I felt revered...like a rising star that everyone wanted to emulate. The eyes of all these madams, these women so carefully dressed–a gold chain matching with a hanging belt, jeans embroidered with a lace edge–were fixed on me. If I grabbed my foot to stretch out my thigh, the woman with the Egyptian elongated eyes grabbed hers. When I bent over to touch the floor, another cooed: "Ooo, how flexible you are." The others nodded their heads in unison as if in the chorus of a musical.

I wanted to stay staring at my feet, but I was also flattered. As my high school stage director Mr. Heitkamp once expressed in exasperated tones: "You want to be on stage, yet you don't want to be seen! I don't get it." 

I don't get it quite myself, Mr. Heitkamp, even after living for almost 50 years and being part of a good amount of productions.

This feeling later increased when the main teacher told me to demonstrate the dance (The Shim Sham) in front of the class so he could watch the students. You see, I wasn't a student: I was the teacher's assistant. I had learned the Shim Sham years ago, so it wasn't new. Not only that, but in swing get-togethers it's a staple. Yet, I still had doubts. In fact, at some point I didn't know where I was in the choreography. I stopped, feeling inadequate.

But why? The teacher had lost his place or rhythm many times and wasn't fazed in the least. Even if he only "kinda" remembered the step or wasn't sure of where it went on the beat, he continued on, confident he had something to teach. And he did.


Text: Kristen Mastromarchi

Photo: <a href="https://pixabay.com/users/leloops-14891393/?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=4760604">leloops</a> from <a href="https://pixabay.com//?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=image&utm_content=4760604">Pixabay</a>

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