The Tap Shoes Anonymous

On my first day of third grade, I wore tap shoes to school. The majority of my elementary school years was a blur, but I vividly remember this occurrence as it is the earliest memory I have of going decisively against the crowd. They were a creamy beige color with a dainty ribbon tied into a tiny bow, and aluminum taps that were so reflective if you turned them towards the light in a certain way, they’d blind you. Although my interest in dance was short-lived, those shoes made me feel like an icon, a Fred Astaire of some sort. My eight-year-old self made the executive decision to wear them to school.

So when the day came, I, with the utmost defiance, slipped on the tap shoes, ran onto the bus, and made my way to school. As I strode into the building, nearly all the students turned their heads in response to the rhythmic clacking that echoed from the aluminum taps hitting the shiny, epoxy floors. Only a few hours into the school day, my English teacher pulled me aside and curtly explained that the noise from my shoes was distracting, then proceeded to walk me down to the nurse’s office. The nurse was lighthearted about the situation, mentioning how my footwear dilemma was the first one she had encountered in her career. After a...