In the Back of the Room

Early in life, my mother gave me the choice between gymnastics or dance lessons. I had to choose one. I remember it being a tough decision, but I ultimately choose dance. I alternated between teal green matching tights and leotard and a sky blue ensemble and enthusiastically arrived for each dance lesson prepared for what instruction awaited me on those wooden floors.

Over the years, my lessons increased from two days a week to every day of the week. I delighted in each class whether it be tap, jazz or ballet and expanded my studies to include two different dance studios.

It may sound cliché, but when I dance it truly is for the love of dance. I love the way I can feel every muscle in my body tightening or releasing into the correct shape or movement. It feels like strength and balance and beauty all at once. Everything is in the right place if only for a moment before changing to the next position. It is energizing and empowering and joyful. The beat of the music courses through my body and my muscles surprise me as they move to the rhythm. In a word, it just feels good.

I can still do all of my time steps and gracefully glissade across a floor, but the dance lesson that strikes a chord the most strongly with me is not a dance lesson at all; it just took place during a dance class.

At some point during high school, some of the coming-of-age social issues I had struggled with seemed to compound. I can’t put my finger on exactly what was causing my anxiety at the time. It was too long ago and being a teenager can be confusing. I know that there was a boyfriend. There were also girls that weren’t too pleased about the boyfriend. There were friends that turned out not to be friends and there were comparisons to others that didn’t quite seem to fit me. It was confusing. I was sad.

At my dance classes, I started to move but not with the music. I started to move to the back of the room. Without saying anything from week to week, I moved myself from the front row to the middle row and finally to the back where I lifelessly executed the required steps. It didn’t seem to matter. I was still back there participating. I didn’t think much of it actually. I was pretty wrapped up in just being sad.

Then, one day, I was surprised. After a week or so of hanging out in the back row, my dance instructor Mr. Joel, walked straight towards me in the middle of a class and said these words to me, “What are you doing here in the back?” That was it; that was all he said, and he walked away. It was just enough though. It shocked me out of my pity party. Wow!

Those simple words, “What are you doing here in the back?” made me realize that I had put myself there. No one else had put me there. I had taken my joy away from myself. I had separated myself from one of the greatest gifts I had been given at that point in my life.  I was shocked…at myself.

Mr. Joel’s words took the wind out of my lungs, but they also did more than that. They blew away the selfish sadness I had used to cloud my judgment. Although, I wasn’t completely healed of my anxieties, those words inspired me to take ownership for my role in letting those anxieties get the better of me. They allowed me to say that I could control my happiness as well as my success.

I didn’t want a cloud of confusion or sadness to get the better of me anymore.

As slowly as I had moved to the back of the room, I began moving to the front of the room again. By the end of my senior year, I was dancing wholeheartedly again and I felt good again. I felt successful.

When the senior awards were announced at the end-of-the-year recital, I clapped proudly as a friend of mine was recognized for her great skills and dedication. She deserved it! What I didn’t expect was to have my name mentioned as a close and second runner up. It was quite an honor as well as recognition of those slow steps that I took back to the front of the room.

You see the thing is, no one else can put you in the back of the room and no one else can put you in the front of it again except for you. It’s a very hard concept, especially when you’re sitting in the back. But believe me, you can do it. You may be surprised or shocked when someone points it out to you but be glad and do something about it! Only you can!

·      Think of the ways you put yourself in the back of the room at school, at work or socially.

·      Have you gone back and forth? What did you learn from each of these experiences?

·      What talents do you or do you not live into that bring you joy?