Before I let out a torrential outpouring of thoughts on one of my most fun classes, let me give you some context. People usually assume I’m the pre-med type when I introduce myself with, “I’m taking General Chemistry, a biology seminar…,” but then I reach “Spanish, writing…,” at which point they listen more carefully. The unpredictable part is when I add “…and violin. And tango.” From raised eyebrows and widened eyes to “Oooh, tango! That sounds fun,” to smirks and winks to even just a monosyllabic “hmm,” I receive all sorts of reactions when I tell people about the classes I’m taking. I purposely mention tango at the end. (Note to self: A little dramatic effect goes a long way.)

So, what is the big deal about tango anyway?

Movies and pop culture present a rather dramatic version of the original tango, with somewhat theatrical music and movements that are, I found to be, more “codified” than the real thing. Argentine tango, however, originated in the 1800s as a dance of the immigrants from Europe and Africa, who apparently got bored out of their wits and decided to gather at the streets, squares and bars of Buenos Aires to color the virtually non-existent social scene with a splash of “real fun.” This eventually snowballed into one of the most passionate and intimate dance styles. Well, now I guess the gamut of reactions makes more sense.

Anyway, my first tango class at Washington University was a far cry from all that.

I walked into the Mudd Multipurpose Room five minutes early and saw two girls standing by a corner, fidgeting with their backpacks—probably not knowing what to do because the only other people in the room were the instructors. Having made up my mind to get to know people in my classes, I walked over to them, only to learn that I was probably the only freshman in this class of mostly seniors. Wonderful. More people walked in, and many of them came with partners. Part of me was contemplating walking out slyly—but before I could do anything, our instructors introduced themselves with wide smiles and encouraging words, briefing us about Argentine tango and the class in general.

Without further ado, we jumped into the dance floor in lines of four and mimicked our instructors’ lithe, graceful walk to the best of our abilities, “stepping” and “collecting” in rhythmic intervals. Together, we formed a wave, with the front row advancing first and the following rows moving in a crescendo, crashing on the end of the dance floor and then receding to our initial positions. After oscillating a few times between the two sides of the floor, we were asked to “get a partner and gather in a circle.” Those who already had partners were set. The rest of us scanned the room quickly and partnered with the nearest person.

Our instructors got into the center of the circle. Palms out, ankles leaning forward, they showed us a bunch of basic steps with smooth, cat-like footwork—all this while not looking at their partners’ feet, but rather “sensing” the way they shifted their leg weight. Trying hard not to notice the undeniable awkwardness of having to look at our partners the whole time, we clumsily repeated the steps while the instructors excitedly introduced the high points of tango moves—the “sugar bowl” and “ballroom” embraces. With music.

How on Earth did they expect us to magically establish a “connection” with someone we’d barely met? I guess I found out when 90 minutes were up, and we’d become more comfortable, switched partners, learned more steps and danced to melodious Latin music (not to mention hit each other’s feet and said “sorry” at least a million times).

I felt stupid for ever having considered running back to my room to log on to WebSTAC and drop this class. At the end of the day, I’d learned something new. I’d learned some cool dance steps and how to build rapport with new people (seniors too!), but most of all, I’d learned to look beyond the cliches that everyone imagined and stick to my convictions.