The Almost Perfectly Square Blue Building

There is a contradictory sort of sound that comes from a small blue building at the end of a moderately trafficked street. This almost perfectly square building has a dainty yellow sign hung to the right of its doors which gives the time of church on Sunday. This dainty yellow sign is sufficiently covered by a film of dust polka-dotted with the fingerprints of little children who have passed by. The double doors to the almost perfectly square blue building are made of a slightly brighter blue plain wood with a tarnished silver handle. Above the pair of slightly brighter blue doors a large, cut-out, purple, white, sign says SUZANNE’S DANCE SCHOOL. Suddenly, the contradictory sound blasting for the building’s interior is not so contradictory.

Inside the first door of the school is a hallway. Straight ahead is a second set of double doors made of finished and shiny wood. The second set of doors leads to a spacious studio with shiny wood floors and bright hanging lights and long mirrors and music emanating from every corner. The room smells like the damp slipper of a dancer who has just finished her routine. Scratches, dents, and scrapes-the floor has numerous scars from zealous movements and tumbles. The main focus of the room is the six paneled mirror that crowns the whole left wall. Light reflects off of the glassy surface to illuminate the studio from ceiling to floor. Upon further inspection, smears can be seen that require a thorough cleaning with Windex. The flashy, but occasionally careless show business attitude is subtly present in the dancers.
In the large room, through the second set of doors, is the sanctuary. White walls rise up to meet the high, white ceiling. Round lights hang equally low from scattered places on the ceiling. Several dozen identical red chairs are kept in the back left corner of the room where they are returned by their weekly users. The chairs, although giving the appearance of being well kept, have rips, tears, and small stains-signs of aging-on the red fabric. On the front wall, a spotless white screen is mounted. The words of Bible verses and hymn lyrics are created by an old but usable projector that lives in the wooden cabinets below. The clean and simple lifestyle of the attendees of People’s Fellowship is reflected in their intimate objects.
The voices of girls piling into the studio before class drown out the music. The instructor of the studio plays the music for class from a iPod dock that sits on top of three wooden cabinets at the front of the room. The instructor, a petit woman with wild maroon curls and dark eye shadow calls roll above the gossip. The dancers-leaving behind legwarmers, bottles of water, bobby-pins, and hair ties-rush to begin the routine. Soon all of their hips are moving in perfect synchronization to the rock beat. Sixty-eight jazz shoes dance, kneading the wood floor with chasses, pivots, and pas de bourrée steps. The stuffy, sweaty air hangs like a damp cloth in the atmosphere. However, it cannot be released; the eight windows in the studio are seven feet off the ground and never opened. This only lends to the secluded feeling the studio creates. The music that drowns out all outside noises and the windows that do not open and cannot e seen through create a dance world that is only occupied by the dancers, the instructor, and the music.
On Sunday morning, elderly ladies in pastels and trimmed hats drive into the gravel parking lot along with a few families with children stuffed into clothes that are obviously meant to restrain them. The people quietly file into the building. The worn red chairs are taken out of their corner to be arranged in straight and neat rows; the trusty projector is retrieved from its wooden cabinet. The people sit in their red chairs as nothing but occasional coughs and whispers disrupt the silence. The little boys twitch in their ironed pants as the little girls attempt to cross their legs prettily.
The building is a diverse train station of different purposes. Not only is it a church on Sunday’s and a dance studio all other days of the week, it is diverse within the realm of a dance studio. Classes are offered for ages ranging from toddler to adult. Throughout one day, Suzanne's can be home to graceful ballerinas, energetic hip hop dancers, suave jazz performers, enthusiastic tappers, and versatile gymnasts. The building only shows the contrasting values of its users in small details: the ostentatious mirrors that need cleaning against the old, but well cared for red chairs.
This almost perfectly square building is home to dancers; this almost perfectly square building is home to prayers. The hall is walked by girls in leotards; the hall is walked by girls in frilled dresses. The sanctuary is filled with hymnals; the studio is filled with rock singles. The wood floor is covered with dents from tap shoes; the wood floor is covered with skids from chair legs. The air is filled with nice perfume; the air is filled with sweat and hairspray. The people inside are quiet; the people inside are loud. There is energy and attitude; there is comfort and simplicity. There is dedication; there is dedication. There is joy; there is joy. The people gather to share in a common joy; the people gather to share a common joy.

-Sarah W.L.