Rhythm... I Still Don't Have It (and I Still Can't Spell it... No, Really, I Had to Look it Up)

Each Monday night I have to confront a particular demon of mine: music class. On Mondays I volunteer at a shelter and play with the kids who are living there. When I signed up nearly two years ago, the woman said "Oh great, you'll be here for music night!" She explained that on Mondays a music teacher comes in to teach the kids rhythm games and lead sing-alongs. The volunteers are expected to participate fully. After all, what child wants a mute adult looming over their rhythm circle. My heart stopped. My mind flashed back to all those Mon/Wed/Fri in elementary school when our class would traipse down to the music room for exactly this type of thing. I was horrible in music class. Its only value to me was that it was immediately before gym, a class where I was far more sure of my abilities. I could toss a dodge ball, no problem. Run a mile? Sign me up! But put me in a circle and ask me to keep a beat while passing plastic cups left and right, dear god. Something shattered inside--my self-confidence.

Anyways. Apparently that fear never goes away. I'm 28 now, and still the sight of a circle of small children clapping their hands and looking expectantly at me to clap my hands in the same way, is frightening. Oh, I laugh my clumsiness off, but my palms still sweat.

What's worse, the other volunteers on music night don't seem to have the same problem I have. So while those 20-somethings and 30-somethings are clapping right along, even tossing in a variation of their own in between beats, I methodically count the rhythm in my head, trying not to move my lips from my isn't-this-fun smile.

But actually, it is fun. Ridiculously fun. Because, while I still perform abominably in music class, I know I'm not being graded for my performance. Even better, neither are these kids. So I can act silly and make faces at them and tell them how much better they are than me and sing off-key the bizarre lyrics we ask children to sing in such classes. It doesn't matter one bit if I have rhythm. It only matters that we forget where we are, and that's easy to do when you're dancing while singing, at the top of your lungs, a song like this:

Grandma, grandma, sick in bed,
Went to the doctor and the doctor said,
Grandma, grandma, you ain't sick,
All you need is a peppermint stick!

Hands up, shake, shake, shake, shake,
Hands down, shake, shake, shake, shake,
Turn around, shake, shake, shake, shake,
Get out of town, shake, shake, shake, shake
(Repeat)