I had only been a teacher for a few years when I was asked to teach an interest class during lunchtime. I agreed to teach aerobics, since I loved doing them, and why not? I was young, strong, and didn’t look half bad in an 80s leotard, complete with leg warmers and a sweat band in my hair. Think a brunette Olivia Newton John doing her song Let’s Get Physical, but with a Midwestern flare and an extra fifteen pounds.
It was all that beef, Iowa pork, butter, and dairy products. But I digress.
7th and 8th grade girls signed up for my elective. The class was held near the indoor pool. The girls had to change out of their dresses into exercise clothing, or they could keep on their pants and tops. I had a good turn-out, but the most popular girl, the one with the Farrah Fawcett hairdo that was stiff from all the hairspray, wasn’t getting it.
“I don’t understand. What do you mean, grapevine to the right?”
I stopped and explained the grapevine move. She had taken a long time changing and had missed the first round of instructions.
“I still don’t get it!” she complained.
The other girls had figured it out. Melissa wanted attention or something. In my own aerobics class, we just faked it until we made it. We didn’t stop the instructor to spend extra time with us while everyone else stood around and waited.
I added a second move.
“This is hard!” Melissa said. “I barely know the first move.”
Melissa was a straight A student. What was her complaining all about? Was she trying to make me angry or was this something she really couldn’t get?
I looked over to the glass wall that partitioned us from the overly-chlorinated pool. A bunch of boys were leering at us, mostly at me, I think. I was much more scantily dressed than usual, not in my teacher outfits.
I got my Boom box and started up the song, Another One Bites the Dust, by Queen. It was 1980-something. The class was almost over. I wanted to get through at least one song before the bell rang.
“Stop!” Melissa demanded. “I need you to show me the grapevine again.”
I didn’t stop. The rest of the girls and I did the routine (three whole moves repeating) until the song ended.
Melissa stormed out, angry that I didn’t bend to her every demand. Yes, she was popular. Yes, she had boys at her beck and call. But I didn’t want her ruining my class. I overrode her last demand and went with the majority of the girls who wanted to dance.
At the next session, I introduced another song, Walk Like an Egyptian (no, that was 1986) or Let’s Get Physical (1981)? I can’t remember. Anyway, most of us had fun, and the middle school boys got an eyeful, the closest thing to Olivia Newton John they would see on an Iowa afternoon in the winter of 1982 (?).
P.S. Today I was at a thrift store in my beach town when the Queen song came on. I told the cashier about my little memory flash, and she gave me a surprise 20% discount.
FIRST DATE, WORST DATE EVER! 