SHUF-FLE STEP!

Before you mock a disaffected teen girl throughout a 75-minute class for appearing lazy, it’s probably not a bad idea to find out in advance that she is the kickboxing champion of Belgium.

The kid had showed up for class with her arm in a sling. When I employed my bad French mid-class to inquire what had happened and how bad was the pain, the only thing I could understand was that she wasn’t in grave distress. She and the other kid stayed on the margins–horrified at the adults getting increasingly goofy and joyful–and kicking their soundless street shoes listlessly front and back. They could not have been more, well, teenager-ish, and I made a variety of jokes and comments in their direction in a failed effort to motivate them. I even had the whole class cracking up about the arm injury resulting from practicing the hop-steps in the break of the Shim Sham. (Only after class did I learn about the whole kickboxing champion thing…)

The lovely Ourthe River in Aywaille. I was lucky not to end up floating there after mocking a kickboxing champion teenage girl in tap class.

The kid, who most graciously did not run at me and sever my head from my body, must have really thought I was stupid with the bad Karate kicks I popped randomly throughout the class. My new beginner’s class in the local village of Aywaille (just say, ‘Hawaii’, and leave it at that) follows the local Karate club session, and this Monday followed the annual national meeting of all the Karate clubs in Wallonia. So excuse me for being distracted, but the sight of 50 grunting, sweating, punching machines of all ages was still with me as I faced my 12 beginners learning shuf-fle step.

A super-nice couple has organized the class–they run a theatre program in Aywaille, and have been hoping for a tap class forever. They both take the class, along with some actors and musicians, and random people who were just looking to try something fun. When we met in the summer to organize the class, and I saw the massive gym, my only real concern was sound. So they went out and bought the same fabulous Yamaha portable sound system that I use in my ‘home classes’ in Liege. I have been fortunate to have support from incredible friends and colleagues through the years, but let the record state: no one until now has gone out and purchased a sound system on my behalf.

In the last three weeks, I have taught more shuf-fle steps than in any month of my life. In Liege my program has doubled to two nights of classes, and somewhere around 15 beginners have come though in the last three weeks.

Sister-in-law, graphic designer, American exchange student, tech professional, high school musician, and more: new beginners in the right place at the right time!

My Advanced Beginners, a hilarious and slow-to-progress group of adults mostly in their late-50’s and older, began last spring, and don’t really deserve the term ‘advanced’; but they have learned some things, and I needed to distinguish them from the ‘beginners’. They freak out when a new step or exercise comes, they moan audibly, they whine: I whip them verbally now with the label ‘debutants AVANCES’, and they laugh. Anyway, they are working on shuf-fle-step-heel, so they are exactly one sound of the foot beyond true beginners, and suffering.

Last winter’s beginners have returned in full force, flapping their way into ‘debutants avancés’!

I also floated out an ‘all levels’ class—my little nod to the Henry Letang method of teaching all people different routines at the same time—and in that class I have one woman, super-motivated and hard-working, who started last March. She also takes class with the advanced beginners, and some private lessons, and at 62, Jacqueline has really earned my respect. Over the summer she learned a good chunk of material from one of my DVDs, has developed a vocabulary, knows her time steps, practices at home every day: she is a gamer, and an exceptional example of how great it can be to begin tap dance in your 60’s. (Back in Boston, dear Joan still plugs away: she opened my eyes a few years ago to what a retired woman with ambition and smarts could do in a pair of tap shoes, and now Jacqueline keeps me honest).

Have I mentioned the new guy, age 65, American, plays the harmonica, and has lived in Liege for more than 40 years? He immediately bought a bamboo mat for home practice, came to four classes in the first two weeks, always has his axe in his pocket and has already tapped and played at the same time. Or the super 22 year old university student/dancer/musician who showed up and learned shuffles, flaps, and half the shim-sham in 35 minutes last night? The absolute joy of tap dance at the beginning: that is easy to lose touch with after 30-plus years of dance, and such a privilege to light the spark, and watch the flame begin to burn.

Our teen program in Liege has begun with two sweet, charming 12 year-old girls. To their credit, they do not seem overly horrified by the bad-French speaking guy who teaches them tap; like all beginners there are quietly realizing that the thing about tap dance is it looks so easy, but it’s so hard. Neither kid is particularly musical, so getting a groove going has happened twice, for about a minute; mostly they fall in and out of steps, and time, and giggle. But as I am putting down long-term roots here, I am determined to bring them along, and so we shuf-fle step.

Toeing and heeling with two teens: room for growth!

Between three adult beginners classes, one class of teens, an advanced beginners class, and a private lesson with an ‘more advanced beginner,’ my shuf-fle step has probably never been better. Having started each group with the shim sham (first version: SHUF-FLE STEP), I have learned that to the Francophones whenever I say ‘shim sham’, they hear Chim Chim, begin singing ‘Chim Chim Cheree’ and thinking of Mary Poppins. ALL OF THEM THINK MARY POPPINS. So by the fifth time I explained that the step was from the shim sham, I added, and nothing to do with the movie, or chim-chim cheree, although it sounds like that…

My intermediate group at the end of Friday night is like therapy: they can flap! They know cramp rolls! They can put three steps together in a sequence! That class, fun as it is, is also a mixed bag; four ‘old-timers’ some of whom have been dancing since the 1970’s, a pair of 30-somethings, and right now for two months only a young, refreshing, 24-year old–working temporarily nearby–who could not be more delighted by the nutty ‘claquettistes’ who come out at 8pm to get their tap on. Stephanie joins in, when she can, and you can really see the advantages of her having studied with more than 20 teachers in her first five years of tap. Not to mention her lifetime in music.

The intermediates began with a revolt, they were all pissed that I had raised prices and didn’t like the way we structured the payments. So we went home, invented a new system, lowered their class price, and the second week was like a love-in. Although I have been in the business quite a long time– making my living teaching tap for more than 25 years–having my own classes and business structure for weekly lessons in my own (rented) space is a new venture. We blew it, we changed it, everyone is happy.

And now we are jumping off a cliff: this week we said YES to buying a building just a few meters outside of Liege, in the neighboring town of Herstal. Butt-ugly and nearly hidden from view, it has a number of features that bode well for the future of tap dance in Liege: four thick concrete and brick walls that don’t touch any neighbors, enough square-footage to allow for a spacious dance floor and simple entrance with bathroom, changing room, and coffee bar, and a location just thirty seconds walk from the end of Liege’s main bus line—and future tram–easy to access from the main train station. An electric tram in Liege, which will eventually connect 20 kilometers of people to the studio’s front door, is something like the Big Dig was in Boston, and it is only this American who believes it will ever actually get finished.

And so we shuf-fle step, building skills, community, enthusiasm, spirit, and momentum, and hoping that the future of tap dance here in Liege is as bright as a shim sham sheree…