In the fall of 2009, I took a beginning level guitar class. On the first day of this class, my instructor, Larry, expressed to us his annoyance with “sandbaggers,” and anyone that could identify as such either needed to drop the class, or find a different one.
What is a sandbagger, you ask? Well according to Larry, it is a student who has a relatively large amount of experience with a certain skill or subject, but still signs up for the beginning level course. Whether it’s for refreshment, an easy A, or just to have a blow-off class, I never knew the reason these sandbaggers do what they do. Until now.
I am in a ballroom dancing class this fall semester, and I am a sandbagger.
Every Monday, 75 or so students slowly fill the Molly Shi Boren ballroom for a couple hours, and try their hands (or should I say feet) at dances such as the Waltz, Tango, and Cha-Cha.
However, near the end of class when the music goes from a smooth and exquisite waltz to a loud, in-your-face, trumpet-blaring beat, I know it’s time for Swing. It is also at that point that my mind wanders far, far away from my partner, my feet, or the beat, and to a place call Government Springs Park, where I learned it all.
It was Labor Day weekend of 2006, and a friend of mine, Isaac King, was throwing a going-away party for himself and a friend. We enjoyed tons of food, took many pictures, and Isaac and his band, After 3, stood up to play a set for his adoring fans and friends. But suddenly the crowds parted, the music stopped, and with a big bright smile, Isaac shouted out to the crowd.
“Alright! Everyone who wants to swing dance, meet me up there.” He gestured towards the larger-than-life gazebo he and a few stragglers were standing near.
“Okay, for a lot of you, it’s the first time you’ve done this, so girls get behind Sarah, and guys follow me!” he instructed.
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