Gotta Dance By Jackson Jodie Daviss 1. Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned it to anyone, Before I knew it, it was all through the family, and they’d all made it their business to challenge me. I wouldn’t tell them my plans, other than to say I was leaving, but that was enough to set them off. Uncle Mike called from Oregon to say, “Katie, don’t do it,” and I wouldn’t have hung up on him except that he added, “Haven’t you caused enough disappoint- -ment?” That did it. Nine people had already told me no, and Uncle Mike lit the fire under me when he made it ten. Nine-eight-seven-six- five-four-three-two-one. Kaboom. 2. On my way to the bus station, I stopped by the old house. I still had my key and I knew no one was home. After ducking my head into each room, including my old one, just to be sure I was alone, I went into my brother’s room and set my duffel bag and myself on his bed. 3. The blinds were shut so the room was dim, but I looked around at all the things I knew by heart and welcomed the softening effect of the low light. I sat there a very long time in the silence until I began to think I might never rise from that bed or come out of that gray light, so I pushed myself to my feet. I eased off my sneakers and pushed the rug aside so I could have some polished floor, then I pulled the door shut. 4. Anyone passing in the hall outside might’ve heard a soft sound, a gentle sweeping sound, maybe a creak of the floor but not much more as I danced a very soft shoe* in my stocking feet. Arms outstretched but loose and swaying, head laid back and to one side, like falling asleep, eyes very nearly closed in that room like twilight, I danced to the beat of my heart. 5. After a while, I straightened the rug, opened the blinds to the bright day and walked out of what was now just another room without him in it. He was the only one I said good-bye to, and the only one I asked to come with me, if he could. 6. At the bus station, I asked the guy for a ticket to the nearest city of some size. Most of them are far apart in the Midwest and I liked the idea of those log rides with time to think. I like buses—the long-haul (*gotta dance: slang expression for “I have got to dance,” “I must dance”) kind, anyway-because they’re so public that they’re private. I also like the pace, easing you out of one pace before easing you into the next, no big jolts to your system. 7. My bus had very few people in it and the long ride was uneventful, except when the little boy threw his hat out the window. The mother got upset, but the kid was happy. He clearly hated that hat; I’d seen him come close to launching it twice before he finally let fly. The thing sailed in a beautiful arc, then settled on a fence post, a ringer, just the may you never can do it when you try. The woman asked the driver if he’d mind going back for the hat. He said he’d mind. So the woman stayed upset and the kid stayed happy. I liked her well enough, but the boy was maybe the most annoying kid I’ve come a cross, so I didn’t offer him the money to buy a hat he and his mother could agree on. Money would have been no problem. Money has never been my problem. 8. There are some who say money is precisely my problem, in that I give it so little thought. I don’t own much. I lose things all the time. I’m told I dress lousy. I’m told, too, that I have no appreciation of money because I’ve never had to do without it. That may be true. But even if it is, it’s not all there is to say about a person. 9. There is one thing I do well, and money didn’t buy it, couldn’t have bought it for me. I am one fine dancer. I can dance like nobody you’ve ever seen. Heck, I can dance like everybody you’ve ever seen. I didn’t take lessons, not the usual kind, because I’m a natural, but I’ve worn out a few sets of tapes and a VCR. I’d watch Gene Kelly and practice until I had his steps. Watch Fred Astaire, practice, get his steps. I prac- tice all the time. Bill Robinson. Eleanor Powell. Donald O’Connor. (*a soft shoe: tap dance steps but without taps (metal caps) on the shoes; a silent dance) Ginger Rogers. You know, movie dancers. I’m a movie dancer. I don’t dance in the movies though. Never have. Who does, anymore? I dance where and when I can. 10. My many and vocal relatives don’t think much, have never thought much, of my dancing-largely, I believe, because they are not dancers themselves. To be honest, they don’t think much of anything I do, not since I left the path they’d see for me, and that’s been most of my twenty-three years. These people, critical of achievement they don’t understand, without praise for talents and dreams or the elegant risk, are terrified of being left behind but haven’t the grace to come along in spirit. 11. Mutts and I talked a lot about that. He was a family exception, as I am, and he thought whatever I did was more than fine. He was my brother, and I backed everything he did, too. He played blues harmon- ica. He told bad jokes. We did have plans. His name was Ronald, but everyone’s called him Mutts since he was a baby. No one remembers why. He never got his chance to fly, and I figure if I don’t do this now, I maybe never will. I need to do it for both of us. 12. The bus depot was crowded and crummy, like most city depots seem to be. I stored my bag in a locker, bought a paper and headed for where the bright lights would be. I carried my tap shoes and tape player. 13. When I reached the area I wanted it was still early, so I looked for a place to wait. I found a clean diner, with a big front window where I could read the paper and watch for the lines to form. I told the wait- ress I wanted a large cup of coffee before ordering. After half an hour or so, she brought another refill and asked if I was ready. She was kind and patient and I wondered what she was doing in the job. It seems like nothing takes it out of you like waitress work. She was young; maybe that was it. I asked her what was good and she recom- mended the baked chicken special, and said it was what she had on her break. That’s what I had, and she was right, but I only picked at it, I wanted something for energy, but I didn’t want to court a side- ache, so the only thing I really ate was the salad. She brought an extra dinner roll and stayed as pleasant the whole time I was there, which was the better part of two hours, so I put down a good tip when I left. 14. While I was in the diner, a truly gaunt* young man came in. He ordered only soup, but he ate it like he’d been hungry a long time. He asked politely for extra crackers and the waitress gave them to him. When he left he was full of baked chicken special with an extra dinner roll. He wouldn’t take a loan. Pride, maybe, or maybe he didn’t believe I could spare it, and I didn’t want to be sitting in a public place pushing the idea that I had plenty of money. Maybe I don’t know the value of money but I do know what discretion is worth. The guy was reluctant even to take the chicken dinner, but I convinced him that if he didn’t eat it, nobody would, He reminded me of Mutts, except that Mutts had never been hungry like that. (*gaunt: very thin) 15. When the lines were forming, I started on over. While I waited, I watched the people. There were some kids on the street, dressed a lot like me in my worn jeans, faded turtleneck, and jersey warm-up jacket. They were working the crowd like their hopes amounted to spare change. The theater patrons waiting in line were dressed to the nines,* as they say. There is something that makes the well-dressed not look at the shabby. Maybe it’s guilt. Maybe it’s embarrassment because, relatively, they’re overdressed. I don’t know. I do know it makes it easy to study them in detail. Probably makes them easy marks* for pickpockets, too. The smell of them was rich: warm wool, sweet spice and alcohol, peppermint and shoe polish. I thought I saw Mutts at the other edge of the crowd, just for a moment, but I remem- bered he couldn’t be. 16. I was wearing my sneakers, carrying my taps. They’re slicker* black shoes that answer me back. They’re among the few things I’ve bought for myself and I keep them shiny. I sat on the curb and changed my shoes. I tied the sncakers together and draped them over my shoulder. 17. I turned on my tape player and the first of my favorite show tunes began as I got to my feet. I waited a few beats but no one paid atten- tion until I started to dance. My first taps rang off the concrete clear and clean, measured, a telegraphed message: Takka-takka-takka-tak! Takka-takka- takka -tak! Takka-takka-takka-tak-tak-tak! I paused; Everyone turned. 18. I taped an oh-so-easy, wait-a-minute time-step while I lifted the sneakers from around my neck. I gripped the laces in my right hand and gave the shoes a couple of overhead, bola-style swings, tossing them to land beside the tape player, neat as you please. I didn’t miss a beat. The audience liked it. I knew they would. Then I let the rhythm take me and I started to fly. Everything came together. I had no weight, no worries, just the sweet, solid beat. Feets, do you stuff.* 19. Didn’t I dance. And wasn’t I smooth. Quick taps and slow-rolling, jazz it, swing it, on the beat, off the beat, out of one tune right into the next and the next and I never took one break. It was a chill of a night, but didn’t I sweat, didn’t that jacket just have to come off. Didn’t I feel the solid jar to the backbone from the heavy heel steps, and the pump of my heart on the beat on the beat. 20. Time passed. I danced. A sandy-haired man came out of the theater. He looked confused. He said, “Ladies and Gentlemen, curtain in five minutes.” I’m sure that’s what he said. Didn’t I dance and didn’t they all stay. The sandy-haired man, he was tall and slim and he looked like a dancer. Didn’t he stay, too. 21. Every move I knew, I made, every step I learned, I took, until the tape had run out, until they set my rhythm with the clap of their hands, until the sweet sound of the overture drifted out, until I knew for certain they had held the curtain for want of an audience. Then I did my knock-down, drag-out, could-you-just-die, great big Broadway-baby finish. 22. Didn’t they applaud, oh honey, didn’t they yell, and didn’t they throw money. I dug coins from my own pockets and dropped them, too, leaving it all for the street kids. Wasn’t the slender man with the sandy hair saying, “See me after the show”? I ‘m almost sure that’s what he said as I gripped my tape recorder, grabbed my sneakers, my jacket, and ran away, ran with a plan and a purpose, father with each step from my beginnings and into the world, truly heading home. 23. The blood that drummed in my ears set the rhythm as I ran, ran easy, taps ringing off the pavement, on the beat, on the beat, on the beat. Everything was pounding, but I had to make the next bus, that I knew, catch that bus and get on to the next town, and the next, and the next, and the next. Funeral tomorrow, but Mutts will not be there, no, and neither will I. I’m on tour. (*dressed to the nines: dressed in expensive clothes) (*easy mark: an easy victim) (*slicker: patent leather shiny and smooth) (*Feets, do your stuff”: “Feet, start dancing”) ................................ A.Introducing the topic Discuss these questions with a partner. Then read the story. Did you ever have a compulsion, something you felt you had to do, no matter what the obstacles or consequences? Did you act on your feelings? Were you glad you did? B.Reading for Main Ideas “Gotta Dance” can be divided into three parts. Write a sentence that summarizes the main idea of each part of the story. Use your own words. The first one has been done for you. Part I: Saying Good-bye(paragraphs 1-5) After saying good-bye to her childhood home and the memory of her Brother. Katie decides to change her life. Part II: On the road (paragraphs 6-14) Part III: Meeting the Challenge (paragraphs 15-23) C.Reading for Details First circle your answers to the questions below. Then compare your Answers with another student’s. There is only one correct answer for each item. 1.How would you describe the attitude of the majority of Katie’s family? a.Critical of Katie’s desire to be a dancer b.Encouraging risk-taking c.Very supportive of all her plans 2.Which statement is not true of Mutts? a.He loved playing the blues b.He died before he could realize his dream c.His sister was very upset at his funeral 3.Which of the following did Katie do before setting out for the bus depot? a.She went straight to her brother’s room after entering her old house b.She danced a soft shoe in her brother’s room to the beat of a famous Jazz album c.She danced with a lot of emotion in her brother’s room knowing full Well that no one else was in the house. 4.Which one of Katie’s ideas must she re-evaluate as a result of her experiences? a.The pace of a long bus trip allows her time for reflection b.Waiters and waitresses are generally impatient and unkind c.Bus depots are usually dirty and packed with a lot of people 5.What did Katie observe when she was in the bus? a.On his third attempt, the little boy succeeded in throwing his hat out The window b.The little boy showed what perfect aim he had when his hat landed on a fence post c.The bus driver responded to the mother with a lot of compassion 6.Why did Katie go the diner? a.She needed to be in a quiet to think more about her brother b.She needed to wait for her audience to arrive and to mentally and physically prepare for her performance c.She needed to sit down for a while to take care of a pain in her side 7.What thoughts did Katie have when she was watching the lines form in From of the theater? a.She considered how differences in dress can cause people to be Uncomfortable with each other b.She realized that one should dress up when going to the theater c.She thought the street kids would be chased away by the police 8.Which of the following is true about Katie’s performance? a.The theatergoers liked it so much that they missed the first five b.Minutes of the show they had been waiting in line to see Katie was offered a job c.Katie was satisfied with her performance 1.(a), 2.(c), 3(C), 4(a), 5(a), 6(b), 7(a),8(c). D.Reading Between the Lines Based on what is implied in the short story, discuss whether these statements are true or false with your partner and write T or F on the line. Then write a sentence explaining why you made decision. What points in the story tend to support your inference? 1.Katie was a very private person. Support: ( ) 2.Family was important to Katie. Support: ( ) 3.Dancing came easily to Katie. Support: ( ) 4.Katie was ambitious. Support: ( ) 5.Katie sympathized with children like who rebel against their families. Support: ( ) 6.Katie was careless with money. Support: ( ) 7.To Katie, “going home” ,meant fulfilling her dreams. Support: ( ) 1(t/f), 2(t/f), 3(T), 4(T), 5(T), 6(T), 7(T) | 
