Sick Dancing

Lulu, one of my 6 year old dance students, looks up at me. Kind of. She looks up at me without looking at me in the eye. She’s looking at my ear, actually.

“Erin,” she swallows and the action in her throat makes her eyebrows raise, her head jut slightly forward, and her bottom lip disappear.

“Erin,” a couple deep wispy breaths, “I’m not feeling very good. I’m feeling sick.” One minute ago, I told the class that we are about to begin and I have interrupted their free play of Red Light, Green Light. As I look at Lulu, her long wavy hair is sticking to her sweaty flushed face. She’s wiping the back of the palm of her hand across her forehead and I can’t tell whether this is for effect or if she is trying to get some of that hair out of her eyes.

“Yeah, Lulu, I’m not feeling very good, either. We’ll take it easy, ok?” And then I address the class, “Hey, everybody, let’s come sit in a circle.”

I am bombarded with little bodies who make physical contact with any part of me they can reach. I have a hand on each shoulder, a child on each knee, and some arms wrapped around my neck. I look across the circle at Lila, another student, who is running straight towards me and yelling, “I have a fever! I have strept throat!” She leaps into my torso and my arms automatically reach out to catch her.

That was Tuesday.

Today is Thursday.

I am sick.

In eighth grade, I had mononucleosis. I remember those 2 weeks with great fondness. My whole world was paused: no ballet, no school, lots of sleep. To this day, when I sense the onset of illness, secretly I hope it is mono. These days, though, I am afflicted only with little people’s sicknesses: running noses, sore throat, slight fever. These symptoms do not warrant adult sick days. And I feel like my 30 year old’s body is walking around battling the world's diseases with a 6 year old’s immune system.