Taking the shoes off the shelf

This summer, I taught my first tap class in four years. In my previous life, I was a tap teacher for over two decades, but due to studios closing, the pandemic, and deciding that I needed to release a little pressure from the very busy scheduled life I had created for myself, I decided not to pursue another studio and put my tap shoes on the shelf. I figured that if it was meant to be, I’d eventually find myself in front of another tap classroom.

A few months ago, I had re-connected with Christina D’Adamo, a former student from the studio I taught at for 16 years.

She’s now a dance model (as evidenced by the gorgeous gallery above) and had been working at a local studio, just graduated from college, and this summer found herself the owner/operator/lead teacher of what is now the Christina D’Adamo Dance Academy. It’s primarily a competition dance studio, but also offers recreational classes for her students. Over the last couple of months, she had been asking if I was interested in teaching a tap class for her students since it is not on her regular schedule and she’s not a tap dancer.

As much as I absolutely love teaching tap dance, it had been four years since I had put a pair of tap shoes on. After that much time had passed, I wasn’t sure how sharp I would be either in the teaching or execution of the technique. I was afraid that I would be rusty, the sounds wouldn’t be clear or rhythmically correct, and that I might have lost the knack for the genre.

Despite the anxiety, I agreed to teach a trial master class. I didn’t know how much training her students had, and I figured that they’d have at most four or five years of any real training; I had over 30 years of training and teaching. I knew a few things – how bad could it be? If it turned out to be a bust, I’d put the shoes back on the shelf and move on.

CDDA’s main studio is beautiful. Lots of open space with a huge painting of a tree on one of the walls. It is also shared by a yoga studio, so it is a clean, serene environment. I arrived on that Friday morning with my tap sneakers and a game plan to introduce rhythm tap techniques from the American swing jazz era from the first half of the 20th century. As a teenager, I took a workshop with the great Henry LeTang where I was introduced to the shim sham. After college, I did a regional production of Anything Goes, choreographed by another great Louis Johnson. Both of these early experiences locked me into the syncopated cadence, the feeling of undulation that I came to love so much about tap dance; I would spend the next two decades exploring it in front of students.

Focus on the essentials

For me, that was not a problem, since I am very much used to teaching classes within which there are a variety of abilities. To be honest, I take it as a challenge; how do I get to the most fundamental, salient technique lessons that will benefit everyone? No matter how simple or complex the combination you present, the fundamentals remain the same:

• Stay over your center
• Stay light and loose
• Soften your knees (stay bouncy)
• Breathe
• Understand where your weight is supposed to be in any given moment of a step or combination

After that, it’s just the development of clarity, speed and strength to execute the more advanced stuff.

The kids were great students; they picked things up easily, and managed well through the challenges they faced. They absorbed all of the advice I had to offer, especially the idea that when you feel anxious, you need to exhale, relax your muscles, and let the steps happen. That was something that one of the girls, the 22-year-old, really appreciated. At the end of class, during a little debriefing where I asked the kids to reflect on what resonated with them the most in the class, she told me that after many years of dance, no teacher had ever told her that. I smiled, a little surprised, and thrilled that the very thing that allowed me to learn new things with limited anxiety was something useful for others.

Mission accomplished.

Back at home

I am not a stranger to the dance studio; I have been teaching many movement forms consistently for 30 years. The vocabulary gets ingrained in the brain; as soon as I put my tap sneakers on, I remembered everything, like I had never put them on the shelf. It felt familiar, like a warm hug. And when I stepped in front of the mirror, my heart beat just a little faster, not because of anxiety, but because I felt once again at home. We went through the basics: flaps, shuffles, paddle and rolls, time steps, and the shim sham combination that I’ve always loved to do.

I forgot how much I really missed tap dancing. The class sped by and before I knew it, the hour had passed. While I don’t think I’m ready to make a full commitment to a weekly class, I can see myself doing a monthly master class or taking on a private lesson for someone who wants to compete in tap. We’ll see where it goes. No matter what, I had a wonderful return to my tap shoes. I’m glad they finally came off the shelf.