Call me fearless. Call me crazy.
I put tap shoes on nine of our four-year-old students. Eighteen tiny tap shoes. Thirty-six tiny taps. It’s not pitter-patter when you put aluminum under little feet. It’s more like emptying the contents of the silverware drawer into the garbage disposal. If you’re willing to pair childish enthusiasm with percussive footwear, you’d better prepare yourself for chaos. It took all of my energy and creativity and skill to conduct the twenty-five minute tap lesson.
I think it was the most enjoyable part of my day.