A few weeks ago I published an article about how I miss tap-dancing, but it wasn’t always like that. I used to hate tap with a die-hard passion; I hated it more than a picky eater hates Brussel sprouts. Me and tap-dancing didn’t mix when I was a wee young lass, and I truly did not start to like it until I was well into my middle-school years.

For my Creative Writing class, I recently wrote a memoir about my struggles with tap and how I eventually overcame my fears and disdain for the art I love now. Here are some of my favorite excerpts that fully demonstrate my love-hate relationship with my tap shoes.

First is the moment I really started to dislike tap. I don’t really remember completely loathing tap until after this day my second year of dance. This moment, plus a couple of other times I got injured from the tap shoes of others, really had me in a funk when it came to tap dancing.

“A few weeks into my dance lessons, I got hit in the head with a tap shoe. Little me walked into the tiniest studio in the building excited for the hour I was going to spend perfecting my “tendu” in ballet and even working on my “shuffle-stomps.” While I was daydreaming about how perfect my “saute” was going to be when Miss Stacey was watching, I did not notice the dance-dad carrying out his protesting, exhausted, tutu-wearing daughter on his hip from her just completed tap-class. This spoiled-brat did not want to leave the room of echoey floors, walls of mirrors, and mountains of toy-props, and this was evident from her tap-shoe covered legs flailing about as if they were being attacked by some invisible dog. One of these legs decided to hit me smack dab in the middle of my forehead, and I stifled my agony as I slowly made my way to sit for circle time. I wasn’t going to show that I was upset at these inanimate objects; dancers aren’t allowed to show that they are in pain.”

Next is the moment that really defined my tap dancing career: the moment where I was introduced to the most terrifying dance teacher I have ever had. I credit her for giving me the gumption and stubbornness I have today, but I probably gained a few gray hairs with the year or so I spent under her instruction.

“My feelings about tap-dancing stayed static until about 5^th grade, a time in which they reached an all-time low. At this point in my dance career, I have been a competitive dancer for one year. I loved new my dance teacher, Laura, and I had really enjoyed learning and competing our dance themed to Elvis Presley’s “Jailhouse Rock,” Unfortunately, Laura left our studio that year and was replaced by a tap teacher named Jessie. Jessie was something else; that’s all I can say. Surprisingly, I enjoyed her at first. I was never one of those Maddie Ziegler (that crazy amazing girl from Dance Moms) like girls who showed off how high I could kick anytime someone was watching, so I always ended up in the back-left corner of every formation. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my little corner home as much as the next awkwardly horrible dancer, but I always wanted the chance to dance on the front lines, where people could actually see me without looking too hard. Jessie seemed to be able to read my mind, and she finally let me accomplish my hopes and dreams and let me dance in the front row for a dance entitled “Istanbul” (which was to that one song by These Lonely Giants that always gets stuck in people’s heads). I loved Jessie for this. To be honest, I really hated this dance; it was really bad choreography with the most hideous red and black pinstripe suit and fedora costumes. However, the fact that I finally got the chance to show what I could truly do had me elated.”

The last moment I have picked to share with you all is a happy one. I was introduced to probably one of the greatest tap teachers on the planet my 7th-grade year, and she transformed tap dancing into the outlet that it is for me today,

“Everything with Katie seemed like a vacation. When she gave us corrections, she didn’t scream at us and berate us, but she instead cracked silly jokes and made the class seem fun. For example, instead of telling me that my arms were crappy, she told me that they looked like the arms of Tyrannosaurus Rex. I did not want to look like a dinosaur, so I fixed them. It was as simple as that. When we weren’t up to par with our performance skills right before competition, she promised us a “cheese party” filled with all of the cheesy snacks you could imagine if we had the “cheesiest” facials during our first competition performance of the year. All of us 7^th graders were enticed by the promise of free, cheddar-filled snacks, so we performed with facials so big that our cheeks hurt afterward. Katie kept her promise, and we received a smorgasbord of cheese puffs, Cheez-its, cheese, goldfish, and many other cheddar snacks. Katie made all of the hard work we did not seem as challenging as it was, and she just made things fun. Her zany personality always made everything about life just seem better. Whether I was struggling with a step or struggling with school, Katie always was able to make life good again. This is the kind of person a self-conscious dancer needs in his or her life.”

I hope you enjoyed this little snippet of reflection and terrible humor. While these moments seemed so terrible when I was younger, now I realize that I was really just an overly-emotional little girl who probably just needed a nap.