A Modest Proposal About School Dances

A Modest Proposal
for preventing the timid and soft-spoken students of Fairfield Junior High School from missing out on one of the most important social activities of their young lives

It is a melancholy object to those who walk through this great institution as students or travel in from the outer realms as visitors, when they attend a school dance only to find that--despite the state-of-the-art sound system, the elaborate decorations, and the prodigious number of well-dressed, attractive, and available partners--no one is dancing!

I think it is agreed by all parties that the overwhelming number of people who dress up, anticipate the thrill of the dance all day, present their ID cards at the door, giddily enter the multi-purpose room, and then stand like statues waiting for the birds to come and cover them with leaves (or other less desirable substances) for the entirety of the dance, is cause for alarm. School dances, after all, are supposed to be an integral part of the educational experience, yet it seems that they are more often cause for disappointment, disillusionment, and sometimes sheer humiliation for those involved.

Take for instance the young lady who, at 13 years old, has already reached her adult height of five feet eleven inches. Beautiful though she is, she spends the dance awkwardly hoping that one of the six boys in the entire school who is taller than she will ask her to dance because she has the all-too-common misconception that "the boy has to be taller than the girl." Conversely, consider the boy: ninth grade, still barely five feet, and just pushing 95 pounds. He spends most of the dance flailing too and fro, leaping around in a lunatic frenzy, shouting, giggling hysterically, crashing into those foolish enough to be unaware of his presence, and all for the benefit of the three other boys with whom he came to the dance. Too insecure is he to approach a girl, but when dared by a buddy to strip off his shirt and rampage across the dance floor shouting lyrics to "YMCA," he develops lion-like courage. Then there are the "contingents," those who come in groups to the dance and consequently spend most of the time conversing with people from that same group, all of whom they see continually from the moment they arrive at school until the moment they go home, and with whom they can talk any time! Some of these are the cheerleader contingent, the student officer contingent, the honor society contingent, the angry-eighth-grade-girl contingent, the goofy-eighth-grade-boy contingent, the student-athlete contingent, the outcast goth contingent (none of whom would claim to want to come to something so stupid as a school dance, but all of whom attend), the class clown contingent of those who have no problem piping up loudly in class to get a laugh but who cower in fear at the sight of a member of the opposite sex for whom they have some real feelings, the seminary contingent, the anti-seminary contingent, the I-didn't-dress-up-but-I-want-to-sneak-in-anyway contingent, the I'm-so-overdressed-that-I-can't-move contingent, the Let's-see-if-I-can wear-something-so-suggestive-that-Mr.-Swanson-will-make-me-put-on-a-sweater contingent, and there are various others who join the large amoebic masses on the misnamed "dance floor" to huddle together and talk about the most trivial things they can come up with while the object of their secret affections stands in his/her contingent and talks about equally trivial things.

I know what you're saying: After a few songs, people do start to dance. True. But at the peak of dance participation, there are never more than twenty percent of those who attend actually dancing. It's almost like it is such a huge undertaking to just ask someone and dance once, that the other twenty-three songs don't really matter. But I've taught long enough (and I was a student long enough) to know that is not the case. All those songs matter, and every one you don't dance to represents another gash in your self esteem. We all want to dance, and we all know who we'd like to dance with, but our insecurities about our looks, our intelligence, our social skills, our background, our clothes, our wit, our ideas, our religion, our height, our weight, our family, our voice, our ability, and our very selves keep us from asking that special someone...or anyone. Those who claim to not like dances aren't fooling anyone. It's natural and normal to want to associate and interact with peers, particularly those of the opposite sex, but the only way anyone ever grows to feel it's natural and normal is by doing it. It's nothing to feel guilty about. Every choice you make, every opportunity you take or avoid, sends your life down a path from which it can't return. How many opportunities have you missed by not dancing at the dance? (Or by not attending the dance for fear of rejection?)

I have the solution, and it is as simple as it is reasonable. I shall now therefore propose my own humble thoughts which I hope will not be liable to the least objection.

I have it on the authority of a colleague, who has worked in schools much longer than I, that "dance cards" promote healthy social activity. A dance card, for those unfamiliar with the term, is a card on which dance-goers collect the signatures of their partners in the weeks before the dance takes place. For example, if the dance is scheduled to last for twenty songs, all students would receive cards with twenty numbered blanks on them, and then the students would have time to search for desirable dance partners with the same available numbers on their cards.

"Are you available for song #14?" the conversation might go.

"Why, yes, I am!" might come the response. They then sign each other's card on blank #14, and this indicates that they will dance that song together. When students arrive at the dance with their cards filled, they know exactly who their partners will be for every song. No more fearful anticipation of potential rejection or aimless standing around with arms folded pretending to be above all the silliness. Students would no longer have to wonder whether they will get to dance, but rather could anticipate dancing with the variety of desirable partners who have filled their dance cards.

This solution is, in itself, unquestionably effective for those willing participants who attend every dance anyway, but for those too shy to even get a dance card filled, I offer this simple proviso to my modest proposal, which I am sure will meet with no reasonable objection: All students are required to attend and participate in every school dance. The dance card philosophy can be judiciously applied with these regulations: 1) No one will dance with the same partner more than once, 2) Should someone arrive at the dance with blank spaces on his/her card, random matches will be made from the rest of the student population whose cards are not filled, 3) In the event that no random student matches are available, a teacher- or administrator-chaperone will be substituted. Under this system, not even the most tragically shy individual will be without a dance partner, the benefits of which are many.

Presently, there are students who attend six years of secondary school without attending one social activity, some of whom never have a date or a good friend. This is the great failure of an educational system who claims, as ours does, to educate "the whole child." Ever more frequently, we hear from the business communities that schools fail to teach students the appropriate social skills necessary in today's work force. "They can't deal with other people effectively," say the most recent reports. We are pumping out a generation of great test takers who have no social skills. By requiring dance attendance and participation, the schools would be giving students valuable social experiences that would benefit them in later life and make them more effective members of the global economy.

Dance attendance not only makes for a brighter financial future, but also for a brighter physical one. Have you looked around lately at the staggering number of kids who are growing progressively more out of shape, their only physical activity being the purposeful press of a thumb against the buttons on the TV remote? Simply put, required dance participation will keep kids in better shape. I need not remind you that dancing is an aerobic activity which burns calories a lot faster than staring into a computer monitor does. And speaking of computers....

One of the greatest dangers to our youth today is the veritable infestation of computers in homes and schools. Technology is fine when used purposefully, but many students today (particularly those shy ones who wouldn't willingly attend a dance) are using computers as their only tie to the outside world. Real friends and real experience become obsolete when compared to the hypnotic glow of this new infernal machine. Too much time in front of a computer isolates a kid, and isolation isn't often a good thing. (Just ask Ted Kazynski.) Required dance participation not only encourages healthy social interaction, but forces those who might otherwise choose--due to fear or insecurity--a life of solitary confinement to get out into the world and experience real life. So, although it would take some kids out of their so-called "comfort zone," it would be undoubtedly beneficial and educational.

The benefits of required dance participation are many, and if flaws in my proposal do exist--for none have been found and adequately proved--I am sure that said benefits far outweigh them.
I profess in the sincerity of my heart, that I have not the least personal interest in endeavoring to promote this necessary work, having no other motive than the public good of my school and my students. I, being married and gainfully employed, stand to benefit not at all from the implementation of this plan. All I would ask in return for this proposal is that I get to select the music to be played at dances from my personal collection.

The End
(apologies to Jonathan Swift)

12/16/98 (Revisited 4/24/06)