new rubrics (part 1)

In the course of the fall semester I developed a couple of new rubrics and put them to use. A good rubric can be invaluable in organizing your thinking to make the process of grading a physical art form as objective as possible. Over the years, I've come to realize that creating a rubric is an exercise in deciding what is important, what you truly care about seeing and consider excellent; and this process was certainly no exception.

The first new rubric was for performance tests. The rubric I had used and revised over many years had up to five categories (three or four for minor tests): Preparation/sequence, Energy, Technique, Musical timing, and Focus/stage presence. Here is that one:

As I was grading my spring performance finals, I grew more and more dissatisfied with the categories. "Preparation / sequence" was pretty straightforward (ranging from "solid enough to lead the rest of the dancers" to "lots of mistakes or completely dependent on other dancers"), as was "Focus" (taking into account things such as engaging with the audience, covering mistakes, and staying in character). But "Energy" felt a bit problematic, as "advanced" in that category — "full-out performance with excellent energy" — often seemed to be not quite what I was looking for in many dance styles. "High energy" would not come close to describing the subtle energy dynamics of 'auana hula, for just one example. So I started to think in terms of the dance element Energy and all it entails — smooth vs. sharp, weight, tension, flow, movement qualities — and moved that category more in the direction of using force and energy appropriate to the dance form.

I had also had trouble with the "Technique" category for years — I had started out including things like "clean lines, precise footwork, arms and legs stretched and feet pointed" as examples of attention to technical details, but ended up again feeling that my wording did not cover what I was looking for, as stretched arms and pointed feet are not necessarily a part of good technique in all dance forms. So I remembered something my mentor Patricia had said years ago (in relation to teaching creative work versus teaching technique): "after all, what is technique if not the elements of dance, applied?" That set me thinking that what we ordinarily think of as technical skill includes the energy dynamics and musical timing that I had broken out into separate categories... And then it started to click: so what was it that I was really looking for (what was important to me) in that category I called "technique"? Of course — shape! All those years, when grading "technique," I had really been most concerned with students creating the shapes appropriate for the dance form (which may include those pointed feet... or not). And if I started to think more broadly about Space, then amplitude, facings, and so many other things I had neglected to include would be covered...

From there, it was an easy jump to realizing that I simply needed to base my rubric on the elements of dance. It would still contain five categories, as the Preparation and Focus categories would remain; but the other three would reflect Space, Energy, and Time. Here is what I came up with:

I used the new rubric for all the fall semester performance finals, and it did work much better for me — no longer was I looking at details which seemed to fit into more than one category and having to decide where to note them. I found I could be much clearer in my thinking, now that I had acknowledged what I had really been looking at all along!

Of course, all rubrics are works in progress, so I will continue to refine this one... 

... and one more — ballet!

Wow — it's been more than a month! I always say the school year is like a marathon, and the last month is the sprint at the end of the marathon… what with performance season and all, I just plain ran out of time for writing. So I'll use some of the summer to recap what I would have written over the last month or so, in the best chronological order I can…

Our last dance form of the year was ballet, which I usually introduce to my beginners with the world dance forms in spring semester, as classical dance of Europe. This is the one that surprised me, when I polled students in the fall about which forms they most wanted to learn – so many students are interested in ballet! I always think of teens as more focused on hip hop and more flamboyant forms (like Samba); but they seem to be almost universally fascinated with Polynesian dances, and also ballet – I have to keep reminding myself that teenage girls (the vast majority of my students, of course) really want to look pretty, and they do think of ballet that way…

We of course finally got the chance to use the ballet barres for barre work every day — really just pliés, relevés, tendus and rondes de jambes, since classes are so short — and it was a delight to see how diligently they concentrated on their work at the barre! Then I set a dance to an instrumental piece by Ludovico Einaudi. I was surprised that many students seemed to recognize it — some asked me "was that song in a movie?" (of course, since I am entirely not attuned to pop culture, I had absolutely no idea).

Since we were only studying ballet for two-three weeks, I made the dance a fairly simple waltz, with one section of passés, pas de bourées, and port de bras; one of chainé turns and pas de chats; and some chassé-arabesque sautés. Since we had run out of time for a choreography project on choreographic forms, I also set the first section in canon form and the second section in antiphonal / call-and-response form, to at least begin to get across those concepts.

The students were for the most part completely enchanted with learning classical ballet — when it came time to sign up for dances to perform at the dance showcase (more about that later), more students wanted to perform ballet than almost any other dances (except for the Polynesian forms). Of course their technique was not perfect yet (lots still had to think hard about pointing their feet), but they worked very hard on the form. I think I will start the second-level classes with ballet next year!

end-of-semester dance practice

Since I decided against a fall semester choreography final (because of the inconvenient timing of winter break), this week the dance classes have been practicing all four dance sequences we have learned over the semester. Students will choose their one best dance to perform for the final, in small-to-medium groups. The dances we learned are:

1. Basic jazz — the vocabulary of jazz squares, pivots, pas de bourées, and kick ball-changes that are the standard building blocks of so much musical theater choreography. I like to set my jazz dances to classic Motown; this year it is Marvin Gaye's version of "I Heard it Through the Grapevine" (a bit of a dance joke, since our first step is a grapevine).

2. Michael Jackson's Thriller, which we performed at Hallowe'en — and which I keep reminding them is a jazz dance, choreographed in Fosse style.

3. Hip hop — I always tell students I don't teach much hip hop per se, even though they all want to learn it, because "you know more than I do"; but I did reconstruct a one-minute bit of choreography from one of EOSA's dance festival pieces, which we worked on for a week.

4. Last but certainly not least, Lindy hop and Big Apple, which we worked on just before the break. I am particularly fond of these historical social dances because I learned and performed them while dancing with Westwind Folk Ensemble — our Lindy hop teacher/choreographer was a student of Frankie Manning, so I can say I'm only two steps away from the source (I also learned a great deal about traditional jazz dance from some invaluable workshops with Karen Hubbard of the University of North Carolina at a couple of NDEO conferences).

Conflicted as I have been about finishing the semester with only two choreography projects under our belts, it has actually been a very joyful week in my class (especially considering the typical stresses of the week before final exams). These kids are hungry to learn dance steps and sequences, and have been practicing them with great enthusiasm. At our last session on Friday in my 5th period class, after running through all the dances once I asked the class "we have time to run one again, which shall we do?" They all yelled eagerly "Lindy hop!" So we ran it again, and they immediately asked "can we do it one more time?" "Well, it's a two-and-a-half minute dance and we have two minutes until time to pack up and get dressed, but... Okay!" Lindy hop fiends — It's a joy to watch them dance!

technique vs. improvisation / composition

Saturday morning I attended a collegial brunch for east bay dance teachers, organized by the California Dance Education Organization. There were four of us from public schools scattered around the east bay from Richmond to Antioch, along with two graduate students studying dance pedagogy at Mills College and a handful of undergrads from UC Berkeley who teach in various elementary schools and private programs in Berkeley.

It is always gratifying to be able to connect with other dance teachers, since — unlike math or English teachers — we are usually the only ones on our campuses. There were of course some lively conversations about our programs, upcoming events, and the like... But the most interesting discussion for me was the perpetual dilemma of how much technique instruction and improvisation/composition work we include in our classes.

I come to the subject from a long-time focus on moving student choreographers beyond the "cute steps to cool music" stage. At the high school where I did my student teaching years ago, the program had been focused almost entirely on improvisation and the principles of composition — and I could certainly see the difference in the sophistication of the student choreography. When I observed the performances at other high schools, I saw that the dancers were technically proficient, but their dances were essentially collections of their favorite steps and flashy tricks, usually performed in unison; whereas the students at my student-teaching school were using canon and antiphonal forms, varied groupings, and a wide range of moods and qualities... and more than that, their dances often had personal meaning (beyond "these are my favorite moves"). So from the very beginning of my public school career, I knew which direction I wanted to go.

But it is that mix — how much technique work? How much improvisation? — that is difficult to get just right. One of my colleagues, who originally came from a contact improvisation background, said that she has gravitated more and more towards technique over the years (even though she finds it much more difficult to teach), because her students so much want to learn steps and phrases and dances... and she wants her classes to be joyful. I certainly can't disagree — in my experience, students who begin dance as teenagers expect to be taught steps and movements, and are uncomfortable with improvisation until they have a fair amount of experience under their belts. (Although, in my work in East Oakland, I had more of a dichotomy between the boys and the girls: the boys loved improvisation, since many of them already practiced improvisational street dance forms such as TURF dance; while the girls tended to look at me as if I'd lost my mind when I asked them to improvise).

And yet and yet... as a choreographer, I can't forget the difference in the dances of students trained in the craft of choreography and the elements of dance — and helping students to create meaning will always be a priority for me. My compromise is that I work in units and I try to do about half-and-half: every technique unit is followed by a few directed improvisation lessons, leading into a choreography project. It worked for me at EOSA (although I did always get those girls complaining about explorations when "you haven't taught me how to dance yet," eventually they got the creation bug)... and so far at DeAnza, my beginners have been remarkably open to exploring the elements and working on choreography (maybe because more of them have some studio experience already?). I will be interested to see how my thinking evolves as I work in my new program...

Thriller

For the last two weeks of October we are working on the dance sequence from Michael Jackson's Thriller. I remembered trying to teach a little bit of it to my middle school students last year — and it occurred to me that, in terms of making my dance program visible, what could possibly be better than a Thriller flashmob in the quad at lunch on Hallowe'en? I put it out to the kids, and had plenty enough enthusiastic responses to go ahead with it.

(Ordinarily I might be a little leery of performing someone else's choreography... but since there is an organization called Thrill the World which teaches steps and organizes simultaneous performances around the world every year, I figure I'm probably okay with this one).

I introduced the dance by reminding students that this is a serious, technical jazz dance, choreographed by a Broadway choreographer in an apparently Fosse-inspired style… and that it wold be difficult, but that we would do the best we can with it (and have fun too). We're currently in the middle of it, and although some of the technical details are going to be beyond my beginning students, some of the dancers are doing quite well with the material — and there are a few who seem to have been studying the video all their lives, and are often one step ahead of me in teaching it!

One thing that was interesting to me about all this was that when I asked my classes how many of them had ever seen the Thriller video at least once, nearly every hand went up. I realized that the video was made more than thirty years ago… When I was in high school, thirty-year-old music was from the big band era of the war years (there, I've just dated myself), and no one but no one was still listening to it — we'd been through the '60s and protest music, after all, and were way too cool for that old stuff! So the idea that kids these days can still appreciate music from the '80s is kind of amazing to me. Michael Jackson certainly has some staying power, at any rate.

What do we mean by "technique"…?

A few weeks ago I spent two days at Luna's Advanced Summer Institute with a half-dozen other dance teachers and three mentors. We had a lot of excellent discussions, among them one that comes up often — the roles of creativity vs. technique in dance programs. What was so interesting to me about this conversation was how differently we may think about things that I had pretty much taken for granted — in this instance, what we mean when we say "technique."

We started by quick-writing our own definitions of creativity and technique. I focused on the technique side (since "creativity" seemed daunting to take on in a short quick-write). I came to the question from a lifetime of modern dance training, taking classes in Hawkins technique, Weidman technique, Limón technique, Cunningham technique, Horton technique… So my experience with "technique" as a dance term was very much as a particular way of doing things — those "stylistic nuances" in the content standards, that differentiate one way of moving from another… So I wrote in my quick-write "technique = the correct (and safe) way to perform any particular style."

When we got to the discussion, Patricia, one of our mentors, suggested a very different definition from mine — that technique is the skill set that enables you to perform in whatever style you choose. We talked about the definition a lot, and came to the conclusion that this also implies learning the analytic skills that enable you to understand and internalize those differences — so that technique is all that gives a dancer the ability to know and show the differences between Cecchetti and Vaganova, or Weidman and Hawkins, or a Hawai'ian hula and a Tahitian 'aparima… the skills (both physical and analytical) that allow you to perform an attitude effacée or a Graham contraction or a fa'atere, and to get those nuances just right.

This was sort of a revelation for me, that there could be such a different way of thinking about technique. What it brought to mind for me was an idea that we had talked about in years past, that students who learn dance in a creative dance class, through the elements of space, time, and force/energy, are learning technique — that technique could be nothing other than a careful application of line, shape, size/range, weight, movement quality, flow, rhythm, accent, etc. I haven’t got it all worked out, of course, but it’s an interesting idea to think about...

On the other hand, I know I will continue to teach particular dance styles (whether it be Hawkins, Cecchetti, Dunham, kahiko hula, Bulgarian, or whatever), and probably call it “technique” (old habits die hard) — but perhaps at least with a different perspective on why I’m using that term. Good food for further thought, at any rate.