[ WP ] You live in the world of a musical , where practically any event is punctuated with a sing and dance number . You 're tone deaf and dance like you have two left feet .

Shame. That was the word I associated school with ever since I could remember. My earliest memory was being made to perform a dance in Kindergarten for a classmate ’ s birthday. Maybe it would not have been so bad if I had danced alone, but we always danced together in a big musical number. 
 
 Mine was the lone clap between claps. When the kids twirled, I stumbled. When they jumped and soared, I flung myself around like a ragdoll. Before we were even halfway through the dance, they doubled up in laughter, pointing at me. At first I was stunned, but then I got very embarrassed and ashamed, like I had been caught with my pants down. 
 
 Trying to hide, I pushed past the birthday boy, who fell down and hit his head on a table. Ms Swann caught my arm and sent me to detention where I was made me do 100 pirouettes. The frantic way I did them made me dizzy, nauseated and sad. By the time I was done, I fell on the floor, puked and cried at the same time. 
 
 When my dad came to pick me up, I did n't tell him about what had happened. Would he disown me if he knew how flawed I was? How ashamed would he be, if he knew that his son could n't do something that everyone else could? That night, I skipped dinner and went to bed early that night. 
 
 The next day, the birthday boy's seat was empty. Apparently, the parents didn ’ t want their child to be in the same class as me. Rumours started that if people were around me too long, they too, would lose their ability to dance and sing. Day after day, one by one, my classmates started avoiding me, until there was no one left. 
 
 Ms Swann continued trying to teach me the classic dances, even spending extra hours with me in the afternoons and evenings. “ Dancing is important in our culture. Without dance, how will you court your partner? How will you express your gratitude to your friends, your family? ” She said, her hands tracing invisible patterns in the air gracefully, effortlessly. Her pink chiffon scarf wafted in the air gently along with her rhythmic movements. 
 
 The tango, the flamenco, I stumbled through them all. I kept waiting for her to give up, so I could wallow in shame by myself, but she never did. 
 
 When I turned 16, and I had to choose a high school, I chose one on the other side of town, away from Ms Swann, away from anyone who knew me. I took it as a chance to start anew. 
 
 On my very first dance class at Dancing High, I announced, “ dancing is so passe. It ’ s lame. I want to take up sports instead! ” Prof Clef ’ s eyes bugged out. 
 
 “ Detention for you, Rolf! See you this afternoon! ” Prof Clef said, flicking his long silvery fringe and snapping his fingers. “ This is why I dislike transfer students! ” He mumbled audibly, within earshot. 
 
 The next day and the day after that, Prof Clef and I danced the figurative tango, always with me ending up in detention. After many days with no change in outcome, Prof Clef finally gave up but kept me in class. 
 
 “ If I can ’ t move you, maybe Lady Chenoweth will move your soul. ” He said. His efforts were in vain - I remained as still as a rock, and my classmates kept their distance from me. I didn ’ t mind. At least they were scared of me. I preferred that to pity. It seemed that nothing would ever move me to dance. 
 
 Then one fine autumn day, as golden and red leaves were sailing through the air, he danced into my life. 
 
 ( To be continued )
