Lucy Gellman Photos.
Rodney Hill extended his arms, kicking out his right foot as he scanned two dozen faces. He leaned to the left and began to count, shaking it out. Facing him, seventh grader Ja’mese Hunter studied his every move, her feet and arms already in motion. As Bill DeVoe’s “Poison” came pumping over a speaker, her pink croc slippers glowed in the sunshine.
Monday, Hill made a visit to Edgewood Creative Thinking through STEAM Magnet School before “Nuttin’ But A Word,” a performance of Rennie Harris Puremovement American Street Dance Theater (RHPM) at the Yale Schwarzman Center (YSC) on Tuesday night. RHPM is a group dedicated to “street dance theater”—dance that has originated in the streets, rather than a studio or conservatory. For students like Ja’mese, it marked a chance to get out of one of kind of classroom, and step into another.
It is part of a growing initiative of the Schwarzman Center to engage with New Haven schools (as it has with Cooperative Arts & Humanities and Wilbur Cross High Schools), as well as artists and organizations in the city. That’s also the inspiration behind its “Everybody Dances” series, which brings in New Haven artists to teach and opens classes to the community once a week.
“Experiential education is just about the best methodology for how we learn,” said Edgewood Principal Nick Perrone, who watched the beginning of the class. “By providing these experiences, we are hoping to connect children with a passion that they can develop.”
“We want them to be able to say, ‘This was really fun, I want to go into schools and work with kids,’” he added. “Or, ‘I want to take this new style and do something different with it.’”
Monday, that rang true for Ja’mese, from the first steps to a finished routine, complete with DeVoe’s earwormy vocals. Hill talked students through a warmup, his limbs suddenly loose, and she shook it out in time with him. He brought his arms to their full wingspan, and her arms rose instantly, in sync. Beside Hill, dancer Maggie Waller pumped her arms in a green sweatshirt.
“So we want to go—” he stepped left, dropping his shoulder as he moved, and students copied the motion. “Yeah—” He stepped right and did it again, sinking into his knees. In the first three rows, students didn’t take their eyes off of Hill. When he strutted backyards, the group exploded in a delighted, cacophonous “Ayyyyy!”
“Alright?” he said, and his feet went momentarily airborne, then found their place back on the asphalt. “Let me see that real quick! Five, six, seven, let’s go!”
Following along in the front row, Ja’mese made it her own, pumping her feet so fast it looked as though she was skipping in place, or jumping an invisible rope. She threw out her arms, bringing them back in as her knees bent and she moved backwards. On Hill’s count of “five!,” a delighted cry of “It’s the Nae Nae!” went up from somewhere in the group.
Hill smiled, and the ease of it seemed to radiate through the rows of students. He gave a small nod of acknowledgement.
“It’s the Nae Nae y’all!” Hill said, still in motion. “Let’s try it again!”
As students started from the top, Ja’mese said that it reminded her of her training with Elite Drill Squad & Drum Corps, where she does majorette after school and on the weekends. She added that was excited to see moves that aren’t always considered dance—hip hop, breaking, popping and locking, for instance—fit neatly into the routine.
“I love it!” she said. “It’s an escape from reality, especially when I get to do it during school.”
As the sun rose higher over the sprawl of asphalt, rows of her peers mastered the choreography, adding onto it one handful of steps at a time. When Hill flipped the music on, they clapped in time with the beat, stretching out their arms before their legs caught up. Hill called out a count, and they picked it up, turning in place as his voice—“six – seven – eight!”—sailed over the music.
They criss-crossed their feet, shoulders bouncing. They sank into their knees and walked back, this time with a more certain, sun-soaked swagger. A few laughed, not dropping the moves for a moment. On the outskirts of the group, capoeira teacher Lisa Bergmann watched, beaming.
“Turn, turn, turn,” Hill said, hands making a spinning motion as Waller buzzed around the group, checking in on students who needed extra assistance. “Turn turn turn—” he jumped to his left, and then to the right just as quickly. “Side! Side!”
Back in the front row, Ja’mese—now in only her socks, crocs pushed away and neatly arranged on the asphalt—hadn’t missed a beat. Beside her, fellow student Max Tomlin said she was also excited to have the opportunity to learn dance during the school day. Both she and Ja’mese take Bergmann’s capoeira class, an elective that ESSER Funds covered this year.
“I feel good!” Max said. Just feet away from her, Hill was thinking through the next steps of the dance. He looked up and smiled at the group, and got ready to take it from the top.
“Okay,” he said. “Let’s start from the beginning.”
