I am in a third grade classroom. Students are making shapes and applying energy. Kevin shouts,

“Look, I can do it standing on my head!”

I stare at him in awe, envious of his balance and strong upper body, and extremely happy because prior to class, Kevin’s teacher came to me with some concerns. He feels Kevin has too much energy, and is unable to control himself in dance class. He informs me that in previous years he was unable to participate. I told him we would give it a try, because kids with “too much energy” tend to be great dance students, and I knew if Kevin could stand on his head while applying smooth and sharp energy, then he could focus.

Flashback to before becoming Kevin’s dance teacher, I often saw him sulking in the school office. It was obvious he had been labeled as a problem kid. After speaking with his teacher and witnessing his talents, I made it a point to make sure Kevin had his dance time, and dance he did!

Through third, fourth, and fifth grade I was delighted to be Kevin’s dance instructor. Each year he became more confident, helpful to other students, and a more sophisticated dance-maker. I’ll never forget when he volunteered to explain his dance in front of a grant funder. For his 5th grade dance he led his group in choreography, directing when to start the canon, and placed himself front and center.

Kevin excelled in dance, and his other subjects, dancing at his graduation. Dance was part of Kevin’s success!

Some things are easier to describe than others. At Luna, we engage in observation and reflection as daily practice. We charge ourselves to see what actually happens in a dance class, trying to separate out assumptions, judgement and interpretation in order to witness creativity, relationship, and growth, but, sometimes this is difficult; our MPACT (Moving Parents And Children Together) dance classes often happen at residential addiction recovery centers, where mothers are simultaneously learning tools to maintain independent, substance-free lives and to reconnect as they regain custody of their children. There is a lot to observe in these classes. During our opening circle we often see mothers and children participating together, moms tickling their kids to the tune of hickory dickory dock and rocking and rolling with their little ones as they exuberantly sing humpty dumpty. For some families this oneness of mother-child continues throughout the 60-minute class, but, for others, the strain of separation and loss shows through.

When we first met Mary and her child, we observed more separateness than togetherness in their interactions. Mary’s child did not want to sit on mom’s lap and usually danced away from her, toward other children and other mothers, or danced alone, not relating to anyone in class. Mary sometimes engaged her child, usually by giving instructions to listen to the teacher and behave. They rarely danced together and by the end of the six-week session were still two soloists, even when dancing as a duet.

When we returned some months later to start the new session we noticed the shift almost immediately. Mary’s child sat in her lap, smiling and singing nursery rhymes with her. Later in class as parents and children were dancing away from each other then back toward each other, Mary’s child galloped, jumped and turned across the room from her, then returned each time to receive a hug, high five, or “Good job!” from her. As the session progressed we witnessed the two of them making shapes, dancing over, under, around and through each other, giggling, grinning and inventing new ways of playing together through dance. At the end of each class, we as teachers reflected that both mom and child had moments of dancing as creative, expressive individuals and as a happily bonded pair. Through this transformation Mary also emerged as a leader: she confidently led sections of the warm-up and was a role model for how to connect with one’s child through dance.

While dance class is only one component of a busy week at residential centers, it’s a special time for moms and their children to be creative and play together. It was through this lens that we had the privilege of witnessing the remarkable relationship catharsis of Mary and her child.

At that moment, it was clear to me that Luna Dance had been a constant thread in this family’s life.

Constancy, guts, unwavering determination – these were on my mind when I greeted Paula, a parent at one of our Oakland schools. Her family danced with Luna several years ago at a residential recovery center where we bring MPACT (Moving Parents and Children Together).

Six years ago, Teresa was dancing with her foster mother at a community site while waiting to be reunified with her birth mother. A season or two later, we met up with her again—this time dancing with her birth mother at a residential center. Dance was the way they were able to reconnect.

During those MPACT sessions, Paula was pregnant and gave birth to her son Justin. She was joyfully dancing with both of her kids the week after he was born. Justin was snuggled close in a baby carrier while Paula held on to Teresa ‘s hands twirling, rocking and gliding. Paula and her children danced with us throughout her recovery and once she left the center they came to free family dance classes at the Luna studio. We ran into each other occasionally when she came to visit staff at the residential center–both children in tow. She always greeted me with a huge hug and let me know that she was adjusting well to life outside of the residential center.

After not seeing this family for a couple of years I was thrilled to meet them again at one of our school sites. Last year, Patricia and I taught her daughter, Teresa in a fourth grade class; and Amelia taught her son during his weekly transitional Kindergarten dance class. After a few weeks of teaching, Teresa ran up to me while I was putting dance supplies away and pulled me towards her mother. Paula gave me a huge hug and ran to get her son to meet me. Of course, he did not remember me, but stared at me with wide open eyes as I crouched down low to say “hi”. Paula said, “This is my friend Nancy, she knew you when you were a baby.” Then she introduced me to her fiancé who was standing right next to her—he greeted me with a firm handshake and smile.

Interview & transcription by Heather Stockton

I would say being a part of Luna has really helped me get back in touch with my own creativity, just from watching the kids being creative.

Luna honors that everyone has their own creative ability- there is no right or wrong. That is your own story- your own creative piece. That is why we choose Luna too, because it has that inclusive environment.

I love that you have all of these women working here and make it work for the women working here. I love that you support each other through all of the different changes that you go through… that makes me feel better about our time and money here. I was just thinking ‘I don’t know how they do it all!’ I often tell people when they ask “why are you going all the way to Berkeley?” (we come from Alameda) well, other than the philosophy itself, I am giving my money to (an organization) who goes out into communities, and does outreach programs like MPACT, you know? And also as a work unit, how you all support each other, it just feels like a good place to support. I wish (our) family had more resources to support you.

I did parent child classes with Carmen…I did maybe like two sessions of parent-child classes with her. I love how you guys are so centered on what is developmentally appropriate…and then watching her grow into the older classes where she could start to do her own thing. And with Zola…she was so shy and more of an observer and really quiet. Usually would not answer back to an adult. I think in her head she thought she was doing big movements but actually looked like teeny little shapes. I actually wasn’t even sure she enjoyed coming to Luna and I remember thinking ‘I don’t know if we are going to come back’. But she said she wanted to come back and when she came back she started breaking out of her shell and I’ve seen her breaking out more and more. She has just become so much more grown…much more confident. I have seen her confidence grow at school- she used to be afraid to speak in front of others and just the other day she told me that she got this sticker because she read (her) writing in front of the class. I thought ‘wow how brave of her’. I absolutely believe that Luna has helped her develop confidence. And also within her body- on a physical level, she was always a more timid child. It wasn’t like she was not strong—she was hesitant, hesitant with her body. But I have seen her grow more confident with her inner self and with her physical self… yeah it’s really awesome. I do feel like Luna has been this subtle yet strong influence in her life.

On Monday, there was another girl in the class who was more shy than the others and Deborah (Zola’s Teacher at Luna) said “oh wow Zola was really brave, she (stepped up) and pretty much choreographed a dance with a whole audience…”

I am definitely really proud of her. I just love that she is growing in that way and I feel like it is in a healthy way. I think especially being a girl, I feel like this is good, having this foundation. I read somewhere that for a girl, confidence peaks at age 9. For my girls to be here, being able to be in your body, to be independent. I would say that is something that I am really grateful.

And with Carmen, she is just having so much fun. There is so much joy in her expressing and it makes me so happy to see. She said that she couldn’t wait to have a class for herself.

They love to be in the space and it is nice to see them so comfortable. And as siblings when they get to dance together in the space (during open houses/family dance classes) I feel like they get to connect through dance, they get to create together.

Jared Hassan is a 10 year old musician who plays global percussion instruments and the saxophone with Bay Area Youth Arts. He has an amazing “musical ear”, and his music teacher says he is the , “ . . . . reincarnation of Thelonious Monk and Charlie Bird.” He studies in the advanced music class with Bay Area Youth Arts and has performed at Yoshi’s and for Congresswoman Barbara Lee with their youth ensemble. Jared’s mother, N’sombi is featured with her son in the book, “Thicker Than Blood”, a picture book which tells the stories of adoptive families, written and curated by a University of California Berkeley photography major. I first met Jared, seven years ago at an MPACT class at the West Oakland library.

Jared was almost three years old at the time, and he looked like he was five. His mom tells me he is still big for his age. During the first several classes he hid under the tables and dashed out the door multiple times during the class. I could see that N’sombi was anxious that this dance class might not be a good fit for them. Following that first class experience we encouraged N’sombi to return with Jared, and assured her that with time he would acclimate to the class. The next several classes were similar, and then Jared became interested in the other kids. He was new to playing with other children, so his way of getting to know them was to crash into them, or jump on them while they were making a low shape. After attending several six-week class series over a couple of years, Jared gradually danced more with his mom, and navigated the dance room with other children, learning to dance near them without crashing. He used his words to say “hi” and “goodbye” to his teachers and dance friends.

“My child is adopted and so I needed to find something to bond. I used to dance and so when I saw this it was a thing I wanted to try … And so, I do it for the bonding, although this is the first that we’ve ever really bonded. Cause he’s not, he’s not, he hasn’t (starts to choke up) learned that yet. You know what I mean? So, he’s in the process of learning to bond. So, even though he runs around and does what he does, he’s learning to come back, which is something that he hadn’t done before. We’d never danced together before. It was always him over there and I was over here. But now, he’s learning to come dance as a family in this class … it’s a good place for us to learn how to bond, for him to learn how to bond. He was a wild child. I was gonna to take him out of class. I was afraid for the other children, because he was a runner, ran in circles, circles, circles. But he finally got a grip, he’s ready to behave, he’s having fun. He’s being part of the class instead of not in it.”

When Jared was five years old he started dancing at the Berkeley Luna studio through our tuition assistance program. He and his mom were comfortable at the Luna studio; they trusted the teachers, and Jared danced at our studio until he was seven years old. About once a year I call N’sombi to see how her son is doing. Jared will attend middle school this fall. She is considering a school that has a strong music program; and they might possibly consider Oakland School for the Arts. In our most recent conversation she said that if he does pursue a music-based school she can include “Luna” on his resume as his first experience with the performing arts.

In 2011 Marcia moved to the Bay Area from Wisconsin with her husband and two daughters. Intimidated by Oakland’s massive population, Marcia worried that her family would not fit in or find the tight knit community they had experienced before. At her local park, Marcia ran into a former Luna Dance MPACT teacher who encouraged her to take Luna’s free family dance class at the West Oakland Library.

On a cold and windy day, Marcia, her husband and two daughters bundled up and headed out for their first MPACT (Moving Parents and Children Together) dance class. Though shy at first, Marcia’s family broke out of their shell, leaping, turning and dancing full out. They continued attending weekly classes and the bond between them deepened into taking greater risks in movement. They jumped into the following session at Lotus Bloom and began to form long-term friendships.

Four families hug, kiss, and hold hands, greeting each other before class.
Shaky arms, shaky legs, and shaky gallops fill the room.
Children and parents create shapes to move over, under, around and through.
The energy breams with feelings of joy, love, security and comfort.

With each class the communal bond between Marcia’s family and three other families blossomed into play dates, babysitting-swaps, and eventually the formation of a cooperative preschool. From West Oakland Library to Lotus Bloom, then to Cesar Chavez Library and 81st Ave., each of these families followed MPACT classes when they were offered by Luna.

I spoke to Marcia, recently, and she told me that without the community created by MPACT for over three years, she and her family would have been lost in Oakland. Marcia is just one of many parents who share with me how significant MPACT classes are in building trust and community. Parents and children find MPACT a safe and nurturing place to play and dance together–increasing confidence in each dancing participant, enhancing the immediate parent and child relationship, and invigorating a sense of unity that carries on outside of the dance room.

At a typical monthly assembly at New Highland Academy (NHA), where I teach dance as a Luna teaching artist, I experienced a moment of personal transformation. Acting as emcee, teacher Ms. E struck up “Down by the Bay” on her guitar and in moments the room was filled with exuberant singing voices. Such joyful scenes are common at NHA, where the arts—music, visual art, and dance—are central to the school culture. School assemblies and “artist of the month” awards showcase arts’ importance, and this month’s gathering featured a dance performance by a class of adrenaline-pumped 2nd graders. Dancing with expression, poise and focus, the act of performing transformed them from a squirrely pack of reluctant listeners into serious dance artists. As the applause died down, the Vice Principal buzzed in over the loud speaker:

We are officially on lock down.
Local police have informed us of violent activity outside the school.
No one may leave the cafeteria until further notice.

Gasps and murmurs spread through the room. Some kindergartners broke into tears. Instinctively, Ms. E. snatched up her guitar. “If we’re stuck here, we might as well sing!” And sing we did. The students’ favorite was a tune in Spanish that had them dance various body parts in different ways. I was struck by how absorbed they were in the movement. With tear marks still on their cheeks, Kindergartners smiled, sang and danced with gusto.

At once I felt a new sense of gratitude. Though gun violence—and the fear and suspicion it breeds—is a threat these children face every day, within the locked doors of that room, joy, community and expression overflowed. Situations like this one remind me that the arts are a life-giving necessity. Children’s creative expression remains greater than the forces of hate and division.