04/06/2026
Sound familiar....?
The Language of Dance Teachers
Every world has its own language.
Doctors speak in acronyms. Teachers use phrases like “working towards.” Hairdressers somehow ask if you want “just a trim” while already holding half your hair in their hand.
And ballroom dancing is no different.
Spend enough time in a dance studio and eventually you begin to realise teachers rarely say exactly what they mean. Instead, they communicate in a strange coded language made up of diplomatic half-truths, emotional cushioning and vague technical instructions that somehow raise more questions than answers.
Over time, dancers learn to decode these phrases like survivors trying to interpret signals in the wild.
For the uninitiated, I thought I’d provide a small translation guide.
“That was alright.”
That was catastrophic but I’m trying to preserve morale.
“Not bad.”
I am genuinely thrilled but emotionally incapable of saying so directly.
“Once more.”
We will now repeat this until one of us dies.
“Interesting…”
I have just witnessed something deeply unnatural.
“Again, but this time relax.”
You currently resemble a frightened ironing board.
“Use your standing leg.”
I refuse to explain further because suffering builds character.
“Don’t think so much.”
Your face suggests active tax calculations during a foxtrot.
“Feel the movement.”
I have completely run out of technical explanations.
“That’s better.”
At last.
Sweet mercy.
“Just breathe.”
You appear to be entering cardiac arrest during a Natural Turn.
“Stretch upwards.”
You are dancing like a goblin.
“Trust your partner.”
This will almost certainly end badly, but let’s commit to it.
“Don’t anticipate.”
Stop trying to lead from the wrong side of the partnership, Susan.
“Use the floor.”
You are currently dancing as though the parquet is emotionally upsetting you.
“Be softer.”
You’ve just hit that line like you’re directing aircraft on an active runway.
“More shaping.”
You should resemble linguine, not a fridge freezer.
“And smile!”
I can currently see every ounce of psychological distress this routine is causing you.
The strange thing is, after a while, this language starts to make perfect sense.
You nod earnestly when somebody says:
“You need more body flight into the fleckerl with softer knees and increased CBMP.”
And perhaps that’s one of the strangest things about ballroom dancing.
At some point, the bizarre becomes ordinary.
You stop questioning why adults are aggressively discussing heel leads at 9pm on a Tuesday night. You no longer blink when somebody says “touch inner thigh to inner thigh” with complete sincerity.
You simply nod, scrape your shoes with a tiny wire brush and carry on.
Because once the ballroom world gets hold of you, it slowly rewires your brain until all of this feels perfectly reasonable.
And honestly?
I think that’s rather wonderful.
