You all know that I've been planning to teach Zumba for a while (I got certified on Friday—woohoo!), so I've been talking to other instructors for advice, information, and anything else they think I need. My friend Leslie has been especially helpful, so on Wednesday after class, I showed her a new salsa I'd been working on. She gave me a few ideas for how to make it better and then said, "It's great, you're teaching it tomorrow."
Now, let me tell you a little something about Leslie's nighttime classes: they usually have about 60 to 70 people in them, and they're completely crazy parties. That makes for an awesome class when you're in the class—and even when you get pulled up front to lead a song or two. But I had always imagined my first teaching experience to be with a bit of a smaller class, with people who weren't expecting quite so much of a wild atmosphere. So to say I was nervous would be a big understatement. What if I killed the party? What if my uber-shy seven-year-old self made an unfortunate reappearance? What if I completely forgot the choreography and froze in front of everybody? What if I passed out and died of embarrassment? The possibility of me making a very large fool of myself in front of people I really liked was rather huge.
I grew up performing, so I remembered the feeling of all that nervous energy turning into an incredible adrenaline rush at go time, but I hadn't been in that position for a very, very long time. There was no guarantee that my body would remember how to do that, but the thought that it might gave me a bit of hope. And then there was the idea that if I got through it—this Zumba baptism by fire, Leslie called it—unscathed, my confidence in my ability to teach a class would be pretty darn solid. So to make a long story shorter, I went to class Thursday, my song came on about halfway through, I went to the front, and then I felt the rush. I totally rocked it, and it was a-maz-ing!
Sometimes all you need to grow is a good kick in the pants from someone who has a lot more faith in you than you do.
1 comment:
That's our Katrina you still have it
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