So. When the teacher shows up early and says, “I thought this class started at 9:15,” and the participants say, “Nope, 9:20,” what should happen next?
Should the teacher start early while people are still coming into the class? Doesn’t that imply that her schedule is of paramount importance and the rest of us don’t matter? I understand that she got confused. But when she was reminded of the correct time, should she have shrugged it off and started when she wanted to?
As you may have already figured out, I was not five minutes early yesterday. So when I walked in, the class was already in progress.
You’re thinking, “So what? Suck it up and deal. Find a spot in the back and get with the program.”
Except that in this particular class, the door is located at the front of the room, directly behind where the instructor stands. So there’s no slipping in surreptitiously and blending in. And no chance to whisper “WTF” to the person next to you, not with any hope of getting an answer.
And since I’m ranting, what the HELL was that move with the elbows? There was no verbal explanation, so I don’t even know what part of my body I was supposed to be working. Maybe toned armpits are all the rage these days. Spin around, flap your elbows up and down like a deranged chicken, then wiggle your hips while circling one arm around like a menopausal stripper. Then spin to the other side and repeat. Back and forth, flap, flap, wiggle. Back and forth, flap, flap, wiggle.
Of course, maybe I’m not being objective about this particular class. You see, my long-standing fear finally came true in a violent fashion. In mid-chasse, I discovered that my feet were moving in one direction while my body was moving in another. Your head and your feet can only get just so far apart before the middle decides to head for the floor in the fastest way possible. So, mid-song, I crashed to the floor, earning a rug burn on my palm, tangled feet and total humiliation.
The instructor didn’t stop, but did ask–through her microphone–if I was ok. I said yes. I gathered my wits, never an easy task, and stood back up. I did some marching in place for a few beats to catch the rhythm (and my breath), then jumped back into the routine. I’m pleased to report that nobody in class laughed at me, or even snickered loud enough to be heard over the music.
Much to my own amazement, I didn’t die of embarrassment on the spot.
Who knows what I can accomplish next?