Some people will always remember their first high school dance, or the day they met that special someone. For me, it was the day I did my first break-dance move called the “coffee grinder.”

For my first time as the Jack of All Trades, I infiltrated a little-known group called the NIU Groundhogs. No, it’s not a group that sits around and watches the all-time movie classic “Groundhog Day” with mega-superstar Bill Murray; it’s a break-dancing club.

All right, that’s enough of the poor attempt at humor on my part.

The Groundhogs is a group of break-dancers of all skill levels who get together weekly to hang out and show off their moves in a non-structured way while dancing to every type of music known to man.

The group changed its name to its current one because the members like to hug the ground with their moves. They told me it was cheesy – I have to agree.

If the name doesn’t stand out, maybe the group’s old name, “Sub-Element,” rings a bell. They started practicing in the basement of Lincoln Hall until they became SA-approved in the spring of 2004. Now they meet from 7 to 9 p.m. every Tuesday night in the Chick Evans Field House.

The group is great for those looking to brush up on their techniques, or for a guy who has not an ounce of rhythm in his body – much like me.

The night started with everyone in the room stretching muscles and mentally preparing for the two-hour dance session to follow.

Being hesitant to join in, I sat on the side with my yellow notepad.

For many of those moments, the focus was on one of the regular members, Nikko Belano. For those of you who have a fever and your only prescription is more break-dancing, look no further.

Belano was gracious enough to teach me a form of beginners’ break-dancing by explaining the basic move all break-dancers should know: the coffee grinder.

The coffee grinder involves being in an almost-squatting position while having the right leg stretched out as far to the right of the body as possible. It is at this point that the dancer will make a counter-clockwise motion with their right leg, while simultaneously trying to jump over it with the left leg. Confusing enough? It is fairly simple for everyone who tries it – except me.

“A lot of people come and they try and don’t come back again,” Martin Mercado said. “It takes commitment, because it’s hard to break into it.”

After being taught by some amazing dancers like Belano, Mercado and DJ Maclin, I made a huge mistake and opened my mouth.

While learning a move called the six-step and top-rock, I mentioned to Jon Lehuta that he didn’t look like a break-dancer, but more like a country western line-dancer. After seeing his reaction, I quickly shut my mouth and prepared for the final portion of the group’s evening.

Members of the group quickly formed two crews on either side of the room. The remainder of us sat in a hush as the battle began. This battle was not with weapons or words. It was a battle of dance moves with a side order of taunting.

“We split up to see which side is the best and everyone will pull out all their heart and soul to be the best out there,” Belano said.

Never once did this group tell me I was a horrible dancer – like my prom date junior year did. If only she could see me after my stint with the Groundhogs.

Who am I kidding? These guys must have been lying to me the whole time.

Leaving the meeting, my opinion of break-dancers has changed drastically.

Anyone that can flail his body wildly in a thousand different positions to the tune of Cream’s “Sunshine of Your Love” is someone that you should learn to respect and befriend.

Columns reflect the opinion of the author and not necessarily that of the Northern Star staff.