By: Lauren Lisitano- Managing Editor
Media Credit: MCT Campus
I had to ask my friend what to wear to the jazz class. He is a dancer, and I’m well… not. Maybe you could have called me that when I was 4 years old and my parents shipped me off to tap class, but not now? I am what I am, as my 19-year-old, uncoordinated self.
I walked down the stairs to the Rodger’s dance studio, curious as to who the teacher would be, wondering if I should have brought a water bottle, and hoping I would not embarrass myself too much. My friend was already there (and already laughing at the thought of me dancing). The two student teachers were rehearsing some combination of dance moves, at 6:28 p.m. and no one else was there.
A devilish smile crossed my face when the teachers said they might cancel. I heard faint cackling and knew right then that there was no way the class was getting called off. Three girls marched down the stairs in full dance gear- which is apparently black spandex bottoms and any t-shirt you have lying around- ready to dance. My grin was quickly erased. And I was forced to dance.
The dance classes, taught by SRU Dance club E-Board members, take place every week at the dance studio in the Rodger’s Recreation Center basement. With a wall full of mirrors, beige walls, and fluorescent lighting, the dance studio looks more like a workout studio, and is hidden between the gym and the athletic offices.
Each dance class features a different type of dance. The class I decided to take was a jazz class. Jazz is basically a high energy ballet, from what I observed. Some moves were more emotional, using soft arm movements and slower music. This is apparently called lyric.
I thought jazz was happy-go-lucky and lively, but that night I learned that it sometimes takes on a different, lyrical emotion, depending on the music.
As I began the jazz class, I followed the teacher’s instructions, stretching my neck side to side, rolling my shoulders forward and back, taking a deep breath, and placing my elbows on my knees to prepare for squats. I thought, ‘Hey maybe I can do all this. Maybe dancing is for me after all.’
Working progressively down the body, from abs to gluts to hamstrings to calves to Achilles’ tendon – every muscle was warmed up and ready to be used.
Then, it was time for “across the floor”. The two teachers whipped together a combination filled with pirouettes and pas de bourrées and other dance terms I could not pronounce. I closely observed and tried to mimic their body movements, watching as they lifted their arms, dipped their heads, and ran their bare feet across the floor. The rest of the class asked questions about the moves and about how they could incorporate this into their own choreography.
‘So… Wait…’ I thought. ‘The people taking the class with me are also choreographers?…So, that means…This isn’t an instructional, how-to dance class-it’s a class for experienced dancers!… GREAT!’
No wonder I look like an awkward body thrown into a room of expert dancers…because that’s exactly what I was!
“Make it your own,” the teachers kept saying. They urged everyone to channel their inner goddess and “look through your brows”. I guess that’s another way to say “make your body look animalistic.” It’s all through your facial expressions or the way you add a body roll or a hair whip to a movement.
I could barely follow the first three counts, never mind spin the routine into my own. The teacher was yelling off “1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8”, counting the seconds to help dancers follow the order of each movement because each move corresponds to a different number. I was thrown off by the yelling of numbers, but I still attempted to finish one full twist of a pirouette, even if it was a little wobbly.
After we worked on more across the floor routines, “Slow Dancing in a Burning Room” by John Mayer started echoing through the dance studio speaker system, with its words of longing for someone but knowing it will only end in heartbreak.
One teacher began to teach a lyrical jazz dance to us. Since the song is much slower compared to the upbeat songs we had practiced thus far, everything was in slow motion and all the energetic moves we learned earlier needed to be toned down. The teachers still wanted everyone to make it their own, but this time in a different way.
I was surprisingly able to follow the first moves, and I was one with the other dancers. I controlled my body and taught it what to do to every number. Of course, that is until it got to the battement, shoulder turn, butt roll part- but regardless I actually picked up most of the choreography.
This dance had no eight count. Instead you had to feel the music and the moves and how they flowed together. This is how I viewed dance before taking the jazz class. Every time I watch So You Think You Can Dance or go to the SRU Dance show to see my friend perform, I’m not sitting there counting off one through eight or making sure they are hitting every move on the right number. Instead, I am listening and watching the dance as it moves to the music.
Maybe my parents had been on the right track after all when they signed me up for dancing when I was in kindergarten.
