When G. told me she wanted to try a dance class when she was 6-years-old, I signed her up for one. My mother, who had earned her living for a number of years dancing, was thrilled that the dancing gene made its way to another generation. I was a dismal failure at ballet and only lasted through one dance recital before I begged not to do it again when I was little. During G.’s first year of dance classes, the studio owner suggested I join a family tap class. She assured me no previous dance experience was required and there were several other moms and dads taking the class with some kids. Since it meant I could get some exercise time in while my kids were already busy with their classes, I gave it a whirl. At the end of my first year, which was no more than combinations of ball-changes, flaps and shuffles, I somehow found myself faced with the prospect of performing in the recital. My own kids begged me to do it while my husband had a hearty laugh that lasted longer than I care to recall. I decided to do it even after catching wind of the hideous costume I would have to wear (lime green polka-dots – I kid you not!). And even though I knew I’d feel like an idiot getting up on stage to perform a beginner tap routine, G. was relieved to know I’d be with her every step of the way on the big recital day. She was nervous and didn’t want to get on stage with an audience watching her dance. I knew EXACTLY how she felt. So we made a deal. If she did it, I would too. G. handled her first performance like a pro while I was a nervous wreck. And truth be told, I hated every minute of it. But the next year I agreed to continue tap with an adult-only class and informed the teacher there was NO way I was going to be in the recital. It was just exercise for me and I was well-aware that I didn’t really have a talent for dance. Lighten up my teacher told me. You’ve got a good memory for the steps and your body will follow with practice. You played a musical instrument in a marching band for years, the rhythm of the tap steps will come. Yeah, right. But I stuck it out that second year and found that not only was it good exercise for my body, learning dance steps was good for my brain. It gave me a new appreciation for what it was like to be a kid again. Learning something new is not always easy. It’s a plain and simple truth adults have a tendency to forget. Learning requires you to pay attention to your teacher, practice a skill, accept criticism when your teacher tells you that you aren’t doing the skill correctly and then practice some more until you think there’s no way you’re ever going to figure it out. After my second year of tap, I could do a ball-change while swinging my arms in an alternating pattern with my feet. Oh, it takes most people with an iota of talent two or three tries to learn. For me it took about a year. Humbling? Oh yeah. But here I am, nearly six years later and still tap dancing with a bunch of great women (many of them have danced together for years and have grandchildren in the audience watching them). I still break out in a cold sweat when the teacher adds an arm movement to a tap step. But since I’m almost always in the back (an instance when I LOVE being tall), my constant screw-ups are not usually too obvious. And the, “What the (insert colorful expletives here) was I thinking when I agreed to do this” thoughts before every performance? Alive and well. But it boils down to my girls. They have benefited from my tap classes whether they have realized it or not. From those times I have been able to dig deep down and find that little extra bit of patience to help them through their schoolwork. Those moments when they tell me, “it’s just too hard!” Yup, I know what they mean. My tap group performing a number from “Happy Feet” recently.