will get less hard and you'll be different at the end of the class than you are today. You'll grow and you'll be proud of the changes in yourself."

He nodded.



We went to Subway after class. Niyah and Tort busted a move in the restaurant while Trey watched. I think he's shy and only expresses his vulnerable side around people he feels comfortable and safe with.

After lunch, we joined Emily, her brother, John, and her three nephews, Jack, Bobby and Peter at Hessel Park. Emily was in a bright red wig with painted face and high heeled blue boots and colorful clothes. Many little kids came up to her in the park because they wanted to see the clown.

The five boys and Niyah tackled each other and Trey did flips off the picnic table and we played in a swing taking turns rocking them all until they were silly with laughter.

The day ended with glee and promises between the kids to visit each other.

Later at home I shared the challenges of the dance class with Emily and she was proud of how I handled Trey's emotions so respectfully. Me, too. Me, too.

And I am proud of him for being willing to try again next week. He and I have a deal that next week, just before class, I will video tape him dancing and we will show the video to his instructor so she knows what he is capable of.