We express ourselves in dance through movement and stillness. Having clear descriptions of motion supports our growth as dancers and dance instructors. Since Einstein, physicists have realized that all motion is relative, and its description depends on the frame of reference. When it comes to dance, what are the reference frames we can describe movement relative to?
There are three reference frames we can speak from. We can speak of movement relative to 1) the space, 2) our partner, and 3) another part of our body. When we take a sidestep together, our hands move relative to space but stay fixed relative to our partner and our torso. While pivoting, we may have our hips move relative to our torso while our torso stays fixed in space. Each frame of reference provides unique insights, and understanding a movement relative to all three reference points provides a fuller understanding of the dance.
Most movements have an invariance, where one of the reference frames remains fixed throughout the motion. Finding the invariance is especially useful for understanding a movement. It is much easier to keep something fixed than to know how much to move, especially when the size of step or rotation changes. Often, the invariance is in the embrace, providing an oasis of calm for our partner as we move in space. A volcada, for example, has the invariance in our own body where we keep our own alignment while tilting. With dynamics such as compressions and elastic movements, we tend to keep a point fixed in space that our partners and ourselves both move relative to.
The three reference points help us communicate better, both as a teacher and as a student. Seemingly contradictory advice is often actually the same advice from different reference frames. Our arms sometimes have to move more in space to be able to provide a still embrace relative to our partner. One teacher may tell us to move our arms more, and another tells us to move our arms less, but they are both giving the same feedback just from different reference frames.
Feedback from our partner is often about what they are feeling, which coincides with how we are moving relative to their body. When a teacher shows us a new move, the advice is often how we move our body relative to ourselves. Comments from outside observers tend to be about how we move in space. Each type of feedback gives a new perspective. Seek out information from all three reference frames and then combine them to a fuller understanding of the dance.
I recently took a series of workshops with Jonathan and Clarisa. The Friday classes were a “Seminar on the Basics” while the Saturday and Sunday classes covered the more advanced topic of changes of dynamics. Something I found interesting was, while the Saturday and Sunday classes were completely booked, noticeably less people attended Friday. Talking with some people about this, they mentioned they thought a class focusing on basics was meant for more beginner dancers, so they waited to take the advanced seminars. Is a basics class a beginner class, or are they different? What are the different types of classes and who are they for? And what does class level mean?
Here is a taxonomy I developed which I find useful for both understanding the different types of classes and for when I design my own classes. Classes can be broken down into topics, where a topic denotes a move, technique point, musical concept, drill, or really any distinct component. Topics can be simple or complex, with complex topics being more challenging to do successfully. Classes can cover a few simple topics, many simple topics, a few complex topics, or many complex topics.
A back sacada is more complex than an ocho because there are more potential points of failure with a back sacada than with leading or following an ocho. But this does not mean one is easier than the other. What separates simple from complex topics is less the challenge on the high end and more of the chance of failure on the low end. We can make even the simplest step very challenging by adding enough detail. In fact, perhaps the most impressive thing someone can do in tango is a simple movement with exquisite detail. The fidelity that each topic is covered is another dimension of classes. Walking may be as simple as putting one foot in front of the other (low fidelity). It can also be very high fidelity with posture, connection, muscles, joint mechanics, and timing. Thus, we have a taxonomy of eight potential types of classes, as shown in the table below.
Low Fidelity
High Fidelity
Few simple topics
Beginner Class
Fundamentals Class
Many simple topics
Intermediate Class
X
Few complex topics
X
Advanced Class
Many complex topics
Master Class
X
Beginner classes cover the basics, going over a few simple topics in light detail to give new dancers a chance for success. Fundamentals classes similarly covers basics but do so in high fidelity. Beginner classes are not fundamentals classes and fundamentals are not just for beginners. Unfortunately, tango commonly combines beginner and fundamentals classes, leading to new dancers feeling overwhelmed and more experienced dancers having critical gaps in their knowledge base.
Intermediate classes teach how to string sequences together and layer topics such as navigation and musicality to the movements. The challenge comes not from the individual steps or details, more from the combination of factors. Advanced classes actually cover less topics but cover more difficult topics in more detail. Master classes combine complex topics to show new possibilities, highlight areas for improvement, and help break out of old patterns. The different classes serve different purposes, and the level of a class does not coincide with the level of dancer that should take the class. Someone dancing for less than a year can get a lot of benefit from an intermediate or advanced class, and fundamentals classes are valuable at all stages of development.
So, what do the big X marks in the table represent? In the movie The Prince’s Bride, the protagonist is imprisoned in ‘The Pit of Despair’, a torture chamber where his lifeforce is slowly sucked away. This seems a rather fitting description of a bad tango class. The three X’s mark tango class pits of despair to be avoided at all cost.
We have two guides which indicate where the pits of despair lie. The first is the ratio of walking to talking. Take the class time spent doing divided by the class time where the teacher is talking. If the walking-to-talking ratio is below one, there is a good chance the class is falling into a pit of despair. The second guide is the success ratio, which is the number of times students succeed divided by the number of times they. A low success ratio leads to frustration and scares students away from the topic.
Classes are like maps in that there is a limited amount of information which can be presented. You can’t show a large area in detail on a map; nor can you teach many topics in high fidelity. If you try, then you end up talking more than doing and you end up torturing more than teaching. Complex topics also need sufficient detail for a decent success ratio. You can gloss over a lot of the nuances of a sidestep and still have beginner dancers successfully lead and follow one. Gloss over the details while teaching leader ganchos and your students are in for a different experience. Master classes can get away with teaching complex topics in low fidelity because they assume the students already have some level of mastery of the individual elements.
Something interesting about the Jonathan and Clarissa workshops was that the Friday class on the basics ended up being the most useful. As we can now see, they were not beginner classes, but fundamentals classes, which laid the structure for the rest of the weekend.
Analogies structure how we understand the world, mapping what we know onto what we want to discover. An apt analogy guides our path forward and highlights pitfalls to avoid, while an inappropriate analogy leaves us lost. What analogies do we use to conceptualize learning? And are they apt or do they mislead us?
We liken learning to constructing a skyscraper. Teachers give us “a solid foundation” and we “build from the ground up.” We discuss “levels” of difficulty and “levels” of proficiency. While the skyscraper analogy is common, it is inappropriate. My thesis is that a more apt analogy is that our learning and development can be best compared with how a tree grows.
Skyscraper construction starts at the foundation and builds upwards. The foundation needs to be rock solid before adding on top of it or the whole structure will be unstable. A flaw in one level requires everything above to be torn down and rebuilt. Once a level is built, you move on to the next floor. Levels also have a hierarchy, with each new floor considered more prestigious than the ones below it.
The skyscraper analogy to learning implies movements and concepts are either 1) at our current level, 2) above us (too hard), or 3) below us (too easy). Under the skyscraper analogy, if a student wants to learn a back sacada but doesn’t have a perfect pivot, then we tell them they need to wait until they have a more solid foundation. Once we can do boleos and ganchos, then a class on walking and ochos is clearly too low of a level for us. When we take a private and the instructor points out a flaw in our technique, then we are devastated because we have to tear everything down and start from square one. Viewing learning like constructing a building means we don’t practice concepts and movements that are at a level we think is above us, and we don’t revisit concepts and movements that are below us.
Contrast this with how a tree grows. A small seed that sprouts into a sapling, spreading its roots, trunk, branches, and leaves. Growth occurs simultaneously downwards, outwards, and upwards. Even the smallest sapling has leaves reaching towards the sun, and even the largest oak continues growing roots. Each year the trunk adds a new ring, and every part of the tree is equally important to its health and growth.
Embracing the tree analogy guides us in a different direction to how we approach learning. Novel and complex movements feed our creativity while also motivating us to continue growing our roots and trunk (our fundamentals). We think of lessons less in terms of levels and more in terms of what new tree ring it adds to our dance. Imperfections are not a cause to tear down and restart, but instead signal for new branches that we can begin developing. Instead of avoiding feedback and what it tells us about our level, we seek information because it is the nutrients that allow our flowers to blossom. The learning process is no longer an imposing inanimate object but is instead an organic and ever-growing living thing.
What should we look for in an instructor? And as an instructor, what do we need to provide our students to support their growth? Categorizing instruction into the three roles of teacher, trainer, and mentor is useful for answering these questions. A teacher conveys information, getting the student to understand something they did not know before. A trainer helps get information into the student’s body, getting the student to be able to do something they could not do before. And a mentor shows the student a path forward and supports their feelings and emotions along their journey.
A teacher is responsible for the knowledge component of learning. Teachers give us information on what to do and how to do it. Go to a class and most of your interaction with the instructor will be them teaching you information. The mark of a good teacher is that their students have a good mental model of what we need to do to become a better dancer. Learning consists of both knowing what to do and being able to do it. Teachers deal with the knowledge component and are therefore necessary but not sufficient for learning.
A Trainer helps convert knowledge in our head into understanding in our whole body. Training tends to involve less talking and more doing, using a few well-designed drills and well-chosen words to build competency. As a trainer, it is better to say one thing a hundred times than to say a hundred things once, and sometimes the best is to get the point across without saying anything at all. A trainer’s job is to boil down the information given by the teacher into small packets that the student can focus on. The teacher shows the student what they are trying to do, the trainer gives them feedback on when they need to put their focus to achieve this and when they are progressing in the right direction.
A Mentor plays a more infrequent but equally vital role in a student’s development. The job of a mentor is to ensure the components for growth are in place and remove barriers to learning. While the teacher and trainer take care of the student’s day to day growth, a mentor gives broader guidance and encouragement throughout their journey. Broadly speaking, trainers focus on what to do in the next minute, teachers focus on what to do in the next week, and mentors focus on what to do in the next year. Suggesting teachers to study with, guidance on how to structure practice, and pointing the student in the right direction of music to listen to and performers to watch all fall under mentoring.
Mentors help the student process their feelings and emotions; something especially important for newer dancers. Experienced dancers, inoculated to the social dance experience, can easily forget the raw emotions that come with your first dance event. Finding the courage to ask someone to dance. Processing when your cabeceo is not returned. Understanding your emotions when you are not asked to dance for several tandas or when you are thanked after one song. Having support when someone acts inappropriately at the milonga. Strategies for having a positive experience at a festival or marathon. Navigating partner dynamics. Finding a healthy balance between the desire to dance and the needs of other aspects of life. All these moments are the job of a mentor to help the student navigate. Having support during these moments makes the difference between the student becoming a lifelong dancer where tango enriches their life, and the student experiencing emotional damage and finding another hobby.
The three roles of teacher, trainer, and mentor can be played by different people, but can also be played by the same person. As a student, it is helpful to know what role we are looking for in an instructor at a given time, and as an instructor it is useful to know what role will be most helpful to the student in each moment. I believe that knowing which role to play is one of the most important skills of an instructor, more important even than knowing what information to share or how to structure a class.
Say we are working with a student on their forward walk. We may start in teacher mode, discussing and demonstrating the physics concept of equal and opposite reaction to explain how, to go forward, we use our standing leg to push the floor backwards. We summarize with the phrase “drive the floor backwards to step forward.” Once the student has a clear path forward then we go into trainer mode and practice the concept, using the cue ‘drive’ to connect with this concept. We have the student practice with several different movements, giving short corrections and words of encouragement. At the end of practice, we may switch into mentor mode and show the student how to approach filming themselves so that they can practice their walk on their own. The power of separating roles is that it provides clear guidance on the amount and type of information to provide. We can say a single word such as ‘drive’ while the student is in motion, whereas it would make little sense to try and explain Newtonian physics in the middle of a movement. Similarly, repeating a single word would be of little help without the previously teaching what that word refers to.
The instructor categories help us understand how the needs of the student change as they progress. Beginner students primarily need mentors to process their new experiences, which is why what makes a good beginner instructor is often different from what makes a good instructor for intermediate or advanced dancers. As the student grows, teaching and training take center stage. Advanced dancers often require less teaching and more training. Advanced dancers also need more mentoring to help them choose where to focus their attention.
Relative needs of each category by dancer level.
Separating the different roles helps us avoid some common instructor pitfalls. One common pitfall as a teacher is to expect immediate change in our students. Teaching is like planting seeds, where the flowers of understanding may blossom weeks or months after the learning is planted. When inevitably information does not produce immediate change, we give more information and more information, overloading our students and hindering their progress. Worse, we may blame our students, thinking that they are lazy or “they just don’t get it.” Once we separate teacher from trainer, and mentor, we allow for separation from the information we give as a teacher and the progress that comes through training. We also allow separation from the information and the broader structure that enables learning.
