For my birthday this year, my gift from the hubs was to sign up for dance lessons, something I’ve wanted to do for years. Madeline started at a studio this year and they offer tap and jazz for adults. Well, I decided to start small and just add the jazz, plus a zumba class for good measure. My ulterior motive, aside from wanting to dance again, is to lose weight in the process.
I dusted off my jazz shoes from junior high and headed to my first class, both nervous and excited. I loved that we did ab and leg work before getting into the dancing. (Well, at the time, I didn’t love it, but I know it’s good for me.) The floor work (going across the floor in twos doing a simple step like a pas de bourre) was fun as well, once I got over the whole class watching what I was doing. Then came the choreography. Important note – the class actually started a month before, so I was starting late. The class reviewed the new steps from last week, and I was able to mostly catch on. Then they took it from the top.
The inner monologue in my head went something like this: “Okay, I can do that. Okay, got it. Got it. Wait, what the? Oh crap. I’m screwed.” I was desperately trying to hold on to the excitement of dancing again and fight the urge to run out the door. Then it got worse. They said, “you’re gonna be in the show right?” Wait, show? The spring recital, right? Surely I can catch on by then. But, no. The show is in early December. I gotta say, I left that first class feeling a little deflated.
But the good news is I practiced all week and our teacher was nice enough to come in early the next week to review all the steps. Yesterday, before my third class, I did the routine through twice with no mistakes. Is it perfectly polished? No. Do I have a lot of work to do before the show? Absolutely. But now I know going back to class was a good idea and I’m hopeful I can get through the performance without embarassing myself.