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Hall Pass: Oak Grove Middle School

All eyes on the dance floor

At a middle school dance, slow songs are out but hot new moves are always in.

By LETITIA STEIN
Published November 17, 2006

TAMPA - When the conga line falls apart, sixth-grader Eddie Rodriguez lands at the back of a group, next to a girl who is at least 2 feet taller.

It's been a tumultuous hour.

Eddie was almost turned away at the door for forgetting his pass. Then a blond girl from drama class saw him and came over with open arms. Eddie ducked.

"She's craaazzzyyyyy," he explained.

Now the 11-year-old, who gives his height as tall enough to ride Montu at Busch Gardens, can't see over all his classmates. He's at the back of a circle formed around an eighth-grade break-dance disciple.

So the tall girl lifts Eddie up.

"Normally, I'd be the one in the middle," he says later, pumping himself up over a bottle of fruit juice. "But I don't feel like it today."

---

Imagine shaking a bottle of soda pop really hard, then twisting the top one half-turn. Welcome to a middle school dance.

Girls shake what they have to shake. Boys saunter, stumble, sulk. The deejay knows not to play slow songs. Gender paths cross, but mostly in groups.

Eighth-graders Destin Lyons and Hector Ojeda are lucky. Where they go to dance, crowds follow.

Girls too.

Heads start to turn as soon as Destin warms up with a one-two step. He falls, horizontally, onto the floor: Break dancing meets the push-up.

Hector takes his turn. He dances deliberately, arms crossing slowly. He lulls his fans, then draws gasps with a back flip that spirals out of nowhere.

Hector shimmies over to a girl, shapely like him. She lowers her eyes, hand to her face. He calls her his girlfriend.

Destin singles out another girl. A pretty girl, but not yet his. He touches her face. Blows a kiss.

"Aigghhhhhh!" she shrieks, her friends doubling over with laughter.

---

Madison Sartor watches, back to the wall.

When the dance started an hour ago, she was one of the first sixth-graders on the floor. Lauren Desmond pushed her into the center.

"There's certain places in the room where certain kids stand," Madison explains. "I'm part of two groups, so she put me in the middle."

This is how they describe the layout:

The "emo kids" - an emotional, brooding clique - clump to one side. The "ghetto kids" - think hip-hop music and baggy pants - stand on the other.

Music is the line Madison won't cross: "Everyone sitting down wants to hear a rock song," she says.

"It's just hip hop and rap. It's not fair," adds Lauren, fuming after classmates booed down a rock song.

"It's our school too," Morgan says.

Lauren looks at her cell phone.

"Thirty more minutes of this torture," she said.

Once you're at the dance, you can't leave.

[Last modified November 17, 2006, 06:01:45]