Do you flamenco? These women are trying, and finding joy in the stomps, claps and sounds.

ROYAL PALM BEACH — Every Thursday, the rhythmic sounds of heel taps, hand claps and Spanish sevillanas seep from a classroom in Royal Palm Beach High School.

Inside, Gabriela Reyes leads 10 women through the series of steps and twirls of a flamenco. The chance to learn the ornate, demanding dance born in southern Spain has become their mission and their joy.

“There’s something really special about dancing with a bunch of people,” said Leslie Salmon, who taught English as a second language at the school for over 35 years and can claim Reyes as one of her former students. “The feeling that you get when everyone is doing the same thing is amazing.”

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The women closely follow Reyes — who first danced flamenco as a teenager in Venezuela — across the classroom, mimicking her feet, hands and facial expressions. They have different nationalities; some are working professionals while others are retired. But once a week, they all wear homemade costumes and meet to dance and chant “Olé!” in unison.

For Tania Esten, 31, the class allows her to practice a childhood hobby, one she feared she might have lost forever. For others like Sandie Young, 75, it’s their first time tapping to a flamenco. All of them say the class gives them the opportunity to rebuild the sense of belonging they lost during the pandemic.

Before Reyes' class, the high school offered dance lessons in ballroom, jazz and Zumba but never flamenco.

Over the last 10 years, Palm Beach County's Hispanic population has increased by 20%, according to census data. Royal Palm Beach, Wellington, Greenacres and the surrounding western communities have become pockets for Hispanic food, music and culture.

“It’s a community,” said Renata Espinoza, of Royal Palm Beach. “You can feel how we have something in common and we have a fabulous teacher.”

Laughter, mistakes, grace fill the flamenco dance floor

Reyes’ flamenco lessons are colorful and loud. The women face the mirror, each wearing costumes they've improvised.

Some sew their skirts with cloth they had at home. Some wear flowery beach skirts and others come with their office skirts. They all paint their lips red or pink and adorn their hair with flowers.

Reyes — also known as “La Canela,” Spanish for "The Cinnamon” — kicks off the group with footwork.

She marks the speed and rhythm of the steps with loud claps, called palmadas. The women flood the room with disjointed taps, but they slowly begin to stomp at the same time, as if beating the same drum.

There is tension between the knock of each metal heel against the wooden floor. When a student misses a step, they laugh loudly, retrace the choreography and get back in position.

Then Reyes moves to hands and arms.

Flamenco’s sharp footwork is contrasted by the swift, sleek movements of the upper body. The dancers' arms wrap around their bodies, their hands swaying in circles as they move through each pose.

Once they've run through the technique, they practice a traditional sevilla, a precisely choreographed group dance.

Class ends with a “Rumba,” a freestyle where dancers improvise together.

The women start with shy steps but by the end of "Bailando," a song by Enrique Iglesias and Gente de Zona, their heels make the floor shake, they scream and burst into laughter.

Every student in Reyes' Royal Palm Beach class has a story to tell about choosing to learn flamenco.

Leslie Salmon: A 'bucket list' triumph

Last year, Salmon taught Reyes in Royal Palm Beach High School’s afternoon English program.

Up until last fall, Salmon had never attempted to dance flamenco but was no stranger to its music. She listened and even played Spanish guitar songs during classes for her students.

“It’s been on my bucket list for 100 years,” said Salmon, a fifth-generation Floridian, born in West Palm Beach.

She dances besides Espinoza in class. They both miss a right-side turn but nail it on the left and hug each other.

Renata Ezpinoza: An 'escape from stress'

Espinoza, a native from Mexico, attended college in Spain, where she first tried flamenco decades ago.

She said the class lets her relive some of the most fun she's ever had. Now that she is retired, it helps her make friends and stay active.

Dancing flamenco just feels good, she said.

“It’s something to escape from the stress of everyday,” said Espinoza. “You come here and meet these ladies, and everybody is smiling with such positive energy."

“That is what I need.”

Tania Esten: 'I can still move and dance'

Two years ago, Esten thought she would never walk normally again, much less dance.

In 2021, a car struck the Nicaraguan-born woman while she drove a motorcycle around Loxahatchee. She fractured her right leg and foot.

Dancing flamenco helped her regain most of her mobility, Esten says.

“I’m excited that after everything I went through, I can still move and dance,” said Esten, who was 3 the first time she danced flamenco. "And seeing them motivates me to keep coming.”

Sandie Young: 'Let me go find those roots!'

Young has danced most of her life. Her first love was tap and she taught belly dancing for decades. Now, at the age of 75, she found flamenco has captured her heart.

Young rehearses in the first row behind Reyes. She wears a black skirt with green flares, a knitted black wrap and her old tap shoes. And with every step, she reaches out to a distant part of herself.

“Somewhere in my heritage we are Spanish,” Young said. "I just said, 'Let me go find those roots.'”

Meet the teacher: Gabriela Reyes, aka 'La Canela'

Born and raised in Caracas, Venezuela, Reyes was 16 when she first danced flamenco. She later traveled to Spain to specialize in it.

She built an award-winning career performing as a soloist in Venezuela, where she opened her own dance company. The country's political and economic instability prompted her to close the studio five years ago and flee to Guayaquil, Ecuador.

Reyes relocated to West Palm Beach two years ago and last fall, she enrolled in the school's English afternoon program.

Classmates and teachers pushed her to apply with the school district to give lessons. It was a long process, Reyes said, but now she is back to doing what she loves most: teaching in her new home.

Ultimately, Reyes said, the most important of the class thing isn't flamenco, or dance.

“It’s about growing inside and outside,” Reyes said. “For me it’s about empowering all of them to learn new things.”

Valentina Palm covers Royal Palm Beach, Wellington, Loxahatchee and other western communities in Palm Beach County for The Palm Beach Post. Email her at vpalm@pbpost.com and follow her on Twitter at @ValenPalmB. Support local journalism: Subscribe today.

This article originally appeared on Palm Beach Post: Flamenco class bonds students brave enough to learn Spanish dance