Laura

Laura with Henk at her Tuinhuis milonga, October 2016

I met Laura in January 2014 at the Saturday afternoon practica in Glasgow. We connected right away.  Then we danced.  She was one of the first women I remember dancing in swapped roles.  I was just starting to swap and among women, it was Laura more than anyone who showed me how that could be confident, fluid and gentle. She gave confidence.  At that time she had already been dancing in both roles for many years. I wrote to her once saying she was "all musical and flexible and responsive".

After the practica she came with us to 'Smile' cafe  - what an apt name. At that time some dancers in Glasgow went there regularly for the thick Italian hot chocolate and the chat.  Laura chatted, smiled and laughed. Then, suddenly, surprisingly, wonderfully she sang tango songs for us.  She touched everyone who was there that afternoon.  Several of us continued to spend time together in a Persian restaurant that evening.  Afterwards she wrote "Special to be amongst people i don't know and still feel so at ease with".

I wrote: "It was such a pleasure to meet you. Everyone said so!  And we loved your impromptu show in the cafe!  You sing with such heart and feeling! "  That was Laura: a light in the room, all heart and feeling.

I asked Laura about a good dancer and nice guy I had met at the Duif milonga in Amsterdam the year before.  I tried to describe him.  A few days after we met she wrote to say she had met Franc Duking at a milonga in Utrecht: "how fun it was i could bring you both in contact!".  She liked to do that sort of thing for others.  I'm so glad she did because three years later I made it to Franc's Oranjerie milonga in Arnhem after New Year. Along with Laura's own milonga these were my two favourite milongas in the Netherlands.  If I hadn't asked and she hadn't remembered and told me Franc's name I might never have found that milonga. Thus do the small things in life, the small kindnesses open us to other experiences.  I closed down my blogs about 18 months ago after some casual remarks by a friend at the time.   It is today that I re-open Milonga Review.   I find again, Laura is the catalyst.  She was to me all about openness, acceptance, being who you are, not just not apologising for it but celebrating your own life and those of others.  That was the example she set.

I saw Laura a couple of months later in Glasgow.  She brought Dutch waffle biscuits for my children when we met one chilly day in the botanical gardens. My elder son still adores waffles.  She was so polite about my then five year old who that day was the very spirit of rebellion. More than that - someone who was just polite could have left one with a sense of inadequate parenting.  But Laura said "What a special time of sharing! Thank you! And what a challenge to parent two active boys! And did well in the milonga, of course the cookies were a help ;-)". She was kind.  She wrote other kind, complimentary things because she knew how strengthening that is. Like my mother, like a good mother, like a good friend she taught me without actually teaching:  "Raising two great kids and at the same time demanding and see what great job you do! I hope you are proud of what you acomplish!!"  I learnt a lot from Laura but only realise this particular lesson when I read her words again now.  At the time I thanked her not for that lesson but for sending me a picture of a 'green wall' in Madrid, because she knew I liked them.  How easily we can miss what is most important.

When something she had worked hard for didn't work out she felt the disappointment, accepted it and said "Well, letting go seems to be the solution!".  And what other, what better way is there?

Perceptively, Laura noticed something unusual and asked about my domestic circumstances. I told her. Unlike many she simply accepted the unusual and went on to talk about the glycaemic index in sugar. That was Laura. She was curious, understanding, accepting. I think it was not mere idle curiosity because Laura was too sensitive for that but curiosity so as to better understand.

I danced increasingly less after 2014 and we were less in touch after that.  We met briefly in Edinburgh at the tango festival but I was tired. If I think of it as Laura might, I was "not with the right energy for the situation".  While I was still hamstrung by notions of duty and obligation Laura was very aware of energy in general and of energy as a finite resource that needs rest for renewal. I am still learning from her that obligation counts for nothing without energy and that a sense of duty counts for little compared to true willingness.

The next time I saw Laura was two years ago. I feel privileged that I went to her Tuinhuis milonga in Utrecht in 2016. She ran it even though she was just back that day from a trans-continental flight. We had a lovely, healthy meal, shared, at home with friends such as I had not had in a long time.  There was Henk with whom she sang and Astrid who had DJd for her for many years.  The milonga, just through the garden from her house was one of my favourites in the Netherlands, for the atmosphere. It is hard to describe how that was: warm, cosy, a place of light in the dark garden, of music, dance and conviviality.  There was a donation bowl for the DJ but otherwise Laura said it was free. People brought things to share. It was a place of sharing.  That was Laura, she shared. 

 There was a broader mix of people than I remember from other milongas in the Netherlands. The hours seemed to pass so quickly as they will in good times.  The photos I have of this milonga, kindly shared by Ojo-oscuro, are my favourites of any milonga I have been to. There is a warmth in them.  People seem relaxed and happy. I always wanted to return to that milonga because what she made was so special.  I took for granted that I would.  To run a milonga the way Laura did with her friends, to leave the legacy of those memories is a special thing.

 

Laura had invited me to stay that night in her flat. She was kind. She was liberal. "Do as you feel", she always said. She was understanding. She lived healthily. She told me how she loved to cycle to a lake near her house to swim. But despite singing as passionately as ever at the milonga she was overall more subdued. It concerned me but Laura was older than me, more experienced,  further ahead. I was unsure and didn't know how to ask.  I think she saw the query.  With the openness I remember her for and the clear-sightedness I admired she mentioned what troubled her, but remained optimistic. She "looked for the good" as my mum would say.

I remember another example of that. Years before she had had a bad dance with a guy who clearly had not engaged in a shared dance [my words] and had instructed her.  She said "I was confused but at the end i thanked him and shared my confusion and he said the right thing that to enjoy was the most important".  She was honest, open, clear with a compass set true.

While she travelled all over the world Laura lived simply.  She was grateful for all she had in life, especially her family, also friends, colleagues, music, dance. She spoke of them all warmly.

She left us too soon and I wish now we had stayed more in touch.  Like others I was shocked to hear of her passing.  When her mother died she said "we surround her with love so what more to wish for!?".  I read from those closest to her that that is what happened for Laura.

I have always thought that if you want to say something about someone, say it to them while they are alive.  I find myself doing the opposite, so I still learn from Laura.  I imagine her shrugging lightly, accepting, understanding because that is who she was.  But the lesson for me that, while well-known most us nevertheless seem to need to learn through experience, is: "don't leave it too late".  Be aware of the joy in the moment as Laura was, of that good fortune of experiencing something and especially knowing someone that we so often take for granted. Savour, celebrate and share it.  Perhaps that is why she loved to dance.   Some people are particularly special to us.  I learn from Laura that it is important to recognise those people and let them know.

Laura leaves wonderful memories. What I remember is that huge smile, the open arms, the warm eyes, the ardour for life expressed in song, the way she made people happy. 

April 2014, Botanics, Glasgow

The 5 Bs or "How one word changes everything"

I asked my son how you were supposed to get over being stuck when you were in the learning pit. He told me.

The next day, I asked my elder son who is eleven, if he'd heard about the learning pit and the 5 Bs.
F: "So, what do you reckon the 5 Bs are?"
"Braying?" he said, instantly.
F: "Braying? You mean praying? Like, praying for help?"
O: "No, braying."
F: "Braying how?"
He imitated a donkey.
O: "You bray for help!"
F: Of course!
"B for boo-hoo!" said son 2, "H" joining in the game.
F: "Oh, you vent your frustration in crying and feel better!"
H: "No, you cry because you're stuck and it makes a river which floats you out of the pit."
F: "Like in Alice."
"Yes," they said.
"Or, B for booby", said my ever-tactile younger son.
F: "Sorry?"
"You know, the sea-bird", he said, guilelessly. "It comes along and lifts you up out of the pit."
These imaginative flights were heartening. I liked them far more than the real 5 Bs.

The previous day, the learning pit fresh in my mind, when I first thought about the 5 Bs the B that came to my mind was "Brainwashing" - in primary colours in one of the bold, funky fonts used in the Tom Gates books for 8-12 year olds. 

F: "So, what are the 5 Bs?"
H: "Brains."
F "Oh - use your brain to try and figure out the answer'?"
H: "Yes."
F: "What else?"
H: "Books."
F: "Look in a book for the answer?"
He nodded
F: "So what's the next one?"
H: "Buddy"
F: "That'd be 'ask a friend for help'.
H: "Yes".
It's nice when the children are the ones with the knowledge, confirming things, especially to adults.
He couldn't remember the next one.
F: "So what's the last one?"
H: "Boss."
F: "Boss? What boss?"
"Well," he said, embarrassed, anticipating my reaction. "The teacher is boss." This last was said with a sort of flourish that possibly combined an optimism he perhaps hoped I'd catch, with the lightest of defiant notes, as in "The teacher can be boss, can't they?"  I think I groaned.
F: "Your teacher is your boss?"
"Yes," he said, in the same tone.
F: "Do you really think a teacher should be a boss?"
H: "Well, they are in a way."
F: "Yes, if they have to get 30 children across a road. What else could the teacher be, in a classroom?"
H: "I don't know."
F: "Guides? Mentors? 'Learning facilitators'. People there to help you? Just, no, not a boss.
"The children came up with that", he parried.
F: "Oh! The 5 Bs?"
"Yes!" he said, though he could equally have meant they came up with 'boss' and probably did mean that. I wondered if I'd backed my son into a corner where he was now defending his teacher, and left it there. Talking about it later, that turned out to be true. Unsurprisingly, the children hadn't come up with any of it. Assuming this was a teaching resource idea that would be on the internet I looked it up and found it was just that.

It turns out that the 5 Bs, together with the Learning Pit are methods which aim to foster independent learning, though to my mind the word 'boss' compared to the alternatives does just the opposite. The word 'boss' moves things away from independent learning where the focus is on the child. Where does the focus shift? Towards supplier-focused 'education' or 'educator'.  That is because a boss is someone who tells you what to do, you can't really argue - in the sense of discuss - with them to get to the truth, you ultimately have to do as you are told and really a boss is not someone you question.  Learning on the other hand is all about questions and discussion.  'Education' therefore - never mind education with an actually named 'boss' figure - is a totally different thing to learning. Some might say, the two concepts are in fact opposites.

This is true for any kind of learning, at any age, in any setting. In fact, you see this idea of supplier-focused convenience versus user-focused effectiveness anywhere there is an imbalance of power, especially where on one side of the equation you have vulnerable people and on the other, the people supposed to be caring or providing for them . The other obvious place you see it is in geriatric care: traditional care homes. This idea is explored more fully, with examples and in lucid, engaging prose in Atul Gawande's superb book "Being Mortal" - an excellent 'B' to commit to memory.

I think instead of Boss, that B should actually be the opposite: "Beware!" "Beware of the Boss". Because where independent learning is the aim, having a 'boss' risks stifles creativity, engagement and independent thought. Someone for whom those things really were the focus would not call themselves a boss.

The 4th B, in case you were wondering is 'board'. To get out of the learning pit you look on the board for a tip.  That is actually quite a nice one, because guides and mentors rather than educators or bosses provide nudges, ideas for you to explore, questions for you to ask and answer that bring you to your own fuller understanding. That is another version of what independent learning might be like and one I prefer.

You might be forgiven if the B that sticks in your mind is the other spelling of 'Board'. I hope though that the Bs that sticks are the independently imagined ones; B for "Boo-hoo!" for instance,  the river of surreal tears cried by creative, reactionary learners, trapped by those Bosses in a pit they should never be in. Why would you want to remember that sad scenario? Because, apart from the graphic warning, those learners are demonstrating that very independence - floating themselves away out of that dangerous pit, on a river of adventurous learning.