This incident hit me like a freight train the other day.
A student asked me to come outside for a chat and there she was crying, tears streaming down her face. Between catches of crying—convulsions—you know the ones you get when you’re a kid after having a really big slobber—she said “I’m the only one who can’t get the steps”.
There I was thinking that this 30-odd year old woman had been devastated, crushed by a mere dance routine…in a dance class that was suppose to be fun. I told her she wasn’t the only one and that in time she would improve. Of course we talked about more and I assured her over and over again but the point is that she was so hooked into the moment of passion that it shook her inner being. It wasn’t just about the steps she couldn’t get. Something inside her was deeply shaken with having gone through the hour and a half long experience of Broadway class that day. At that moment in time dance ceased to become an exercise in movement. Dance had leapt over into that place I’d so worked to get people to for so long.
Dance had shakened her soul and told her something about herself. Now I know why I’ve come back to teaching, after so long. Its time to move souls again…
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