The Art of Being

Tap Class

Yeah so it's been some time since I posted.... I almost forgot this thing was out here. So many things have happened... weddings, births, rearrangement of furniture... but I've been wanting to write about... Tap Class.

So I’m taking a tap class. Tap as in dance. I did a little of it last year, and I really enjoyed it. No need for a partner, just the right shoes and off you go. I saw that CP was offering a tap class this semester in Continuing Education, and at a time that I could actually attend.

The first class was on a Monday. I got there about 10 minutes early, just to be safe. I didn’t want to be late in a dance class, it creates a different kind of panic. I walk down the hallway to the classroom and see one girl sitting out in the hallway. She appears to be about 22 or so, and judging by her clothing this is not her first dance class. I talk to her for a little bit, and this is her first time attending this class. Another lady walks up, this one in her 50s. This is also her first time at this particular class. 5:30 comes and goes. Traffic was really bad, I would have been late if I hadn’t left so obsessively early. A fourth new person wanders up. Now comes the students who have taken the class several times. They are all women in their 50s and 60s. There are a couple who might be 40 at the youngest. My anxiety subsides. I am here for fun and exercise, and to push myself to learn new things. I didn’t expect to be even close to the best, but I was very afraid I would be the worst. Another instructor arrives to open the studio for us. The veterans assure us that they don’t usually get started until 5:45, and we all wander into the studio.

The instructor finally arrives, and spends about five minutes discussing the condition of the floor with the other instructor. Everyone is putting on their tap shoes, and I am glad that I own a pair. There are about 14 students in the class now. The instructor gets out the roster and establishes the new people then realizes he is missing one of his tap shoes. He tells one of the ladies to get us started on the drill while he fetches his shoe from the car, but apparently no one remembers it. No introduction, no “this is what we do here” just LET’S GO! Bit by bit through the hour I realize that the instructor has taught this class for about 12 years, and a few of the participants have been enrolled since day one. The further in the back you stand, the longer you have been in the class. The woman standing behind me comments that it took her 4 years to get back to the second row. The degree of concentration and effort drastically decreases from front to back. Of course the new folks are trying to get everything, concentrating on every step and practicing between takes. The ladies in the very back do whatever they feel like, whenever they feel like it.

I’m not sure what to make of the class just yet. Right now I have the feeling that I walked into the living room of a complete stranger, and all the folks sitting there looked to acknowledge my presence, then returned to chatting. No pomp and circumstance welcome, no direction as to where the cheese dip is, yet no hostility or condescension. I’m sure there is a lesson to be learned somewhere.

So far I have learned that I need new tap shoes. Mine are entirely too inflexible, and I can’t do some of the ridiculously advanced things we are doing.

posted by Wendy @ 11:53 AM