I saw my first drill team at my first pep rally my freshman year of high school. I had just moved from Germany where dance teams did not exist. We were lucky to have cheerleaders, and I did not even know much about them. The gym was stifling in the Texas heat. I had to crane my neck above rowdy classmates to see the floor. The announcer's voice was crackly as it sputtered out of the speakers:
"Here come the Killeen Kangarettes!"
Lines of these "Kangarettes," clad in black leotards, belts, and thick pants, (and they all wore the SAME shoes!) smiled brilliantly as they marched in unison onto the floor. The raucous dimmed a bit, and the band began to play.
I held my breath as the girls, a few of whom I recognized after two weeks of classes, moved. They spun, they leapt, the melted from a block into a single line and kicked their legs into the air. Their limbs flew as high and even higher than those of the gymnasts I'd seen and so admired in Barcelona two years before.
I scanned the line for my classmates again. This proved more challenging than I anticipated. Every girl wore the same uniform, the same make-up, the same pony tail. Every girl performed the same dance in her own space on the floor. After a while, I gave up looking for my acquaintances. They were one dancer, one body. There were making magic. I wished at that moment that I could be a part of it.
A mousy ninth grader, it took me a while to work up the courage to ask about these Kangarettes. I learned that you had to audition for the team, there were early-morning practices, after-school performances, costumes to buy, rules to follow...but the more I learned, the more I wanted to be a part of it.
I had been in a dance/drama club in fourth and fifth grade and took a ballet "class" (I use the term loosely because I didn't learn anything) for a couple of months in kindergarten. I was a professional "living room dancer," but knew nothing about technique, terminology, or even what an 8-count was.
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