Jumping Jack Flash Dance

Jumping Jack Flash

Have you ever felt like you won something that others might see as a loss? Picture this: you’ve been studying tirelessly for an important exam, and you earn a B—the highest grade you’ve had all semester. You’re thrilled, but your friend, who gets an A-, feels like a failure for falling short of her usual A+.

In moments like this, your reaction matters. Do you resent your friend for not appreciating her achievement? Do you downplay your own success to avoid upsetting her? Or do you embrace your B, knowing it’s a win for you, even if it isn’t perfect?

It's not the event, it's how you react to it. That’s the kind of wisdom scrawled on bathroom stalls and preached by Stoics, Buddhists, and Sunday school teachers alike. I don’t usually agree with popular philosophies, but this one holds water. And when I was 11, I learned it firsthand.

That summer, I worked as an assistant cook at a teen camp. How does an 11-year-old land a job like that? Nepotism, pure and simple—my sister was the head cook, and my brother ran the camp. Most of the campers were older than me, but occasionally, when I wasn’t in the kitchen whipping up five pans of cornbread, I joined their activities.

One afternoon, the campers held a dance in the lodge. I loved classic rock, and the hippie counselors were playing all the hits. But I was a wallflower by nature and had no plans to join in.

Then ‘Jumpin’ Jack Flash” by the Rolling Stones came on. It’s a song I later learned was about drugs, but at the time, it was just pure energy. I tapped my foot to the rhythm, careful not to draw attention.

Suddenly, a girl—a freckled, brown-haired ball of energy—bounced across the room and stopped in front of me. “Wanna dance?” she asked. She seemed so effortlessly confident, as if asking was second nature to her.

I froze. Did I nod? Did I grunt? I don’t remember. All I know is that moments later, I was dancing. Well, as much as you can dance to a Rolling Stones song—it was mostly hopping and swinging our arms. To be honest, that’s still my style today.

When the song ended, there was a brief pause in the music. Then the girl turned to me and said, “Thanks, I just wanted to make my boyfriend jealous.”

Another guy might have felt hurt, embarrassed, or even angry. Not me. I’d just danced my first dance with a girl, and I was on cloud nine.

That dance was my B. Maybe it wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t need to be. It was a victory, and it meant everything to me.

Over the years, I’d earn plenty more B’s—in school and in life. But none would ever be as sweet as that first dance to “Jumpin’ Jack Flash” with the bouncy girl trying to make her boyfriend jealous.