Until very recently, I thought "it is always the caller's fault". The problem
with absolutes like "always" is that a counterexample jumps up and hits you in
the face.
I like (and use) the tactics for putting out fires that others recommended:
Beef up the calling (earlier, more directional, more complete), NOT calling to
the late group, etc. Not mentioned here yet is the old "manual intervention".
I use a wireless mic, and that allows me to move around, hopefully addressing
issues before they erupt in flames, but also providing an in-your-face
hard-to-ignore knowledgeable guide post.
If you ever read Asimov's Foundation Trilogy, you'll remember that the science
of psychohistory which allowed practitioners to essentially predict the future
of civilizations was compromised by a random mutation ("The Mule"). I was
thinking of that a few Saturdays ago when I was calling for a challenging
dance. I don't mean challenging to the dancers: I mean challenging to me to
call! It was a regular dance series, and the "regulars" weren't there, and
there were lots of new dancers. That's OK with me; I do that all the time. I
found myself presenting pretty easy stuff, and astonishingly, I needed to make
it easier as the evening went on. I was running out of easier-than-dead-easy
material. That's also OK -- I know how to write dances on the fly. What I was
not prepared for was a concentration of dancers that needed special handling.
One dancer, an older fellow who had been dancing for some time, was literally
moving in slow motion, and in a time delay so that the people around him were
sucked into his rift in the time-space continuum. Another dancer, a newcomer
who seemed to "get it" initially, began careening in random directions at high
speed, with a great big smile on her face. Another new gentleman, also after
seemingly "getting it", started to regress to periods of non-movement. I moved
right next to him and said "right hand star", putting my own hand out to model
the action. He just stood there and repeated "right hand star".
This made me think about, and question, the assumption that the caller is
always at fault. Perhaps that is a fine mental state to be in (that is, not
blaming the dancers), but you know, the conduct of the evening is not, and
cannot be entirely one person's responsibility. A dance is like a machine with
many moving parts, and they need to be functioning in expected ways for a
smooth experience. Mistakes? They are part of what the machine does. I have
more trouble when communication that has worked before begins to fail, when
lessons learned are forgotten, and when other unexpected behaviors arise.
So this was one of the least fun, least rewarding gigs in my 30 years of
calling. I chalk it up to an unfortunate confluence of factors likely not to be
repeated for another 30 years.
