Everyone Gets to Play

A special moment at a recent presentation.

Throughout my journey as a tap dancer I’ve been sensitive to invisible lines. These are the lines that get drawn between people. They say, “You can’t pass.” They are especially evident in achievement oriented pursuits. “You can’t pass, because you didn’t win.”

Lines stink, especially for those who end up on the outside. I’ve found myself on the inside and the outside of these lines at different times and with different people.

In Tap Dance Land, it often seems like only the folks considered “worthy” gain access to the “secret information” held by the keepers of the tradition. Think, “Only the folks we dig, get what we know.” I understand the sentiment. I have experienced the favor and disfavor of the keepers. Favoritism is fickle.

As I have grown I have become more and more attracted to the idea that everyone should get to play. I have more fun when the individual skills, predispositions, and abilities of everyone in the community are honored. I have more fun when this happens without undermining what we’re aiming for, the actual form we are working with (in the case of tap dancing), or some other important aspect of how we are coming together.

This is possible.

The shift for me began when I realized that virtuosity is fleeting. Technical ability would only get me so far. I was never the most advanced tap dancer in the room growing up. Once I got my chops, I enjoyed the ability I had to impress people. Then I found that I had to keep up the chops to keep impressing people, and realized I wouldn’t be able to do that forever.

One day, the chops would go, and so too would be the relationship I had developed with my audience – the people I had impressed. That is, if the only thing attracting them to my dancing was my technical skill.

I didn’t want that, so I began to shift. I wanted the connection made between people – an invitation to bear witness together and share time – to be the most important thing for me. The skill and craft work could be the vehicle, but not the focus.

I got to experience this idea during a really special moment at a Tap Dance Land presentation. These presentations geared towards kids, include storytelling, demonstrations, and the opportunity to learn how to tap dance. At this particular presentation there were about 50 first graders. I shared a few stories of my teachers, demonstrated some tap dancing, and invited everyone to learn some, too!

During the presentation I noticed a deaf student in the front row. He had a dedicated interpreter. He participated in all of what was happening. He watched his interpreter intently as I shared stories. He got up with everyone else when invited to learn. As the presentation was coming to a close I thought there might be a way to bring this student closer to the experience of Tap Dance.

So, we did this:

I invited the student to place their hand on my little board. The moment I started dancing he looked up, wide-eyed and smiling. He continued to respond as I changed my dancing. With every new sound, he felt a different vibration. With every new rhythm, he felt a new sensation.

I will never forget the look on his face.

I could have kept this student on the outside. He would have had a good enough time experiencing my presentation through his interpreter. But this was something different. I was able to invite him into an experience of tap dance that he could relate to more specifically. Games aren’t just about everyone learning the same rules. They are about every individual learning how they relate best to the game being played.

On this day, this student got to play.