But, as I walked back to my claustrophobic cubicle yesterday from a brief power walk to the bathroom, the song snaked through the hallway speakers. And, an idea was born.
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The number one song on the Billboard charts on my 14th birthday (June 14, 1983) was Irene Cara's "What a Feeling" from Flashdance. In fact, that song spent 6 weeks on the charts. Mind you, I wasn't allowed to see that movie--or many other movies for that matter--because of it's indelicate subject. In retrospect, it was probably a good call on my parents' part not letting an impressionable 14-year-old girl see a movie about a welder-turned-exotic dancer-in-the-hopes-of-catching-her-big-break, but the only feelings I remember having were irritation and embarrassment when all my friends were raving about the flick, and I had nothing to add.Thanks to MTV, however, I wasn't living in a cave. The music video for "Maniac" was one of my favorites. I used to frantically run in place trying to keep pace with Jennifer Beals' quick moves, but my feet didn't move as fast. Maybe it's because I didn't have leg warmers, taped up toes, and a unitard. Or, it could be that I was (am) the quintessential klutz. So, I sat in awe of her grace and beauty, dreaming of being in her place. I wanted to be a maniac, but Nerdsville was home.
"What a Feeling" was more my speed. When I was alone, I sang along, off-tune, to that song. (I know this because I taped myself singing along to my favorite songs on the radio to see if I had what it took to be a singer. Nope. Scratch another dream off the list.)
I remember feeling inspired by that song. If a girl from a working-class family in Pittsburgh could have it all, perhaps I could too. Of course, I would have to dance through my life metaphorically, because it wasn't going to literally happen thanks to the aforementioned lack of coordination. I could do jumping jacks, but had to the do the double skip when jump roping, and splits were out of the question.
My parents did a great job bringing me back to reality. No grandiose dreams or plans were entertained in the Schulert household. Practicality and stoicism ruled. I really wasn't destined to be a supermodel (a super unrealistic dream for a non-photogenic girl whose only shared traits with Brooke Shields or Cindy Crawford were bushy eyebrows). But, working at a clothes store and becoming a manager by age 18, that was doable.
Fast forward to Thursday in the hallway of the district office. I needed to hear that song at that moment. After a long week of sitting in stiff chairs during meetings and being bent over a computer, frantically trying to plan trainings and write meaningful, explicit, and focused instructional guides and curriculum maps, I was not feeling especially inspired. I trudged back to my workspace. I was tired. My eyeballs hurt. My back hurt. My brain hurt. But, in spite of all that, I had an epiphany: I really do feel lucky. I may not have it "all," but I have all I need and lots of what I want. 14-year-old Annmarie couldn't possibly imagine what a blessed life she would be leading. That song put some things in perspective, put a little pep in my step. I may have even done a little shimmy as I made my way back.
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I have taken my passions--helping people, writing, reading, teaching, coaching--and made a career out of them. It may not be as flashy or glamorous as some of the career ideas I had in my head at fourteen, but it is a position that fulfills me, even when it exhausts me.
I really am dancing through my life. Sometimes, gracefully; other times, not so much. But, I do have the satisfaction of hard work paying off. And that, my friends, is a great feeling.
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