Thoughts from tap class

The tap class I'm taking has one number in the year end dance recital.  It's a regular routine, not like the dads who dance, which is meant to be humorous.  A few weeks before I joined the class, another mom had said she was going to take the class but she wasn't going to be in the recital because she was starting halfway through the (dance) year.  I assumed the same was true for me.  She ended up dropping the class after the first week, which, yes, did scare me a little.

After my first class, as we all changed shoes in the lobby, the discussion of costuming for the recital came up.  Someone had found and printed from Amazon a handful of sparkly tops.  Our instructor told us to discuss with each other and keep in mind how it would appear onstage.  She didn't want five women in pink and one in black.  Mix it up.  I was curious and looking at the tops when someone asked me which one I would go with.

"Probably that one," I said, pointing to a light pink racerback tank.  "But it doesn't matter because I'm not going to be in the recital."

I had just watched the class run through the first half of the dance and agreed to pick up where they were learning new parts.  Hey, I could Front Irish because the girls had taught me but that was the first dance class I'd ever participated in.

"Oh, you'll be fine.  You'll pick it up," was the response I received.  Hey, I'm glad someone has faith in me, but I'm not so confident.

At the next class, I used my phone to video the first part of the dance.  The thought was maybe the girls could teach it to me.  The only problem with this is that some of the steps are similar to ones in their dances but slightly different.  Emily worked with me on one and the next week, during her dance, kept doing my step instead of hers.  Sorry, little chick.  But they've been awesome teachers.  Without them, I don't think I'd be doing this.  I have my own private tutors.

A few weeks ago, the dance studio checked the spelling of names for the recital program.  Are you in?  Up to this point, I had been learning the second half of the dance and was told that I could just jump in.  The dancers transition from a vertical line to a horizontal and I can flap, flap hop my way from sidestage.  The problem is that there's a triple buck time step shortly after that and while I can do it in slow motion, I cannot put it together as fast as it needs to be for the dance.

Right now, I'm undecided.  I told the owner she could leave my name out of the program and if I feel ready, I can still dance.  I don't need my name in the program.

We've learned the remainder of the dance, which is to the song Mambo No. 5 by the way, and Friday night, our teacher began reteaching from the beginning.  There's the Alexander the girls had taught me back in January and I had forgotten, and a Maxi Ford.  Yesterday morning, I ran 5 miles and then, later in the afternoon, put on my tap shoes and asked the girls to help me.  (Talk about a good workout day.)  "That's good, Momma.  You got it.  Just clean it up."  I have to say that being a runner has helped considerably.  While my heart rate may go up a little or I may feel a slight burn after leg buster warmups, I don't ever feel winded.    

I sometimes feel like there's reverse parent/child stuff going on.  So you know how if a parent excelled at an activity (instrument, sport, what have you), they expect their child to have the same skills?  People at the dance studio expect me to be a good dancer and learn quickly because the girls are so awesome.  I've been told that they had to get it from somewhere.  I'm not quite sure it works that way.  My flaps still get stuck in the mud, but I'm trying and having fun doing it.