Park Vista step dance team unites in love of dance
By RACHEL SAUER
Palm Beach Post
We join the Park Vista Community High School step dance team – about half of it, anyway – in a van, driving home from Belle Glade. It’s Friday night and it’s late and it’s very dark. Stomp Down 2006, the team’s final competition this school year, just ended.
The girls are sprawled on the seats in various levels of slouch. Most have cellphones glued to their ears. Monique Whittle, 14, is talking to her auntie.
“Auntie,” she says, “they called third place, and it wasn’t us. And auntie, they called second place … and it wasn’t us. And then, and then, auntie … the looonnnnggest pause. We waited. Christmas came and went. Five times. And auntie, auntie, it wasn’t, it wasn’t … ”
THE RIGHT RAW MATERIALS
They will tell you it’s easy.
They will tell you if you can clap your hands and stomp your feet, you can step dance. This is not entirely true.
You can clap your hands and stomp your feet and look like you’re having a seizure.
Or you can clap your hands and stomp your feet and be rhythm personified. This takes particular skill. Not everyone has it.
Fortunately, with the right raw materials, it can be taught. And this is where our story begins.
Park Vista is a new school, opened in Boynton Beach for the 2004-05 school year. When a school opens, certain things are given: There will be a football team. There will be basketball teams, and cheerleaders, and speech and debate. There will be a yearbook.
Other things are less definite. Last school year, there was no Park Vista step dance team.
At the beginning of this school year, Tabitha Foreman, 16, and Tavar “TJ” James, 16, got to talking. They both love step dance – Tabitha joined the step team at Congress Middle School and TJ taught himself to do it by watching his sister and other dancers. Wouldn’t it be fun, they agreed, to have a school step dance team?
But it’s one thing to have an idea, and another thing entirely to make it happen. They would have to start from scratch. They approached the school’s administration. They found a staff sponsor – Vivian Williams, a 10th-grade English teacher who was on the step team at Fayetteville State University in North Carolina. They drafted a charter. Honestly, the whole process was kind of a pain. But by early October, they were an approved school club.
So that was the first step. Now they needed more than two members.
RECRUITING THE TEAM
They made and hung fliers announcing the team, and on the afternoon of tryouts 24 girls showed up. Some were cocky, some were shy. They came with prepared routines, and Tabitha explained she and TJ weren’t looking for ability so much as “originality, creativity. They had to be sharp, they had to smile. Just overall attitude.”
Some of the girls, like Fedorah Marcellus, 14, had been on other step teams. Some, like Kortney Chester, 15, had dance, but not step, experience. Some just wanted to give it a try.
After whittling the 24 down to 18, plus Tabitha and TJ, they were a team. First order of business: a name. The school’s mascot is the Cobras, but they also wanted a Greek name, since many of the best step teams are sponsored by fraternities or sororities. So they became the Chi Sigma Chi Cobras.
And then, of course, the step dancing. They started at the most basic: stomp your right foot, clap, stomp your left foot, clap. Even the girls who hadn’t stepped before caught on quickly – you hear a rhythm enough and it sticks in your head, tattooing itself on your feet.
From there, the routines, which TJ choreographed, became increasingly intricate – not just the steps themselves, but the formations in which they did them. And there were accompanying chants, all swagger and bravado: “Neighbors will tell you that it’s no lie, no one can do what we do. Chi Sigma Chi!” and “It’s about that time that we show you what we want to do. People underestimate the mighty Cobra step crew. We’re here to show it to you one more time, there’s no shadow of a doubt it’s Chi Sigma Chi!”
They performed in an exhibition Feb. 19 at Palm Beach Lakes High School and the audience freaked out over them. At a competition March 4 in Delray Beach, the crowd screamed and they placed second, winning $200 (they murmured among themselves that they didn’t win first because their outfits weren’t sharp enough, even if their stepping was).
GETTING NERVOUS
Which brings us to last Friday’s the March 31 “Stomp Down 2006” at Lake Shore Middle School in Belle Glade. It would be their last competition of the school year.
“We’re gonna win it, ladies,” TJ informs the girls at practice March 14. “You know that $300 is ours.”
He stands in the front of the cafeteria, facing the girls, who are in mostly even rows. They’re practicing the routine from the Delray Beach competition, which TJ has modified and refreshed and pumped up. Given it more sass, if you will.
They run through the first segment. Instead of being in unison, the steps sound like microwave popcorn.
“Mmm mmm mmmm,” says Williams, who is sitting on a cafeteria table at the far side of the room and shaking her head.
TJ agrees. “That was nasty,” he says. “Do it again.”
This time, it’s a little better. Moving on to the next segment. More popcorn.
Tabitha scowls.
Over and over. TJ sighs, and slowly, exaggeratedly demonstrates a particular arms-up-and-over move. The girls do it again, and sigh themselves. They do it again.
“I hope we ain’t doing the butterfly and … ” says Chyna Scott, 15.
“Ain’t doing?” TJ asks.
“Aren’t doing butterfly and jump on it,” Chyna corrects herself, and still manages to complain about two steps she doesn’t like.
“Well, we are,” TJ says. “Get used to it.”
The girls, it should be noted, love TJ. He gets impatient, sure, but only because he wants the team to do its best, they explain.
They practice again two days later, their normal twice-a-week practice schedule, and take spring break off. The week after leads up to the March 31 Stomp Down 2006, so they practice every day. Some days are better than others.
“Chyna, where’s your shoes?” TJ asks as she walks into the cafeteria for the March 28 practice.
“Where’s your glasses?” Tabitha adds.
“I have my contacts!” Chyna protests.
They’re getting nervous. The girls are squirrelly coming back from spring break. The competition is in four days. The girls need to wear shoes so they can step loud, TJ informs them.
“Your feet need to pierce this floor,” he says, stomping his to demonstrate.
The girls move into formation and Takeashia Black, 17, asks, “Where we at?”
“You’re not supposed to say ‘at,'” corrects Sergeline Mirtyl, 15.
“Where. Are. We. Supposed. To. Be?” Takeashia huffs.
It’s not the time for grammar lessons, but they can’t help themselves. They pick at each other then offer hugs. They wilt and prop each other up during water breaks. They shriek with laughter when someone burps.
But now it’s time to be serious. They sound like popcorn again. TJ cuts one move and considers cutting another.
“What do y’all think about cyclops?” he asks, demonstrating the move.
“Cyclops?” asks Trinette Pledger, 17.
“Why are you calling it cyclops?” asks Jessenia Dominguez, 15.
“You know, from The Odyssey,” he says.
“You mean vortex?” asks Trisha Pledger, 17.
“A cyclops is that thing with one eye,” Tabitha adds.
Everyone laughs. But then they’re worried again. Their movements are soft. They’re getting in each others’ way during transitions. They’re frustrated. They’re exhausted.
DECISION TIME
The next day’s practice is better, but Thursday it all comes crashing down.
It’s their dress rehearsal, and they’re wearing the white, knee-length baseball pants – bought with the $200 from the Delray Beach competition – and baseball T-shirts they voted on (“They spend a lot of time discussing what they’re going to wear,” Williams, their faculty sponsor, explains with a smile).
It’s just not working. The pants fit weird. Their socks won’t stay up. Their baseball hats, which Williams bought at the dollar store, don’t stay on. They run through their routine in the gym, and nobody’s smiling.
“We won’t place with what I just saw, God is my witness,” Williams says.
It’s time for a decision.
TJ leads them back to the cafeteria and they gather around him.
“OK, I think we should go back to our pastel shirts with the black pants and suspenders,” he says. “This baseball thing isn’t working.”
“And baseball’s so random,” Fedorah adds.
They have a vote, and everyone agrees: nix the baseball outfits, go back to the pastel shirts with black pants, suspenders, tie and boots they wore for the Palm Beach Lakes High School show. They relax, and run to change into their regular practice clothes.
Several times through the routine, and TJ nods. And smiles.
Friday after school, and Williams’ classroom smells like burned hair. It’s a flurry of flat-ironing and eye-lining and bossing each other around.
“Tabitha, did you iron this shirt?” Williams asks, gazing critically at the wrinkled pink thing.
“I tried … ” Tabitha begins feebly, but Williams frowns.
“Un-uh,” she says. “This won’t work.”
It’s a relief just to pile into the van, driven by Williams’ brother, and into Williams’ SUV, and head to Belle Glade. The girls settle in, and then it’s just loud.
Trisha and Trinette, who are identical twins, share the ear buds on an iPod and discuss how to turn it up. Takeashia “gets crunk” in her seat, dancing until others join her. They all sing a Temptations medley – Ain’t Too Proud to Beg and My Girl and Papa Was a Rolling Stone. They marvel at the “desolate” landscape. They see a fat alligator meandering down the dike around Lake Okeechobee and squeal for three minutes.
But as soon as they pull into the parking lot of Lake Shore Middle School, they grow quiet. And nervous.
FACING NORTH MIAMI
“North Miami’s here,” Tabitha observes, and a few sigh. North Miami Beach is the team to beat.
They go to the locker room to change, taking off door-knocker earrings and nameplate necklaces, tucking in their shirts, tying each other’s neckties. They march out to the parking lot, pose for a group photo in front of a golden sunset, then gather around TJ.
“OK, it’s either black or white,” he says. “We either do this or we don’t. Everything needs to be pungent and sharp. If you have an attitude, throw it away … You may not be serious about it, but I’m serious. If we don’t place, boo hoo, we’ll cry when we get in the van. But we leave here with pride.”
And one more time they march in a line back to the school. “It’s an intimidation thing,” Tabitha confides. Despite their nerves, they sit in the courtyard and eat some Burger King – because they’re teenagers, after all, and they’re keeping the Big Kids Meal toys – then march into the gymnasium.
The show begins, eight teams competing, two exhibition teams. The Delta Academy gives an exhibition performance, then the Dream Team competes. They’re good, and cute in their pink shoes and khaki outfits. The Ladies of Essence are good, too. But then North Miami Beach blows everyone away. They step in perfect unison, they do steps that include one dancer leaping while another claps under her legs. The crowd goes bonkers.
The Cobras scurry out to the courtyard.
While the groups Mysterious, XCEL and Kappa League perform, the Cobras quietly run through their routine one more time. Chyna jabbers nervously. Lesmica Anilus, 15, wrings her hands.
Step Above performs, then it’s the Cobras’ turn. They line up facing the judges, hands on hips, and TJ starts, “Neighbors will tell you that it’s no lie … ” They launch into their routine.
IN PERFECT UNISON
They nail it.
Steps in perfect unison, sharp arm movements, chants loud above the screams and cheers of a crowd gone berserk. They smile and exude confidence. It really is no lie: No one can do what they do.
The team finishes, grinning, and the audience of several hundred is wild for them. They exit the gymnasium with pride, backs straight, hands on hips. They stagger into the bathroom.
“Man! That was kickin’!” Jessenia exclaims.
“Oh, my God!” Monique gasps. “We did so good!”
TJ is slouched on a folding chair. “I think we did all right,” he says cautiously. “I feel like we did good. I’m pleased. You never know if the judges are pleased, but I’m pleased.”
One more group, the Delta Gems, performs, and almost immediately afterward the winners are announced.
The Cobras sit in two rows, forgetting to breathe a little.
Third place, Dream Team.
The Cobras cheer for them and wring their hands.
Second place, North Miami Beach.
The Cobras cheer again, and squeeze each other’s hands so tight their fingers turn white.
And now …
First place …
The Cobras!
The entire team leaps up, knocking over their folding chairs, exuberantly jumping up and down, screaming and laughing with abandon. They hug and hug again. It is an instant of pure euphoria as the audience cheers with them.
They run to the main dance floor, where they jump up and down some more and hug anyone who walks by. Their smiles are huge, incandescent.
And that’s how we’ll leave them, in their moment of perfect joy, with a final word from Monique to her auntie.
“And auntie, auntie, it wasn’t, it wasn’t … Yes, of course we won! It wasn’t anyone but us. We won!”