Last night marked another watershed moment in my vow to live out loud. I was monitored by Quality Control as I taught a Jazzercise class.
It was my first review since getting certified in May. All week I was sweating it — double-checking my set, getting up even earlier to practice the routines, hoping I engage the customers, that I had crossed the right toes and had all my jabs in place.
The band geeks reading this will relate to the nightmares I had about years ago when I went for clarinet adjudications — knee-knocking, harrowing experiences that involved performing a work practiced for months (sorry Mom and Dad) for a panel of judges, then sight-reading a piece of music for their benefit. The marks were nearly always the same: “great technical ability, needs to work on tone.”
I knew my knees couldn’t knock on stage — unless, of course, the choreography said so — so I consoled myself with the notion that at least there’s no sight-reading in Jazzercise.
Frankly it didn’t help that this is one of the more stressful weeks I’ve coped with lately — a project at work, some (not serious) medical things to address, the minutia of school-year life now at full throttle. And then just for fun: my email was hacked and one of our toilets broke. You can’t make this stuff up, but there was nothing to do but forge ahead.
As with so many things lately, it wound up being an amazing learning experience. I PASSED! I have work to do in terms of my technique and queuing, but the customers like me and I motivate them. I gave a good class. The QC was kind and generous with her time and comments. She told me I was going to be a terrific instructor, that I was fabulous.
She used that word: Fabulous. No one’s ever told me that before.
It made my whole week — and reinforced my desire to get those details right so I can pay her kindness forward.
Talking with some instructors lately, one of them noted that some of us light up and become whole other people when we take the stage.
I think I’m finding myself there.