I’m not the most graceful guy around. After three years of dance classes, the most my teacher could say about me was, “Look at Nat. He can’t do these steps to save his life but he is trying harder than anyone.”

I played street hockey a lot in high school, and while I had no problem rollerblading backwards or surviving a body check, I fell over and broke my arm while standing in place celebrating a goal. When returning from one of many breaks from writing this, I tripped on my pants leg and nearly wiped out across the desk.

When I realized that I’d have to take Movement this year as part of my theater course load, I thought about throwing in the towel, putting on a suit and pursuing a real career.

My fears were right. For a semester and a half, I’ve stumbled through Movement. My crane portion of the Tai chi chuan martial arts form looked more like a drunk pigeon than a graceful water bird. My 10-month old cousin Amelia could probably put together a better juggling scene than I did. If I get called on in class, it’s usually to be told, “Look what Nat’s doing. Now do the opposite.”

My Movement professor announced one day that he’d be gone for two weeks and that he’d procure a substitute. A substitute named Fanny. Fanny the circus gypsy.

Fanny comes from a long line of circus performers; eight generations, actually. From what I understand, she’s been doing acrobatics basically since she popped out of the womb.

I don’t think my professor gave her any guidelines for what to do with us. Knowing him, he probably just told her to try anything she wants. Any crazy, dangerous, daunting thing she could think up.

As you can imagine, the idea of having a circus performer kick my butt all over the mats didn’t sit well with me. I can barely walk without hurting myself on the ground; what would I do on a tightrope or a ball? Yes, Fanny makes us walk on top of a giant, rolling ball.

My class spent most of last week in the air. The first day, Fanny hung a silk from the ceiling and taught us how to climb it. We did all kinds of tricks up there: handstands, splits, hanging from the silk using just our knees.

Friday, she brought in bungee cords. We strapped into a harness and bounced back and forth, flipping this way and that.

I have no sense of my body. I don’t know how things fit together or how to make my movements graceful. When I dance at parties, limbs jerk in all different directions. I fear for those around me.

But things were different on the silks. Movement was effortless and unconscious. My body did what it was supposed to without any instruction from my brain. I flowed from trick to trick, suspended from the ceiling. Fearless. Weightless. Free.

We have one more week with Fanny. I certainly won’t be ready for the circus in that time; I probably won’t even be able to walk on the ball.

I won’t be a movement genius, either. Odds are that I’ll still do the Tai chi chuan form like a fool.

But I’ve learned more this week than I have in a long, long time. I’ve learned not to be afraid of anything, including circus tricks. I’ve learned that I can make my body do graceful things. I’ve learned to be free.

Nathaniel French is a sophomore theater studies and math double major. He can be reached for comment at [email protected].