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The Accidental Discovery
The thing about Irish dance is this: you don't plan it. You just kind of fall into it.
I drove past that brick building on downtown Forest City for three years before I finally wondered what the hell went on in there. Every Saturday morning, I'd see women in hard shoes coming out, laughing, holding door frames like they'd just done something impossible. And every Saturday, I kept driving.
Then one winter, I got curbed. No, that's not the right word — I got cornered by my neighbor's kid, who wouldn't stop asking if I wanted to come watch her perform at the St. Patrick's Day parade. "Please?" she said, with the specific desperation of a nine-year-old who needed an audience.
I went. I watched. And within twenty minutes, I was signing up for a beginner class I hadn't planned on taking.
That was four years ago.
Here's the Thing About Forest City
Let me be honest with you: when I tell people in Chicago I drive forty minutes to learnIrish dance, they look at me like I've lost my mind. "There's Irish dance there?" they ask, like we're talking about some obscure subspecies.
But Forest City? This town has kept Irish dance alive since before it was trendy. Before every boutique gym suddenly discovered "movement rooted in Celtic tradition" and started charging triple for it. These schools have been doing this for decades — in basements and community centers and one converted warehouse that smells faintly of floor polish and determination.
The community here isn't performing authenticity. It's just doing it. And that makes all the difference.
Where to Actually Learn
If you're going to commit to this, you need to know which doors are worth walking through. Here's the real breakdown from someone who's tried them:
Celtic Steps Dance Academy — This is where the serious dancers go, and I'm not just saying that because they've got the trophies to back it up (they do). But seriously, if you want structured training that actually takes you somewhere, their beginner track builds you up right. The instructors don't let you coast, but they also won't let you feel stupid for missing a step. Two of their teachers have performed professionally in shows I've only ever seen on YouTube, and they still correct your arm position like it matters. It does.
Emerald Isle Dance Studio — More relaxed vibe, which sounds like a criticism but isn't. Sometimes you don't want structured. Sometimes you want to show up, drink bad coffee, and learn steps without someone watching your feet too close. They run competitive teams if you decide you want to compete, but they're just as happy if you don't. The owner's mother came to this country in the seventies and started teaching in her garage. The history here runs deep.
Tir na nÓg Irish Dance School — The smallest of the three, which is exactly why some people love it. Family-run in the way that actually means something — not the Instagram version, but the version where the owner knows your name and asks why you missed last week. They've got beginners starting every few months, so you won't be the only one learning.
What Nobody Tells You About Your First Class
Your first class will be humbling. I'm going to be straight with you.
You'll stand in a room full of people who make it look easy, and you'll realize your feet don't talk to each other the way you thought they did. That's fine. That's the point. Everyone in that room was once exactly where you are now. The woman leading the advanced class was once the person eating shit on a step sequence just like you will be.
Here's what actually happens in a typical class: you warm up (it's not exciting, but your knees will thank you later), you learn some steps (simple stuff, not the Riverdance stuff yet), you drill those steps until they're less wrong, and then you drill them again. The music playing is usually trad Irish, which is a specific acquired taste — give it three classes before you decide how you feel about it.
The best part? You're going to be terrible at first, and nobody cares. Because everyone remembers what terrible felt like, and they're too busy being impressed that you showed up.
The Benefits No One Talks About
Forget the fitness stuff for a second. That's real — you'll get in better shape than you expect from something that looks like it's mostly standing in place. Your core will strengthen, your ankles will become absurdly stable, and that "I should stretch more" thing you've been saying for years will finally happen.
But here's what actually keeps people coming back:
It's the community. I know that sounds like a buzzword, but I genuinely mean it. These are people who show up for each other — in class, at competitions, at the potluck after the Christmas show where everyone brings something and nobody brings enough. I've made actual friends there. People who text me when I miss a class. People who celebrated my first solo when I cried on stage because the step was wrong but I kept going anyway.
That matters somewhere.
The Invitation Is Still Open
So yeah. I drive forty minutes every week, and I'm still not tired of it. If anything, I'm more into it now than I was four years ago. I've competed twice, performed at more community events than I can count, and I own more hard shoes than I do regular shoes at this point.
Forest City isn't trying to be the next big thing. It's just keeping a tradition alive in the most ordinary, wonderful way. The doors are open. The floors are sprung. Someone will probably eventually try to teach you "Stairway to Heaven" on tin whistle in the hallway.
Go find out what's been happening in that brick building all these years.
