At BYU, I took about ten fun classes, including dance, sports, and art.
One of these was Jazz Dance.
This class intimidated the heck out of me. It was in a dance studio with a wood floor and impressive sound system. One wall was covered entirely in mirrors.
On top of that, the teacher was a member of the university dance team, called the Cougarettes.
Want to see why that was super cool and super terrifying? Check this out.
One of these was Jazz Dance.
This class intimidated the heck out of me. It was in a dance studio with a wood floor and impressive sound system. One wall was covered entirely in mirrors.
On top of that, the teacher was a member of the university dance team, called the Cougarettes.
Want to see why that was super cool and super terrifying? Check this out.
And here’s one of my favorite Cougarette hip hop routines.
It turned out to be a really fun class, though. The teacher took things slowly and I enjoyed the new challenges.
First we learned hip hop, then jazz, and then ended the semester with lyrical.
Everyone knows what hip hop is. You move with quick jerks and act way more confident than you actually are.
Lyrical is smooth, pretty movements that match soul-searching music. It’s like ballet, if ballet were to nix the hair bun and loosen up a little.
Then there’s jazz dance. From what I’ve seen, anything that doesn’t count as hip hop or lyrical you just throw in the jazz category.
Basically, anything goes.
The instructor taught us each routine in small increments. After a few weeks, we would know the entire dance which was usually about three minutes (but that’s kind of long if you’ve never officially danced before).
On test day, two students took the floor at a time and performed the dance for everyone else while the instructor determined a grade.
In the weeks leading up to each test, I would plop down after class and pull out my notebook to scribble down the routine, using arrows and notes to record the right steps.
Then in the evening, I went to the basement of our dorm and practiced. I acted all nonchalant if anyone trudged through to do laundry, then started dancing again once they left.
Let’s fast forward to the jazz routine.
The teacher told us to do whatever we wanted for the first eight beats, then each student would begin the outlined choreography.
While practicing, I never once thought about those first eight beats. I just figured, "Hey, I’ll do something. No big deal."
It was like any other professor telling you that there would be a freebie question at the beginning of the test, you know:
“Because I like you, I’m giving you this one for free. The answer is C.
A. Not this one.
B. Not this one.
C. Bingo!
D. You went too far.
Test day came.
All the students lined up against the mirrors. Everyone acted nervous, but I was actually excited. I’d practiced, I knew the steps, and the test would be a breeze.
The first two students stood and performed. I noticed that they each had an actual dance figured out for those eight miscellaneous beats.
I still didn’t worry about it, but then it was my turn.
I bounced up and took the right half of the room, while the other student testing stepped into the left half.
I looked at the faces of my classmates.
I saw myself in the mirror.
I heard the instructor ask, “Ready?”
And then I realized,
I HAD NO IDEA WHAT I WAS GOING TO DO FOR THE FIRST EIGHT BEATS!!!
She started the music and it was too late to plan.
So I did the first thing that came into my head.
I blew up my cheeks with air.
I widened my eyes.
And I ran around my half of the room, flapping my arms like a deranged chicken.
(Yeah. I really did.)
As I flapped, I noticed two things.
The other student had come up with some cute little robot dance.
And absolutely everyone else was laughing until they cried, watching me.
The eight beats ended as I ran back to the center of the room and began the outlined steps, right on cue.
Afterwards, people congratulated me on such an original and funny start to my dance, and I just smiled.
It was jazz dance, so you know, anything goes.
B. Not this one.
C. Bingo!
D. You went too far.
Test day came.
All the students lined up against the mirrors. Everyone acted nervous, but I was actually excited. I’d practiced, I knew the steps, and the test would be a breeze.
The first two students stood and performed. I noticed that they each had an actual dance figured out for those eight miscellaneous beats.
I still didn’t worry about it, but then it was my turn.
I bounced up and took the right half of the room, while the other student testing stepped into the left half.
I looked at the faces of my classmates.
I saw myself in the mirror.
I heard the instructor ask, “Ready?”
And then I realized,
I HAD NO IDEA WHAT I WAS GOING TO DO FOR THE FIRST EIGHT BEATS!!!
She started the music and it was too late to plan.
So I did the first thing that came into my head.
I blew up my cheeks with air.
I widened my eyes.
And I ran around my half of the room, flapping my arms like a deranged chicken.
(Yeah. I really did.)
As I flapped, I noticed two things.
The other student had come up with some cute little robot dance.
And absolutely everyone else was laughing until they cried, watching me.
The eight beats ended as I ran back to the center of the room and began the outlined steps, right on cue.
Afterwards, people congratulated me on such an original and funny start to my dance, and I just smiled.
It was jazz dance, so you know, anything goes.
-Jenna
