People always seem to make that "oh, here he goes again" face every time I ever mention my brief dancing career in high school but here and now I'm going to attempt to get into it and relay to you in a very inevitably wordy post why it effected me so greatly. Why I will never forget it for the rest of my days.
Sometimes it's a little scary to get out of bed on "big days". You know, like the day your team is to play the state championship game, or the day of your senior prom, or graduation day. Because to lay in bed is to delay all of the countless obligations and events that are to swirl around you all at once. You get to sit in blissful peace for just a moment, if not many thought-filled moments longer. But as soon as you emerge from your room and incomparably comfortable bed, rubbing leftover grogginess out of the corners of your eyes, you must take on the day ahead. And that is when the game begins. There are no do-overs, and you're playing for keeps. After all, the day is an important one. Much of your life in some form or another has crescendo'ed into this finale and if left up to you, you'd like to leave nothing unsaid, no option unexplored, or undone, etc. etc. Basically, put simply, you want its memory to bring a soft and sweet smile to your face when you get around to looking back. You want to feel a joyful, and maybe even bittersweet lump form in your throat when the day is done, and you've given it all you've got. And... that's what makes it scary. You invest so much into it, and it's easy to fix mistakes along the way when time (is seemingly) not an issue, because you compensate with double effort the next day or something. But when you are to finally face the final curtain call, time is no longer so forgiving.
My big day junior year came in the middle of May I believe. It was a warm Saturday. A slight breeze rustled the leaves and sunshine bounced off of the street and outdoor furniture in blinding excitement as I pulled up to the back side of my high school. My massive, at times overwhelming high school. We were 5,000 strong and growing, and I'd made countless friends out of the sea of faces I passed during school hours. Really thought I'd reached a point that I figured I'd met just about anyone and everyone that I cared to meet, and turned off that part of myself that reached out. But that changed drastically when I decided to take up my friend on her suggestion and tried out for the drill team Co-Ed Dance dance pieces... There's no way I could have seen then the brave new adventure my heart would embark on. And how to this day I would always remember those swing steps.
The day of try-outs, I showed up in a tank top and basketball shorts, coupled with worn converse and sweaty palms. I told myself over and over that none of it mattered and either way I'd just have my fun with it. "These people don't really care to take this all too seriously anyway" I thought. In total there were about 18 guys who came to the gig, all of them upperclassmen, none of which I knew, which made sitting nervously outside the studio a bit more tense. Once in, we hopped right into some lifting drills. I remember there were about 10 girls present to sort of be the dance instructor's measuring tools and extra hands, to teach us the lifts and turns as she evaluated us all. And how when after showing us a simple pull through of sorts, being that I was in the back, I had no partner and simply watched like the wallflower I'd always been. It wasn't long before one girl noticed and decided to show me the ropes. She didn't seem particularly impressed with my performance. But to be fair, she didn't seem the type to be impressed with anything, so I tried to ignore it. Following this session, a sort of step progression was taught and then of course evaluated as we danced facing the large mirror wall. The head lady absolutely loved my "natural skill for dancing" and humor, but the other guys all seemed to get along much better. Both with the girls and the instructor, so I paid the compliment no mind. Following this and a brief water break, we moved on to the "hard part".
"Pennies" were what they were called. I don't know how to explain them to you, other than to say that they are the most tiring things ever ( look them up on YouTube or something). I was very slow to want to try doing one for multiple reasons. For one, I didn't think I'd be quite strong enough to manage the maneuver. I mean you're basically making your dance partner a nun-chuck, and half of the bigger guys were struggling with it quite badly. Secondly, I didn't want to hurt my partner, or even worse, have my hand slip. Caught between not wanting to crush the girl's ribs in or dropping her, there was also the issue of trying very hard not to accidentally grab breasts. That would be a hard situation to come back from on the first day... But of course, with how my life always seems to go, I was one of the first that a girl walked up to to try the maneuver out. She was a tiny girl, but my fears didn't settle in the least, so taking a few deep breaths, I just counted off and went for it. To my surprise, it was surprisingly easy ( for me, I apparently was much stronger than most of the bigger guys that came in ) and in the final swing, I managed to have her legs at about a 80 degree angle. The silence that formed as I went about this and the gasp that left the DI's mouth made me so nervous that I didn't think to lower my partner slowly, and I ended up dropping her... And pretty hard.. But she was sweet as can be about it, and with that, the DI absolutely loved me. She gave the green light for people to call it a night and head home, and some of the guys dapped me up on their way out. The girls all rustled about back into their locker room behind the mirror wall. All but one. Sifting through the crowd, relatively tall with long blonde hair and unmentioned authority, came one last person toward me. Apparently most of the girls had, in the time that it took me to get my things together and call my brother for a ride home, decided which guys they worked best with and who they wanted on the dance team. All except for Her of course. As it turns out, she didn't seem to keen on any of the guys she had worked with. So before I left, she grabbed me and with an odd, searching gaze, asked if I could go through the moves with her. And so, with the girls who hadn't left yet and the DI, I did. And well. Once done, I apologized for not doing quite as well as with the other girl, but without even a word she silenced me and said I was just fine. The DI with a wide grin handed me a pen and clipboard to sign, name and phone number, and I left.
That following Wednesday I got a text from an unknown number giving me a schedule of future practices, and on Thursday I walked up to the newly placed list on the studio door before putting my things down and preparing for the dancing ahead. Of course, the paper had a list on either side- one for the guys that made it, and another for their partners respectively and their rank within the drill team. And whose name do you think was typed out across the top of that list? Yep. You guessed it. It was mine, lined up beside a "Jane Doe" ( obviously not her name but for the sake of not facilitating stalking, Jane Doe will do )... "Jane Doe - Captain." Yep, I somehow managed to not only make the team, and sign myself up for loads of stage fright nervousness, but I also now had the pressure of not ruining this poor girls senior year showcase as captain... My heart dropped when I read it, but when greeted sweetly by my now fellow dancers, the anxiety took a back seat and I took on the challenge.
Practices were fun and I looked forward to them. Two days a week didn't quite feel like enough, despite the fact that I was juggling rugby and off-season football workouts all at once. I finally realized my love for dancing and got to actually express it. It was fun. Not to mention times were never dull with the Co-Ed bunch, always goofing around and providing moments for plenty of relationships to grow.
Some time in the middle of March we had a dance competition and it was a blast. Apparently some of the guys had been in the "program" and in the years prior had built up a tradition of being absolute hood-rats wherever Co-Ed dance took them. I can't even begin to describe how badly we destroyed that locker room we stayed in, or the dance floor when we performed and absolutely killed it in front of hundreds of dancers etc from all around North Texas in that high school gym. I remember telling of this to my dance partner as I carried her over my shoulder off of the stage (out of the gym) like a sack of potatoes- it was a goofy thing our DI wanted us to do to add some humor/character to our entry and exit as a group. Anyway, back on the dance, it was the first time we performed in front of an audience and man did it give me a rush. After it all, once back at our own school parking lot, my partner scooped me up and took me with her to Cane's to meet up with some others. I remember during that drive, and on the way to dropping me off that we finally talked and started to alleviate some of the awkwardness we'd built up at that point. We finally began to get to know each other, and I was finally allowed to begin to understand the one I had spent all that time with. As I turned away from my waved goodbye to the red taillights that trailed off into the night I couldn't help but smile down at my feet and think about it all as I attempted sleeping.
The dance competition ended as a school-wide holiday/break began, so after that nice chat with my dance partner I wanted nothing more than a chance to hangout with her and figure her out. In my mind she just had something about her, a certain air and grace that I had to ask her about and find its source- but she had a week long mission trip across an ocean or two that halted that before it ever got rolling. I remember I had texted her a few times, a new thing for us awkward folk, asking what her plans were and expanding on our conversation from the car ride. But none of it felt quite as impactful or wholly satisfying over text, so I ended the conversation quickly and tastefully.
The week she came back we had three extra-long practices in which our DI would introduce new material and refine the dance we'd been working on for months via video reviews and partner-to-partner chats. Though at first they were a bit nerve-wracking because she mentioned we would take turns performing the dance a few pairs at a time, it ended up like most things with those folk- healthily competitive and very fun. A few times I would stay after the rehearsal was over and chat with those people, picking up bits and pieces of their own lives and stories while not saying much. Even in passing I'd hear plenty that provided insight on the individuals involved, big or small. It was weird always seeming to be around at the right places at the right time. I was subject to a whole new world of ideas and emotions I hadn't even considered before, not to mention I got to see how the other side lived (the not-really-but-sorta-kinda glamorous life of a popular drill team girl). Then there was also
Sometimes it's a little scary to get out of bed on "big days". You know, like the day your team is to play the state championship game, or the day of your senior prom, or graduation day. Because to lay in bed is to delay all of the countless obligations and events that are to swirl around you all at once. You get to sit in blissful peace for just a moment, if not many thought-filled moments longer. But as soon as you emerge from your room and incomparably comfortable bed, rubbing leftover grogginess out of the corners of your eyes, you must take on the day ahead. And that is when the game begins. There are no do-overs, and you're playing for keeps. After all, the day is an important one. Much of your life in some form or another has crescendo'ed into this finale and if left up to you, you'd like to leave nothing unsaid, no option unexplored, or undone, etc. etc. Basically, put simply, you want its memory to bring a soft and sweet smile to your face when you get around to looking back. You want to feel a joyful, and maybe even bittersweet lump form in your throat when the day is done, and you've given it all you've got. And... that's what makes it scary. You invest so much into it, and it's easy to fix mistakes along the way when time (is seemingly) not an issue, because you compensate with double effort the next day or something. But when you are to finally face the final curtain call, time is no longer so forgiving.
My big day junior year came in the middle of May I believe. It was a warm Saturday. A slight breeze rustled the leaves and sunshine bounced off of the street and outdoor furniture in blinding excitement as I pulled up to the back side of my high school. My massive, at times overwhelming high school. We were 5,000 strong and growing, and I'd made countless friends out of the sea of faces I passed during school hours. Really thought I'd reached a point that I figured I'd met just about anyone and everyone that I cared to meet, and turned off that part of myself that reached out. But that changed drastically when I decided to take up my friend on her suggestion and tried out for the drill team Co-Ed Dance dance pieces... There's no way I could have seen then the brave new adventure my heart would embark on. And how to this day I would always remember those swing steps.
The day of try-outs, I showed up in a tank top and basketball shorts, coupled with worn converse and sweaty palms. I told myself over and over that none of it mattered and either way I'd just have my fun with it. "These people don't really care to take this all too seriously anyway" I thought. In total there were about 18 guys who came to the gig, all of them upperclassmen, none of which I knew, which made sitting nervously outside the studio a bit more tense. Once in, we hopped right into some lifting drills. I remember there were about 10 girls present to sort of be the dance instructor's measuring tools and extra hands, to teach us the lifts and turns as she evaluated us all. And how when after showing us a simple pull through of sorts, being that I was in the back, I had no partner and simply watched like the wallflower I'd always been. It wasn't long before one girl noticed and decided to show me the ropes. She didn't seem particularly impressed with my performance. But to be fair, she didn't seem the type to be impressed with anything, so I tried to ignore it. Following this session, a sort of step progression was taught and then of course evaluated as we danced facing the large mirror wall. The head lady absolutely loved my "natural skill for dancing" and humor, but the other guys all seemed to get along much better. Both with the girls and the instructor, so I paid the compliment no mind. Following this and a brief water break, we moved on to the "hard part".
"Pennies" were what they were called. I don't know how to explain them to you, other than to say that they are the most tiring things ever ( look them up on YouTube or something). I was very slow to want to try doing one for multiple reasons. For one, I didn't think I'd be quite strong enough to manage the maneuver. I mean you're basically making your dance partner a nun-chuck, and half of the bigger guys were struggling with it quite badly. Secondly, I didn't want to hurt my partner, or even worse, have my hand slip. Caught between not wanting to crush the girl's ribs in or dropping her, there was also the issue of trying very hard not to accidentally grab breasts. That would be a hard situation to come back from on the first day... But of course, with how my life always seems to go, I was one of the first that a girl walked up to to try the maneuver out. She was a tiny girl, but my fears didn't settle in the least, so taking a few deep breaths, I just counted off and went for it. To my surprise, it was surprisingly easy ( for me, I apparently was much stronger than most of the bigger guys that came in ) and in the final swing, I managed to have her legs at about a 80 degree angle. The silence that formed as I went about this and the gasp that left the DI's mouth made me so nervous that I didn't think to lower my partner slowly, and I ended up dropping her... And pretty hard.. But she was sweet as can be about it, and with that, the DI absolutely loved me. She gave the green light for people to call it a night and head home, and some of the guys dapped me up on their way out. The girls all rustled about back into their locker room behind the mirror wall. All but one. Sifting through the crowd, relatively tall with long blonde hair and unmentioned authority, came one last person toward me. Apparently most of the girls had, in the time that it took me to get my things together and call my brother for a ride home, decided which guys they worked best with and who they wanted on the dance team. All except for Her of course. As it turns out, she didn't seem to keen on any of the guys she had worked with. So before I left, she grabbed me and with an odd, searching gaze, asked if I could go through the moves with her. And so, with the girls who hadn't left yet and the DI, I did. And well. Once done, I apologized for not doing quite as well as with the other girl, but without even a word she silenced me and said I was just fine. The DI with a wide grin handed me a pen and clipboard to sign, name and phone number, and I left.
That following Wednesday I got a text from an unknown number giving me a schedule of future practices, and on Thursday I walked up to the newly placed list on the studio door before putting my things down and preparing for the dancing ahead. Of course, the paper had a list on either side- one for the guys that made it, and another for their partners respectively and their rank within the drill team. And whose name do you think was typed out across the top of that list? Yep. You guessed it. It was mine, lined up beside a "Jane Doe" ( obviously not her name but for the sake of not facilitating stalking, Jane Doe will do )... "Jane Doe - Captain." Yep, I somehow managed to not only make the team, and sign myself up for loads of stage fright nervousness, but I also now had the pressure of not ruining this poor girls senior year showcase as captain... My heart dropped when I read it, but when greeted sweetly by my now fellow dancers, the anxiety took a back seat and I took on the challenge.
Practices were fun and I looked forward to them. Two days a week didn't quite feel like enough, despite the fact that I was juggling rugby and off-season football workouts all at once. I finally realized my love for dancing and got to actually express it. It was fun. Not to mention times were never dull with the Co-Ed bunch, always goofing around and providing moments for plenty of relationships to grow.
Some time in the middle of March we had a dance competition and it was a blast. Apparently some of the guys had been in the "program" and in the years prior had built up a tradition of being absolute hood-rats wherever Co-Ed dance took them. I can't even begin to describe how badly we destroyed that locker room we stayed in, or the dance floor when we performed and absolutely killed it in front of hundreds of dancers etc from all around North Texas in that high school gym. I remember telling of this to my dance partner as I carried her over my shoulder off of the stage (out of the gym) like a sack of potatoes- it was a goofy thing our DI wanted us to do to add some humor/character to our entry and exit as a group. Anyway, back on the dance, it was the first time we performed in front of an audience and man did it give me a rush. After it all, once back at our own school parking lot, my partner scooped me up and took me with her to Cane's to meet up with some others. I remember during that drive, and on the way to dropping me off that we finally talked and started to alleviate some of the awkwardness we'd built up at that point. We finally began to get to know each other, and I was finally allowed to begin to understand the one I had spent all that time with. As I turned away from my waved goodbye to the red taillights that trailed off into the night I couldn't help but smile down at my feet and think about it all as I attempted sleeping.
The dance competition ended as a school-wide holiday/break began, so after that nice chat with my dance partner I wanted nothing more than a chance to hangout with her and figure her out. In my mind she just had something about her, a certain air and grace that I had to ask her about and find its source- but she had a week long mission trip across an ocean or two that halted that before it ever got rolling. I remember I had texted her a few times, a new thing for us awkward folk, asking what her plans were and expanding on our conversation from the car ride. But none of it felt quite as impactful or wholly satisfying over text, so I ended the conversation quickly and tastefully.
The week she came back we had three extra-long practices in which our DI would introduce new material and refine the dance we'd been working on for months via video reviews and partner-to-partner chats. Though at first they were a bit nerve-wracking because she mentioned we would take turns performing the dance a few pairs at a time, it ended up like most things with those folk- healthily competitive and very fun. A few times I would stay after the rehearsal was over and chat with those people, picking up bits and pieces of their own lives and stories while not saying much. Even in passing I'd hear plenty that provided insight on the individuals involved, big or small. It was weird always seeming to be around at the right places at the right time. I was subject to a whole new world of ideas and emotions I hadn't even considered before, not to mention I got to see how the other side lived (the not-really-but-sorta-kinda glamorous life of a popular drill team girl). Then there was also
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