Kids say and do the darnedest things. I guess I knew that already, but I was confronted with examples in every class. For instance, we had this one student, Adrian, who was constantly starved for the spotlight. Every once in a while, he would decide he wasn't getting enough attention and just sit down in the middle of the dance. Never an excuse. He just felt like sitting down.

Or he might leave a step in the middle, walk over to me and say "Jason, come here, I have to show you something." We're trying to learn a dance, Adrian. Show-and-Tell is scheduled for this afternoon.

The kids also taught me that fifth grade boys are awfully violent. We would do this exercise in a circle where everyone said their name while doing some kind of signature move in a 1-2-3-4 rhythm. So we would go around the circle, taking turns with our personalized moves. "Anna!" one would say with a smile and friendly, open hands.

The came "Brian!" who spoke with a determined look, his hands holding an imaginary gun and machine-gun fire coming from his lips. And "Abe!," who would typically say his name, clutch his heart and drop to the ground as if felled by an arrow. At least he got up by the end of the four-count.

I wouldn't say I really found a niche in CityStep. As much as I loved my fellow teachers, I sometimes felt like the only one who hadn't been a high school cheerleader in a former life (or a few year ago). And I wouldn't say I felt like I made an important contribution to society. CityStep claims to be this program for city kids who wouldn't be exposed to the stuff otherwise, but I taught as many upper-income as low-income kids (Cambridge is a pretty diverse place), making me wonder why some of the kids couldn't just go get real dance lessons. And I don't know that a little bit of dancing really gives anyone's self-esteem such a boost that they go out, get straight As and conquer the world. But I had a tremendous amount of fun, got to know a lot of great Harvard students and Cambridge kids, and felt like I successfully met an unusual challenge.

I continued dodging niches and commitment by leaving CityStep after my sophomore year. you can only pretend to be a danceteacher for so long, and I figured I should do more with all those comps I had finsihed during my first year.

Where did my odyssey of comps leave me? Well, these days I play around with The Crimson's weekly magazine, 15 Minutes, broadcast basketball games on WHRB, and talk with middle school kids about American government and the law (about which I know only slightly more than dancing.)

I guess I forgot to talk about friends and roommates and even a few classes which I might have liked, But that's not what I'll re member. I'll look back at my first year at Harvard as a time when I bounced around, dodged commitment and avoided responsibility --becoming King of the Comp in the process.

More imprtantly, I spent my first year becoming the best uncoordinated, no rhythm, zero-flexibility, kick-right-no-sorry-I-meanleft dance teacher in Cambridge, And I'mdamn proud of it.

Jason M. Solomon '93 is deputy magazine editor for The Crimson.