The Lesson

Want to gain fun and lose pounds? Then Carl's Zumba class is the place to go. However, he doesn't need advertising.

You see, Carl's the most popular Zumba instructor I've known. His infectious energy uplifts everyone, and the room reverberates with the intense routine filled with foot-shaking music. His class is never boring, the music choice, the routines, the accessories, are varied. He uses resistance bands, hula hoops, bandannas, weights, and pure enthusiasm. There's everything for everyone, and this is no hyperbole.

Lines snake from entrance to exit in a jam-packed class. Despite gym membership, people reserve a spot a few days before class by paying an extra dollar to stake their spot. The other way is to get to class an hour early and get a ticket for class behind the ones that paid. It's always a stroke of good luck even for paying members to get a place in his class.

Carl wields power over the class where the students venerate him. His exercises target several muscle groups including core, arm, leg muscles, and glutes. The sound of hands and feet hitting the floor, the peppy music, the claps, the whoops, make the walls resound. Despite the large capacity of the room and an air conditioning system working overtime, the room mirrors fog up like a love scene in a car from that old shipwreck movie.

The usual scenario goes somewhat like this. The line to get in class is impatient. However, Carl loves theatrics, and he finds it extremely satisfying to exaggerate the "no-surprise-the-line-is-so-long" schtick. Like a miser counting his gold coins, he sizes the line up and down. raises his shoulders, spreads his open palms, and shrugs with a satisfied smile.

It was odd the past week. There was no line! Of course, he mentioned he'd be off on vacation, and a few of us had forgotten!

The substitute was quite a contrast. Seemingly insecure, this young lady could not get the class enthusiastic. Those who came in for some high intensive training were extremely disappointed.

Her fumbling with the unfamiliar sound system got the class off on a rocky start. A couple of people rolled their eyes behind her back without caring the room had mirrors.

Despite the resistance, she tried to rev up enthusiasm.

“Make some noise," she cried somewhat unconvincingly, but the class remained condescendingly silent.

Her diffidence began to swell, and it affected the over-all climate. Most everyone’s disappointment turned to thinly veiled hostility.

She still believed she could turn the tide.

I felt sorry for the instructor. It was not about her, but Carl is a hard act to follow. How was she to know?

It got to the point where the rude left early, and she watched them leave with a helpless smile.

My friend’s enthusiasm began to flag. She whispered, “This instructor just cannot get me motivated.”

I did not want to give up.

"Let's get the energy up," I whispered.

Our whooping noises perked up the pace a bit, and the instructor smiled somewhat weakly. We threw in subtle moves the instructor picked up, and that did not seem to help.

"No can do," whispered my friend, and she waited for the song to end before discreetly exiting.

The teacher tried rearranging the formation, dividing up the rapidly shrinking group. She asked students for song choices, but they remained unresponsive.

When people began leaving in the middle of the routine, her diffidence peaked. From there on, it was literally downhill.

The below average lesson ended, and when I went to thank her, she gratefully beat me to it.

The following week, Carl came back with his usual swag.

The line was predictably long. People waited in line to get the numbers called. Unfortunately, I got there only ten minutes before class, and the last of the tickets were gone. I put my name on the waiting list, and could hear the conversation. The contempt the herd felt for the sub par class the prior week was undisguised. Like raging bulls, they were ready to unleash the energy on the floor with Carl.

We were back to near full attendance, and I was lucky to find the sole absentee spot. However, I could hardly see Carl from where I stood. He talked about his vacation, and everyone crowed how glad he was back. They began to stoke his ego, and his grin grew wider. He satisfactorily mentioned he had text messages from class members extolling his confident skills, and he thanked them for missing him this much. He brought attention to the complaints regarding the prior week’s class.

"Only seven people stayed in class, I heard."

Then he with a hint of sarcasm, he continued, “So, who were those seven?" Knowing the importance of classroom climate, I wondered where this teacher was going. If we remained silent, perhaps....

He repeated his question.

People scanned and turned their heads, probably to sneak a laugh at those foolish ones. The few that stayed were too embarrassed to raise the hand.

Despite the discomfort I raised my hand. It was no fault of the substitute they did not like her. Besides, it seemed somewhat unpalatable in staying silent for a herd this shallow. Seeing this, a couple others slowly raised their hand, almost embarrassed for having stayed in a “bad” class.

The class tittered.

Carl looked at me in the back and at the couple of hands hesitantly raised in the crowded class. He signaled for us come to the front line.

"That's your spot now."

The others suddenly looked at us in a new light. With utmost deference, they made room for us to move to the front row. I specifically took the most coveted spot right behind the instructor.

After class, I went up to thank him for another great class. Carl stood with his friend. Pleasantly surprised with the way he dealt with the issue, I wanted to know his reasoning.

He just looked at his instructor friend and said, “Haven’t we all been there?”