The 1980s
I loved getting ready for school dances. My best friend, C, and I would try on outfits, style each other’s hair, and apply make-up. This was unusual for us since we were jocks. Our normal school attire consisted of jeans, sweatshirts, runners, and barrettes or ponytails. Playing dress-up was fun, even if we did burn our ears with the curling iron, use a coat hanger to zip our Jordache jeans, and backcomb our hair until we defied Newton and his laws. All the while we’d giggle and be ourselves for the last time that Friday night.
Once we’d arrived at the gym, we’d join other girls and dance in a large circle. The boys lined the walls, leaning, joking, watching. I did the side-to-side shuffle with my feet, never sure what to do with my arms. I’d watch other girls and would try to mimic them, certain that they were dancing the right way. I seemed to hover above the circle, observing everyone, judging myself. How could someone so comfortable in that same gym with her basketball body not own it when she was dancing in the dark?
Eventually, the DJ would play a slow song, maybe Against All Odds, maybe Every Rose Has Its Thorn. C would find her boyfriend. She always had one. I never did. I’d pause momentarily near the court’s centerline, checking for any movement approaching. Inevitably, there was none. I’d follow the sheep into the fluorescent-lit hallway. I’d slurp water from the fountain and reenter the noisy darkness, searching for any girl I knew. I’d stand beside her and would watch the couples dancing: the straight-armed nervous ones, shuffling heavily in a repetitive side step; and the couply-couples draping their bodies over each other, hands roaming, feet anchored.
When the next ballad followed, there was both hope and terror as boys walked nearby.
Please ask me to dance.
Please don’t ask me to dance.
Sometimes I did get asked to dance, often by a boy a head shorter than me, a boy whose sleepy eyes were level with my breasts.
Don’t look at them.
Don’t look at my eyes either.
Don’t.
Do.
Sometimes a boy much older would ask me to dance. A boy whose wiry body knew what he wanted.
Please let Stairway To Heaven end.
Please let Stairway To Heaven go on.
The uncertainty of adolescence teetered amidst those two pleas.
*
What are your memories of school dances?
Yes, we had school dances in the 1960s and they were similar to your experience. I went to an all girls school and the only chance we really had to interact with boys was at the dances. Boyes were less shy about asking girls to dance since no one knew each other. I met several boyfriends at these dances. They were an important part of high school.
The cloak of anonymity. Good point.
Leanne, you captured it perfectly! I am writing about prom – and this is is. The push-pull of it. They pieces are different yet similar. Mine isn’t quite ready to go, but it’s close. We are always about that close. You’re just faster. And, per usual, you say it more succinctly. Beautiful. And really different from your other stuff. I see you are, perhaps, branching out a la Kristen Lamb? 😉 Good things, my friend.
Yes! It’s push-pull. That’s exactly what it is, what adolescence is. I only have two styles of writing: funny and this. I have a memoir brewing…
Great post. You know I like these stories 🙂
Yup, that I do.
This is a great post. I never missed a jr. high dance. (7th – 9th grade – we had three year high school.) Anyway, Stairway to Heaven was ALWAYS the final song. If you didn’t get asked to dance by someone, or you had the sense that icky dude was about to come your way we would dash out into the hall and hide out in the girl’s bathroom. Better that then have to be all sweaty with some lamo guy.
One time I was slow dancing and I had my arms under his arms instead of on his shoulders and I kind of froze. I didn’t re-position them, so he was right against my chest. Ewe. I didn’t know what to do, so I endured with all of his buddies leering and all of my friends doing funny OMG faces… He asked me to ‘go with him’ the 80’s term for ‘going steady. We lasted through the weekend. Ewe!
~ Dana
Great image, Dana. Well, awful-great, but you describe it well. I can smell the guy.
How effortlessly you’ve captured it all! I can smell the hairspray from here!
Boys never asked me to dance so I remember watching that couple, you know the one: her hair feathered perfectly, her mum let her wear eyeliner and frosted pink lipstick and she let her boyfriend tuck his hand into the back pocket of her jeans.
Ah, you’ve launched me back. What a delightful post!
Thanks, Belly. And the hand in the back pocket! Yes. Great detail.
Stairway to Heaven. You didn’t need to say anything else. In my case, there must have been something powerful about the song because, after going our separate ways for many years, that guy I first looked at across the 7th grade cafeteria, I just looked at again as he packed the goodwill boxes in his car and kissed me and the boys goodbye. 🙂
How beautiful is that, Wendy! I love that story. You tell it so well.
I went to Christian schools and we never had dances. But i feel like i just did.
Gorgeous writing.
Thanks, eh? Means a lot coming from you.
I always suspected girls were thinking “Please don’t ask me to dance” and your confirmation makes me so relieved I always stood off to the side with my guy friends and never asked any girls to dance.
Glad I could take an ounce of guilt away…
Dances even in the 50’s were the same. The one dance every year was my favorite: Sadie Hawkins Day Dance. Role-reversal reigned during those – but the emotions ran the same. How odd. “Marryin’ Sam” got a load of business that night.
The other dances were full of self-doubt and abject terror of being rejected when asking for a dance. So, it seems, that both sides of the fence had things to be nervous about. It’s a wonder any progress was made at all. But, of course, we know it was made.
Yes, the terror boys must feel when asking girls to dance. I can hardly imagine.
I dreaded school dances. Went to very few. (Geeky girls didn’t get asked to dance.)
It has been interesting watching my boys go through the “school dance” phase – each one different in his approach – and the (previously more shy) kid, seeming to enjoy it more.
God, adolescence can suck. Remember?
I remember. I relive a bit of it every day when I teach 14 and 15 year olds. Interesting that your child who’s more shy enjoyed it more.
What a lovely post. Well done, my friend.
Thanks, T.
All of the middle school dances I went to, I just hung out with the girls. High school was mostly the same until my senior year. That’s when guys actually started to “like” me as more than a friend. Such a late bloomer.
I agree. It was in Grade 12 that boys started to seem like friends you could joke with…
My cousin told me about the time when our grandmother was staying at their house, and she was ready to head out the door to a Grade 7 & 8 dance, when Grandma objected to her going to a dance in jeans, and insisted that my cousin put on a dress. My cousin was mortified at the very idea. Everyone wore jeans to school dances, so she would be a laughingstock if she showed up in a skirt.
She appealed to her mother (my aunt) and begged her to explain to our grandmother and allow her to wear the jeans. My lovely, kind aunt, who was nevertheless always a people pleaser, instead asked her to go and put a dress on.
My cousin burst into tears, and never went to that dance. I felt so badly for her, especially when her mother didn’t stand up for her.
Peer pressure can be a horrifying thing, and but so can families!
Jodi
What a story, Jodi. And you’re right: pressure from family and not getting the whole middle school thing and how “times have changed.” I cringed for her!
This is adolescence perfection. What is it about brightly lit hallways and water fountains that told the boys, “We’re too busy to dance, so don’t even bother asking, even though I know you weren’t gonna.”
Except our first slow song was The Eagles’ “Desperado”. Every time.
Love the attitude in your dialogue.
And Desperado. I still like that song. Sigh.
Let’s do the Time Warp Again.
It’s just a jump to the left…
Now that song is stuck in my head!
You hit the nail right on the head. It is funny that a former class mate just posted his class picture of grade 9 on facebook. That picture & your blog has brought back ohhh so many memories, some good others not.
And the odd thing is that I actually enjoyed my teen years. Well, the sports part of them.
I have loved coming over here for a giggle. You write so very well when you’re being funny – and now I see this other, lovely glimpse of your spirit. Well done – really, really well done. You’ve got it – all that inner angst, those warring emotions, that uncertainty mixed with curiosity — just wait until Thing 1 and Thing 2 are at that point. I really, really, really loved it when my kids got to that tweener/early adolescence stage! But it also stirs all kind of memories, very much like the ones you’ve so beautifully captured here. Thank you.
Thanks, Diana, for the really kind words. Someday I hope to write a coming-of-age memoir, but I have yet to reconcile my funny voice with my not-funny voice. Thank you so much.
Nothing and I mean nothing would ever make me want to be a teenager ever again~ it was torture
And you hid your dancing nerves well Leanne you held that gym just as well at dances as you did at the basketball games.
That’s a nice way to think of it. I can own a dance floor now because I don’t give a crap…Amazing how much that makes a difference.
This took me so perfectly back to adolescence I actually shuddered – not a great time for me. Your writing is so evocative.
Thanks, KB. The post didn’t start out this way…
Try being home schooled. Do you think anyone asked me to dance, even once?
Although, the UPS guy winked at me one day….does that count?
UPS guy definitely counts. Especially now. 😉
Being regected by all the girls at a dance. The only good one was when I asked the most popular girl to a dance and she said yes. Then I was herassed for months. I hated high school glad I’m done and won’t look back
Ode to popular girls saying yes. And to guys who have the courage to ask even when rejection is a strong possibility.
My favorite part of dances was the end of stairway to heaven where it picks up significantly and you can no longer dance slowly in a circle and you end up just standing there trying to think of something to say
I know *exactly* the part you’re referring to!
Ok, first? Your Jr. High legs were gorgeous. Just sayin’. As for the school dances… I both loved and hated them. The “fast songs” were fun, since I was such an awesome dancer *cough* The slow songs were torture. Boys NEVER asked me to dance. It was such an uncomfortable feeling, not knowing whether to stand there and watch the couples or retreat to the corner and pretend I didn’t care.
You are “The Sweetest” if you say that.I had short little terrycloth volleyball shorts on underneath. I had put masking tape over the side Adidas’ stripes so you wouldn’t see them through my father’s dress shirt.
And you capture it well: trying to pretend you don’t care. Yes.
Middle school: moving from my town of 18,000 to a real city with a couple million people when my parents got divorced, one dance at the end of the year and I wore a pretty dress and everyone made fun of me because they thought I worshipped satan, and clearly, satanists weren’t supposed to wear dresses. (Glad that’s over)
I fared better in high school with dances at church (god church, not satan church) with the youth group and they were exactly like you described. I once feigned a breakup with a boy because the false ending of that Night Ranger song had me leaving the dance floor before the song was really over.
What an adjustment year that must have been.
And I laughed at your “god church” line. (And I loved Night Ranger – It was Sister Christian, right? The part where they sing “Motoring”?). Take me back!
Ditto – for MY school’s dances, anyway. I also joined friends at Every Single One of their school’s dances – and they were the theatre group, so there was ALWAYS someone fun to dance with…
You really have to love artsy kids. I teach some. I do.
I wish I could have gone to dances in the 80s!!! I didn’t hit school dance age until the early 90s!!! *jealous* 😉
… and I wish there was a seperate “I like this a lot!” button!!!! lol
Thanks, Kim. I wish you were there too!
Oh man, you brought it all back. The awkwardness, the indecisiveness, all of it. Gross.
Yes, awkwardness. Sigh.
Growing up in the middle east, we didnt have dances to go to. But there was this one time when we had the end of the summer activities in our church with a party where there was dancing.
A girl I actually liked asked me to dance, well I guess she got bored waiting for me to ask or decided that if she waited for me to ask hell would freeze over, and like an idiot, I told her I had hurt my foot. I spent the rest of the party limping around.
Needless to say, we never became great friends.
A hurt foot! Ingenious, really.
When I taught Grade 11 and 12 IB in Bahrain, the students had dances in a big tent with Arabic music. No slow dances, obviously. It seemed WAY more fun.
This was totally hilarious! Every Rose Has Its Thorn indeed, and my Jr High dances were filled with them. Girls bawling because the boy they liked was asking other girls to dance and ignoring them even though they’d decided in advance that they were each others dates even though the school didn’t actually allow ‘dates’ to the dance. Mascara-drenched tears, peach-colored dresses, and 80s music. Gotta love it!
Nothing like a little Poison to bring back Junior High memories! And I remember tears. Not my own, thankfully, but those of others.
Oh lord. I played the piano (I say that because since I had kids…well…I don’t play much) and I also sang (which I did after kids, but years of “Twinkle Twinkle Traffic Light” takes the edge off the pipes)…
I can recall thousands of private or semi-private (due to well-intentioned friends willing to suffer) performances of “Against All Odds.”
I’m pretty sure if I close my eyes, I can still feel the sincerity oozing from me.
(or is it Noxema?)
“When I stand here taking every breath with you……ooh ooh. You’re the only one who really knew me at all…”
And DAMN did I mean it.
Also, “Faithfully,” by Journey. Because really, what teenager isn’t ready to make the lifetime commitment promised in that song?
Oh. Oh, the earnestness. The fear. The excitement.
You captured it all. Love this, Leanne. Thanks for the memory.
You sing? Wow. And we liked the same music. And I could play Open Arms on the organ. How sad is that!
I remember those days – 1950s for me – very well. I was always afraid to ask a girl to dance, because she might turn me down, so I spent most of my time sitting in a corner or joking with other guys.
Dead on Leanne! I vividly remember the gangly teenage boys who wallpapered the edge of the gym, too self-conscious to dance but too interested in the goings on to leave. So we girls did the only thing we could do and danced with other girls.
I’m now 48 and still dance at social events with other women whose husbands — like mine — hate to dance. But I’m doing something about it for the next generation. I’ve had my eight year old son in dance lessons for four years. I’ve told him in a few years he’ll “clean up” on the dance floor with the beautiful girls while the legions of boys who had only hockey lessons will continue wallpapering the gym walls. Some things never change.
I loved this post, Leanne…those boys weren’t very bright! You were (and still are) gorgeous!
I went to all the dances in middle school (Grade 7 and 8 in Ontario)…I was also the girl who rarely got asked to dance. However, I didn’t let that stop me…I just asked the boys to dance, for fast songs, at least!
It was the mid-70’s. Some of the songs that remind me of those dances were: “Takin’ Care of Business”, “American Pie”, “Smoke on the Water”, “Crocodile Rock”, and “Locomotion”. One of the waltzes I remember watching jealously was “You Are So Beautiful.”
I still love to dance to fast songs, but haven’t done it for a long time (except to embarrass the children)…
Wendy
I know this is year later, but just tonight I heard the song and I asked myself WHY Stairway to Heaven was ALWAYS the last song at dances through my middle and high school years (in Richmond Hill – 1973-81). ‘Still don’t know why, but your post was deliciously evocative of those years: if only I’d known then what I know now…who’m I kidding; I’d still be a geek! Loved the post though.