Jazzercise and empathy: Reflections on my first year of teaching
I stood by the back counter at my Jazzercise center on Sunday morning, saying goodbye to each customer by name. I work hard to know customers’ names, and to talk to each one before and after class. I’ve been teaching Jazzercise for a year (today is my one-year anniversary!) and it has added a joy-filled dimension to my life I never expected. Teaching Jazzercise is fun, yes, but it’s more than that. These people, my Jazzercise customers, are my family, my friends.
There’s more: I need these people. In my stressful, highly-scrutinized job at Stanford, I find that the intensity of the moment, the urgency of the work, draws me away from deeper connections with people. It’s my fault—I have a tendency to let Professional Amy clobber Personal Amy (and the fact that I refer to them as separate entities tells you a lot, I think). It’s too easy for me to dive head-first into a realm of work that does not require me to engage with people on an emotional level.
But my Jazzercise clients don’t let me disengage emotionally, and I need that. It’s not that they force me to care about them, but the way they open themselves up when they come to Jazzercise makes it impossible for me not to care. They bring their strengths, their vulnerabilities, their excitement, and their fears to the dance floor.
Some come to the dance floor in pain—physical or emotional pain—and they dance their hearts out. Some are shy, but they find their voice on the dance floor. Some look for community, some need “me time,” some find a kindred spirit. Some face toxic home environments, toxic work environments, crumbling relationships. Some have lost spouses suddenly, or after many years of battling disease. Some are dying of cancer.
Empathy is connecting to the lived experiences of others.
Jazzercise brings us together and gives us the chance to nurture empathy. This is something I need—we all need—but it scares the hell out of me. Caring is scary. It puts you front and center for feeling pain. In fact, it guarantees that you will feel pain, and heartbreak, and sadness, and loneliness. But it also guarantees that you will feel joy, and pride, and connection, and love.
Empathy is connecting to the lived emotions of others.
Every time we experience an event like last week’s bombing in Boston, I’m reminded of how important empathy is. It is the absence of empathy that nudges people to disregard the value of a child’s life. Absence of empathy makes people feel self-righteous enough to correct something they think is “wrong” about someone else. Absence of empathy leads to anger, hatred, vengeance. Absence of empathy dehumanizes.
Empathy is connecting to the humanity of others.
I don’t have any great words of wisdom or answers to offer. I guess I just want to thank my Jazzercise customers for sharing your beautiful humanity with me. It’s been a wonderful first year with you and I hope that we will enjoy many more years of dancing…together.
Your blog is spot on! Thanks for posting about Jazzercise. As a fellow educator I can completely identify with your thoughts and need for that non-work humanity to keep perspective.
I just wanted you to know how impactful this blog post was to me. I’m currently training to become an instructor. I’m not in the best shape, all though Jazzercise has helped me to be in the best shape of my life. I wonder why I’ve been called to do this. I hurt, I want to quit, I wonder if its worth it.
But reading your post has encouraged me. God has positioned me in my life to have empathy for other women. Those struggling with their weight. Because I know there is a deeper rooted issue. I don’t know what my future holds but seeing how an instructor cares so deeply for their “Jazz Family” makes me want to strive to be the best I can be and use my gifts and talents to help others.
I’ve just completed my first year of teaching Jazzercise too and your blog post has hit the nail on the head. Thank you for wording it so beautifully and for encouraging me to make sure I’m their for my clients, not the other way round.
What a beautiful post! LOVE!
Thank you for sharing this. You have phrased it beautifully!
Before I became a Jazzercise instructor, I spoke with “veteran” who told me that becoming an instructor was the “most growthful experience of her life.” I didn’t understand what she meant at the time, but I do now. After 10 years now, which have flown by, I totally get it. I have grown as a person more through Jazzercise than anything else. I may not financially need the job in the way I need my full-time job, but I need it for my own well-being. And my students have become my extended family.
It only gets better!
I have been Jazzing since 1989, & I truly love all the instructors I have met for their dedication. Many instructors too go thru their own trials & tribulations, illnesses, injuries, family crises, but they still show up & brighten our days, offer encouragement, & make exercising fun. That’s why we keep coming back. That’s why I keep coming back. So keep up the great work! Thanks for what you do, even on those days I would’ve rather slept in or, I’m extra tired, or recovering from an illness or injury. Thanks for pushing me to work hard, even with those routines that make me groan because I am feeling the burn in my abs, or glutes, or other muscles…You all rock!
Hi Amy, this is Lisa from your Sat 8am class. I love your class, your attitude, your enthusiasm, your intensity, etc. I really enjoyed this post. Thanks for making me sweat. We all love you!
Thanks for sharing, Amy.
I’ve heard it said that ‘real’ life, the best of life is experienced at the crossroads of joy and sorrow (or pain). Gibran starts his famous poem on the subject like this: “Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.” (http://www.katsandogz.com/onjoy.html)
As you point out, it’s always a both/and proposition when it comes empathy. We can’t pick and choose. In quiet moments I think we realize we wouldn’t have it any other way.
“And how else can it be?”