It has been half a century since Rudolf Flesch published his blockbuster book, “Why Johnny Can’t Read.”  Flesch’s thesis was that American educators were failing the task of teaching our nation’s youth how to read.

I recently formed a thesis of my own.  Unlike Flesch's, my thesis wasn't born in the hallowed halls of an institution of higher learning, and it wasn't the result of years of concentrated research.  No, mine just sort of came to me a few hours into a dance competition one night.

My thesis?  America's dance teachers are obviously botching their job of teaching our nation's youth how to "work it."

I'm serious.  I've notice it before, but the problem seemed particularly acute at this competition.  Dance after dance, you wouldn't believe how these kids had to be constantly reminded to "work it."  Now, I can see where a teacher might casually walk up to a dancer before she goes on stage and quietly whisper in her ear, "Don't forget to work it," but these dancers must have been seriously "work it" deficient, because the teachers kept screaming at them while they were on stage.  "Work it, Nicole!"  "Work it, Lindsey!"  "Work it, girl!"  I'm sure the judges heard this, and I can't help but think that at some point they must have started deducting points for failure to "work it."

I felt particularly bad for a teenage girl named Ashley.  She gracefully made her way onto the stage for her solo.  To my untrained eye, I could see no telltale signs that Ashley didn't know how to properly "work it," but those around me seemed to know better, and they were so bothered by Ashley's inability to "work it" that they couldn't contain themselves.  Over the next three minutes I counted as 14 people -- parents, teachers and fellow dancers -- yelled out, "Work it, Ashley!" from the audience.

Now, I don't know Ashley.  She dances at a different studio than my daughter does, but she seems like a nice girl and a capable dancer.  She could spin and jump and roll on the floor and do all those dancer things with reasonably proficiency.  Still, I couldn't help but wonder why Ashley would have such difficulty remembering to "work it" without these constant reminders.  I felt so bad for her that I wanted to stand up and shout "Point your damn toes!" just so she wouldn't think we all noticed the whole "work it" problem.  But Ashley apparently has thick skin, and she managed to mask her shame and muddle through without my help.

A girl named Courtney followed Ashley a few dances later and received only nine shouts of "Work it, Courtney!"  I guess that means Courtney is a better dancer than Ashley.  Or perhaps her fellow dancers like "Court" less than "Ash" and hope that she forgets to "work it" every now and then.  I've heard that these competitions can be cut-throat, but would someone really withhold a "work it" reminder just to undermine another dancer?  As I think about it, some of them did seem a little half-hearted in their "work it" encouragement of Courtney.  Whatever the truth is, I think it's just a shame that we've gotten to the point in our society where we have to question the sincerity of a "work it."

And then there's Mandy -- apparently the best from her studio at remembering to "work it" since she required just three calls of "Work it, Mandy!" and all of those came as she posed on stage waiting for her music to start.  Why Mandy's "work its" were all front loaded remains a mystery to me.  My guess is that she simply has better "work it" retention.  I'm sure her parents are proud.  It's the kind of thing that will probably make Mandy's college application stand out some day.

So as I sat quietly pondered the importance and nuances of "working it," my thesis began to take shape, and one question led to another.  Just what are these dance instructors doing in class week after week if not teaching our children to "work it?"  Can't something be done about this?  How do I know if my daughter's studio is qualified to teach her to "work it?"  Where does a teacher go to become certified in "working it?"  Shouldn't this all be addressed by 'No Child Left Behind?'

I sort of lost track of the on-stage activities until I looked up in horror.  I could feel my heart in my throat as I saw Ashley, Courtney and Mandy all take the stage together for a jazz trio.  By this point the entire crowd was clearly wise to the whole "working it" situation and aware that at any moment one or more of these poor girls might forget to "work it" and, well, I shudder to consider the consequences.

But in a scene reminiscent of Hands Across America, everyone came together in their encouragement.  There were no longer any studios.  We were all one community of dance united in our belief and determination that children everywhere, regardless of their background, financial circumstances or upbringing, can and must learn to "work it."

I'm not sure what song the trio danced to that evening, because the music was inaudible under the screams from the audience.  "Work it, Ash!  Work it, Mandy!  Work it, Court-nay!"  I tried to move my lips to join in, but no sound came.  Instead I sat breathless as I watched these three girls -- previously unknown to me -- "work it" like never before.

Some time later as the clock struck midnight and the award presentations labored into their second hour, Ashley quietly collected a gold medal for her solo to the sparse applause of the nearly comatose audience.  I thought for just a minute that Ashley might get one of those special recognition ribbons for trying so hard to "work it," but these judges were tough.  There would be no coddling this evening -- no charity awards for merely trying to "work it."  No, these judges demanded the real deal.  And when you get right down to it, that's the only way our kids are ever going to learn to "work it."

And then I remembered Johnny.  I'm not sure what ever happened to him.  I like to imagine that somewhere along the way a caring teacher took him under her wing, devoted the necessary time and attention and taught him the miracle of reading.  I can just about picture them in the classroom in my mind's eye -- a lone student seated at a desk, a bead of perspiration forming on his brow as he concentrates on the written page before him, while an idealistic young teacher stands above him, looks on and voices those encouraging words that finally make the difference in his life...

"Work it, Johnny!"