FINALLY, I AM THE TALLEST PERON IN MY CLASS!!!
Ok, so everyone else there is at least one third my age.
And, ok, there is that one pre-teen who towers over me, but she’s home sick today
Being 5’4” I know that this is a once in a lifetime event, so I am not ashamed to revel in it.
Shame? Who am I kidding?
I don’t even have the common sense to be embarrassed by the fact that I keep showing up to class in a pair of Capezio Tapsters with TeleTone Taps that I found hiding in the office. It doesn’t even phase me that I am the worst dancer in Tap II.
Nope. Not one itsy weenie bit.
One of the advantages to taking a class with these kids is they couldn’t care less what that weird old lady is doing behind them.
I thunder about, redefining arrhythmic, and it is thrilling. Please don’t get me wrong: I do try to toe, heel, shuffle, switch. It just rarely happens in that order.
Up til now, the crowning glory of my musical education was learning to spell ‘glockenspiel’ in a makeshift “mobile” classroom behind Eastside Elementary in the third grade.
For a gal who never advanced beyond wood blocks, learning to make music (loosely speaking) with my shoes (or whoever owns this undersized pair I keep “borrowing”) is empowering.
I am addicted to the nerves; the ones that awaken when you need to find the shortest distance between your brain and some obscure muscle. I don’t cling to any delusion of ever being called a hoofer, but I do enjoy rediscovering my feet.
While I have only been to five classes, I notice progress each week. Impulses scurry through my legs quicker. Sometimes I can even hear the pattern of the steps in my head over the din of my footwork.
Forming the sounds holds the same power over me as learning a foreign language.
(Maybe it is… if I took my degree in linguistics further, maybe there’s a thesis there?)
There’s a divine moment when, if you get it just right, the cacophony suddenly becomes communication.
Tapping could be my newest and noisiest method of meditation.