Cchicken's Weblog

Back in the day, I was quite the tap dancer.  Well, probably not so much in skills, but rather in my enthusiasm and love for it.  I put my tap dancing career on pause in high school, you know, to pay attention to more important things, like getting into a good college by being well rounded.  Tapping stayed on the backburner throughout college, although that does not mean that I didn’t have my tap shoes there, and that they didn’t come out on occasion, to my roommate’s horror.  Post college, I have continued to tap in my kitchen, to make Joe watch parts of my old recital dances (not videos but me reenacting the glory), and to frighten both my students and dogs with my large radii ‘wings.’  

Tap was a thing of my past.  That is, until, this past Tuesday evening. Yup.  I went to tap class.  One thing I learned pretty quickly-  When one hasn’t been in a tap class since about 1993 or so, one should not, I repeat, NOT, decide she should jump back in with a class called “Adult Intermediate II.”

First off, my shoes were out of date.  A sixty year old woman looked me up and down, stared at my shoes, raised her eyebrows, and gave me a rather snooty “I’m a cooler tap dancer than you” look, and quite frankly, made me feel rather unwelcome.  I think she was just intimidated by my youthful demeanor and possible tapping prowess.  In my own tapping snootiness, I noticed a woman next to me had ‘jingle taps,’ which we were taught not to use, as they created extra sounds that your skills might not actually be providing.  I had a moment of pride there, in that my taps were true tap shoes, and not some fabricated skill maker jingle tap.  That pride lasted for about thirty seconds.

I got in front of the mirror and noticed my body had changed from the last time I was in a tap studio.  I was no longer straight, skinny, and slightly boyish looking.  Since the early nineties, I had become quite a bit more curvy than I remember being in tap class.  Hmm. Interesting.

We started with some ’shuffles.’  The music was a vibrant jazz tune with a rhythm to make the crankiest person alive want to run around and dance.  I was in love all over again.  Ahhhh, I was tapping.  Shuffling to the side, behind me, even double time.I got my arms to participate in the dancing drama.  Mannnn, I was good.

The instructor quickly moved us into a few combinations.  I kept up at first.  I remembered immediately why I loved tapping so much- the rhythms, the movements, the sound connected with the music, it is all so freeing for the spirit.  I was really grooving now.

Our little combinations turned into something a bit more than ‘little,’ and as the entire class began incorporating a whole set of moves I had never seen before, my brain started thinking too hard, my feet couldn’t keep up, and I had absolutely no idea what I was doing in “Adult Intermediate II.”  After nearly tripping myself and my neighbor I decided to quit while I was ahead and sneak out the back.  The woman who had scoffed at my antique shoes sneered at me disapprovingly.  I could feel her chuckling at me as I tip tapped out of the Intermediate II madness.

I wanted to turn to her and dramatically let her know “I’ll be back.  You haven’t gotten rid of me for good.  I’ll start over in Intermediate I (I’m not going to beginning.  I know the basics.  So there.)  After a session or two of Intermediate I, you’ll see me here again.  And I’ll tap all around you, fancy shoes lady.”

I actually didn’t really care that she thought I sucked and that she was glad that I left.  I had a great time.  I lasted 27 minutes, but definitely remembered why tap dancing, or dancing in general, is an indispensable part of life, and was left only wondering why I had waited so long to jump back into it.  

Maybe just not so enthusiastically as to immediately attempt Intermediate II.

(to be fair, the only reason I chose II over I was purely for scheduling reasons.  long story, but I certainly didn’t actually think I was going to blow the tappers out of the water…)