Slice of Life Challenge - Day 4
This week, I received an unexpected invitation to a tap dance recital at a local dance studio. In the back of the facility, beyond ballet rooms, offices, and changing rooms, was a surprisingly large theater which held roughly 100 people. As I approached the theater, I could identify the evening's performers by the sharp sound of their shoes on the hallway floor. With the exception of one man, the dancers were all adult women. Many had children and even grandchildren in the audience.
The recital began with the beginning class - a small group of women of vastly different ages and shapes, all wearing black pants and different-colored v-neck tees bearing the studio name. Their routine was fairly basic, but I was mesmerized by the sound of all those shoes tapping identical sounds. I was in awe of the dancers' ability to memorize all of the different steps. Several looked very comfortable in front of the audience. One in the back looked terrified and a little clumsy. I worried she might lose her balance and fall, especially during the turns, but she survived the performance.
Each successive group got larger and their steps louder and more complicated. I wondered how long it took them to move from beginner to intermediate and finally to the advanced level. By the end of the recital, all of the dancers were on stage. All of those shoes multiplied made quite a joyful racket. The performance concluded with every flush faced dancer raising their right arm upward and bowing in unison. My face hurt a little from smiling.
This week, I received an unexpected invitation to a tap dance recital at a local dance studio. In the back of the facility, beyond ballet rooms, offices, and changing rooms, was a surprisingly large theater which held roughly 100 people. As I approached the theater, I could identify the evening's performers by the sharp sound of their shoes on the hallway floor. With the exception of one man, the dancers were all adult women. Many had children and even grandchildren in the audience.
The recital began with the beginning class - a small group of women of vastly different ages and shapes, all wearing black pants and different-colored v-neck tees bearing the studio name. Their routine was fairly basic, but I was mesmerized by the sound of all those shoes tapping identical sounds. I was in awe of the dancers' ability to memorize all of the different steps. Several looked very comfortable in front of the audience. One in the back looked terrified and a little clumsy. I worried she might lose her balance and fall, especially during the turns, but she survived the performance.
Each successive group got larger and their steps louder and more complicated. I wondered how long it took them to move from beginner to intermediate and finally to the advanced level. By the end of the recital, all of the dancers were on stage. All of those shoes multiplied made quite a joyful racket. The performance concluded with every flush faced dancer raising their right arm upward and bowing in unison. My face hurt a little from smiling.