Starting in the second grade and getting worse from there we learned to square dance and we had to do it with girls. We had to hold a girl’s hand, or lock arms and swing them around. Ahhuh! I used to make fun of the square dance caller on those records our teacher played, by singing:
Swing yer partner round and round
Don’t you stop ‘til you flung ‘er on the ground.
I didn’t necessarily mind the “put your right foot in, put your right foot out” stuff, nor was I overly concerned about getting girls’ fleas by touching a girls hand or arm. What bothered me was the whole idea of dancing. I was in the Blazer class, my last year of Primary at the church. In the summer, we would have a Primary program that our parents could come to. The younger children would sing, give short little talks, and display their art work. Someone thought it would be fun to have the eleven-year-old boys do a dance with the eleven-year-old girls. I didn’t think that would be very fun, in fact, I tried to think of every way I could get out of it.
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