2/18/12 – Convocation
I’ve been taking dance classes for a little over six years now, and that’s produced some odd situations. As faculty I’m expected to show up for Convocation in the Fall, which is a formal party to start the new school year. We welcome new faculty, and a handful of students show up, and the other students are just glad some daytime classes cancelled. Last year the problem I had was my ballet class was right after Convocation. So I dressed in layers – tights and leotard, then slacks and a polo shirt, and finally my official academic robe over all that. As cruel fate would have it, last October was very warm, and Convocation is held in the Main building, which isn’t air conditioned. Uh oh. I usually don’t even wear two layers, much less two topped by heavy velvet.
So as we processed into the auditorium, I could tell this was going to be a toasty event. And Convocation dragged on for two plus hours. A small river started flowing down my spine. I struggled to keep from passing out, and pretend to be paying attention to the speakers. It finally droned to an end, quite a few minutes late, and me quietly panicking over how late I was going to be for class and how I’d have to sit and watch class instead of participating. I scurried across the street to the dance studio, tossed off my shoes, and padded into the studio still robed. That got some delicious double takes! I looked frantically to the instructor to see if I could still take class, and she invited me to join them. My heart leaped for joy.
I went into the locker room, draped my robe over a cleaning bucket, shed my formalwear, and grabbed my ballet shoes. I found a place at the barre, slipped on my shoes, and joined the class as though nothing unusual had happened. As class progressed, I felt a chill ripple through me, and realized only then that my dancewear was completely soaked with sweat. I was freezing from all the evaporation. But it didn’t matter. I was allowed to dance another day.