If you could see these tears I'm crying
Touch these hands that can't stop shaking
Hear my heart that's barely beating...

Today in dance class there were only four or so couples and nearly even ratios, which hardly ever happens. It was good because I always had a boy to dance with, but bad because I always had a boy to dance with.
You see, though I love dancing very much, I do no actually appear to be that gifted at it. My toes tend to point in, for example, instead of out. Toes that point in look "simply horrifying". Part of it can be attributed to the fact that I'm rather knock-kneed, and I like to think my knock-kneed legs are part of the reason I was so fast throughout my youth, (thus leading me to spend more time on soccer and track and less on ballet, tragically). My professor told me last year that he'd like to saw off my legs at the knees and reattach them pointing out. He gets a little frustrated with my slow progress sometimes.
Today he was especially frustrated because I didn't know how to do the "shadow bota-fogas" that he was trying to do. I told him that I was sorry that I couldn't do them, but I had missed the last class so I didn't know that part of the routine. He snapped and said that despite not knowing the routine, I should know how to do a bota foga from BRONZE (the lowest level... three years ago) and that WHATEVER I just did was definitely NOT anything resembling a SIMPLE bota foga. geez. So he kept getting on my case, and then this boy I really despise in class started ragging on me too, telling me where to put my feet and hands, talking to me in this voice that drips with condescension. He always does that, it drives me crazy and makes me dance even worse. So at one point, I began to lose it. My eyes started to tear up, my face began to contort- I didn't understand it.... here I was, a senior in college, and I was about to start crying because I couldn't properly cross my right foot in front of my left in SAMBA CLASS. I blinked it back in time, I nodded vigorously at all my professor was saying, I couldn't say anything because my voice was shaking. Everytime I thought about that mean boy the tears would rush back... one question was running through my head... why am I here?

Almost all the other people in that class are on the ballroom dance team... mostly on the tour team and/or competition team, the highest teams there are. I've never been on either team and I only half-heartedly tried out once sometime during sophomore year. Why? Because I'm not good, that's why. The only reason I'm taking the class at all is because I love dancing and I think it's fun, not because I want to get my toe pressed at exactly a 60-40 weight distribution. I already took all the classes lower than this... this is my natural progression. If he didn't want me there he should have failed me during silver latin last fall.

This class is not fun.

I couldn't understand it though... despite my misgivings about the class, it is nothing to start crying about. I felt like my emotions were completely out of my control. It was really embarrassing, I was very close to having to run out of the gym and spend the rest of the period in the bathroom, quietly crying to myself, sad probably mostly because I was frustrated at not being able to rein in my sadness and look presentable. Instead I turned away briefly ("Laura... are you even following me? You're the one who is having trouble with this") and put a half-smile on my face. Some nicer boys showed up towards the end which made me happier.

What is WRONG with me? Who the heck just starts crying during class for absolutely no reason? Am I projecting some other kind of life tragedy onto this ballroom class? Or am I just upset that no matter how hard I try, I just don't seem to be getting any better? Maybe I'll just drop the class. That would teach... somebody.

Mean People
I think you felt like crying because the teacher was being insulting and unkind. This is dancing for God's sake...designed for pleasure...
» Mummsie (67.172.149.217) on 2005-10-15 05:03:56

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