Some days you gotta dance
At the very beginning, I knew I stuck out. All you had to do was look at my footwear. Everyone else had impressive tan or black shoes with smart heals. The metal peices on the soles gave a terrific clap when they were banged against the floor. It was odd but I didn't have tap shoes for the beginner adult tap class - all I had were my sneakers.
Sneakers don't exactly make any terrific noises against wood floor. In fact, their rubber soles just seem to become tacky and gluey against the wood surface. This is what I like to think was the reason for my inability to execute the dance moves. My ball changes were more fumbles and my spins more closely resembled wobbles.
The dance class may have been small but we did have an audience. My sister's three children hung out for the hour-long class. They promised not to laugh at the novice dancers in the family - my mother and I - but I honestly don't know how they muffled their giggles. The three of them employed some creative measures to shield their smiles. They created a fortress out of cardboard boxes - the oldest completely covered his head with a Postal Service box. While the teacher demonstrated the moves, you could hear the patter of bare feet as they scurried from one side of the room to another.
The dance class played out like a comedy - my mother's improtu robot moves only added to the humor.
But what else can you do but smile, laugh, and kick up your heals? Which we did. Life is full of blunders and awarkardness -what better remedy than to dance up a cloud of clapping to shake it all away?
Sneakers don't exactly make any terrific noises against wood floor. In fact, their rubber soles just seem to become tacky and gluey against the wood surface. This is what I like to think was the reason for my inability to execute the dance moves. My ball changes were more fumbles and my spins more closely resembled wobbles.
The dance class may have been small but we did have an audience. My sister's three children hung out for the hour-long class. They promised not to laugh at the novice dancers in the family - my mother and I - but I honestly don't know how they muffled their giggles. The three of them employed some creative measures to shield their smiles. They created a fortress out of cardboard boxes - the oldest completely covered his head with a Postal Service box. While the teacher demonstrated the moves, you could hear the patter of bare feet as they scurried from one side of the room to another.
The dance class played out like a comedy - my mother's improtu robot moves only added to the humor.
But what else can you do but smile, laugh, and kick up your heals? Which we did. Life is full of blunders and awarkardness -what better remedy than to dance up a cloud of clapping to shake it all away?
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