Another Day to Dance: Stopping to Be Thankful for My Legs

It had been one of those weeks. I was tired. It seemed like a sore throat from talking over kids whose lot in life appeared to be interrupting me, had become the norm. As I pulled myself out of bed that morning, I was able to muster up one positive thought to keep me going: It’s finally Friday!

Wrapped up in my robe, being careful to keep my feet on the bath mat and off of the floor that was cold as an ice rink at this time of morning, I attempted to stretch my neck. Even the hot shower had been unable to loosen up the kinks woven into my spine by the previous day’s classes and rehearsal. I brushed my wet hair as I texted a friend from my salsa dance class (in Spanish because I was supposed to be practicing).

“Thank God it’s Friday,” I wrote.

However, as I hopped in the car (skipping breakfast, as usual) and drove toward my first school, even that thought didn’t eliminate my overwhelming desire to go back home and catch a wink or two more…. Or perhaps a few hours more worth of winks.

I pulled up in front of the church where my first school held their classes a bit early so I stayed in my parked car long enough to take a breath. This class was hit or miss…. Sometimes the kids were great little listeners, but other times it seemed they decided that, in celebration of Friday, it was time to test my ability to control each and every one of my nerves all at the same time. The school I went to directly after was much the same way.

Yipee, I thought. I can’t wait.

I hauled my teaching supplies out of the back of my car’s trunk, muttering in annoyance as I balanced all of my things, trying to punch in the access code without dropping my load. I made it inside and up the stairs only to find that the room I used for teaching was occupied by a band of middle-schoolers.

I resisted the urge to exhale. The big kids were only present when they didn’t have anywhere to go due to an in-service or some other no school day at their own campus. They’d likely be in the room throughout my entire dance class, banging soccer balls against the walls, fighting over Legos, and crossing over into my side of the room which would draw the eyes of every one of my nine dancers away from me.  I heard one time that once you allow your mind to wander, it takes a full fifteen minutes to get it to return productively to the previous task. My class was only a half hour long and these were preschoolers….so you can do the math.

I started unloading my things, setting my portable speaker off to the side (hidden from any balls which were bound to come ricocheting in my direction soon enough), my plastic cones here, balance beam there….

“What are you doing?”

I continued to dig through my bag without looking up. If I told you how many times each week I hear this question, you probably wouldn’t believe me.

“I’m going to teach a dance class,” I said, absently, rummaging for my phone which had escaped from my grasp at some point during the last few minutes. I found it lodged between a stack of laminated fish pictures and a bag of pom poms.

I finally stood and turned, facing the child who had questioned me. I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw her. Her legs were gone from the hips down and one of her arms was partially gone as well. She sat on the floor, utilizing the stumps below where her hips would be to scoot along the floor. I watched her move with surprising swiftness over to the other side of the room, my throat having gone completely dry, my agenda and even annoyance at having to share the room momentarily forgotten. The ungratefulness with which I’d started the day came flooding back to me. How had I completely disregarded the chance to be thankful for all of the things I took for granted on a regular basis, none of which the young girl before me had?

I’d moved about on my own two legs all morning and after exercising this gift, I had the privilege of be dancing with my kids. And not only that, but I got paid for doing it. I got paid to do what I love and seamlessly utilize the blessing of movement.

The thought was sobering as I went on to collect my students from their classrooms. We arrived back in the dance room to the same chaos I’d seen upon arriving, but that didn’t bother me anymore. Not even the yelling of the middle schoolers which was already snagging my dancers’ attention made me cross.

As was usually the case on the days we shared this room, the older children danced in back of my students, following along with my lesson in a particularly loud and distracting fashion. The legless girl joined in with her peers and the truth of how thoroughly I’d ignored the simplest blessings sunk in further as I watched her trying every move I taught, even the ones that required the use of toes, ankles, and feet.

As I moved into the across the floor activity I had prepared, I asked myself, “When was the last time you thanked God that you have the opportunity and physical ability to get up each morning and dance?” The answer was, of course, that I couldn’t remember the last time I’d done that or even gave it a moment’s consideration.

The incident was quite the reality check. Each day that we are given is a new chance to get up and do what we love and appreciate all that we have. As it turned out, I had come to realize that legs weren’t even an absolute requirement for dancing. And yet, I was fortunate to have two that were in working order.

What sorts of things remind you of how blessed you are to have the capacity to do what makes your soul happy? There is never a better time to consider this than right now.

Looking for more teaching inspiration? Check out Teaching Ballet and Tap and A Few of the Most Underrated Dance Movies Around.