He may not be John Travolta, but Paul Klepees has got the moves as he struts to the music of Saturday Night Fever — making sure not to step on any of the four bodies laying on the floor.

“Aah, ha, ha, ha, stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive” sing the Bee Gees from a portable CD player in the back of the room.

Mr. Klepees pumps his arms to the rhythm of the music as the women circled around him begin to cheer.

“I will do whatever it takes to get you to remember,” he laughs.

This is not a bachelorette party gone wild, but a Basic Life Support training class for health providers at Heartland Regional Medical Center. Mr. Klepees is the instructor, and the bodies are mannequins. The women are all employees at Heartland who work in a variety of professions, from nursing to housekeeping. And what he wants the class to remember is the beat to “Stayin’ Alive.” The music has 100 beats per minute, which also is the number of compressions needed per minute to save someone’s life.

“It takes a lot out of you,” he tells the students. “The first time I did this, I did it for 15 minutes, and afterwards I couldn’t move my arms more than this,” he says, barely moving his arms.

More than 6,000 people were trained at the center last year, but talk to Mr. Klepees, and he’ll tell you the work has just begun. He is passionate about the fact that everyone needs to learn CPR, no matter what their profession.

“Anybody can learn CPR, and anyone can save someone’s life,” he says. “It takes less than five hours to learn. And that’s five hours that can save your grandmother ... or you.”

At only 21 years old with a boyish face and slight build, Mr. Klepees says he sometimes gets “the look” from students at the beginning of a class doubting his credentials. But the doubts quickly disappear once he takes the floor. He has a confident, take-charge attitude that comes only from having experience.

“I’m not a trained monkey,” he told the class in his introduction. “I may look like one, but I am not just reading a script. When I tell you something, it’s because I’ve seen it, touched it and felt it.”

“Paul is probably the most enthusiastic trainer I’ve ever had,” says Kelly Boner, training center coordinator and American Heart Association regional faculty member, who trained Mr. Klepees. “He does a really good job.”

In the evenings on Heartland’s 4E step-down unit, Mr. Klepees gets an occasional opportunity to practice what he preaches. He works an average of 24 hours a week as a PCA (patient care associate) with patients who are out of critical care, but not ready to be returned to the main floor. During the day, he attends classes in Maryville, Mo., working on a certificate of practical nursing through North Central Missouri College. He plans to graduate with an LPN and bridge to an RN next year. Most of his experience, however, has been through his work with the Stewartsville volunteer fire department beginning when he was 16 years old.

“My first experience has a lot to do with why I teach CPR,” he says.

He remembers how the fire department was called to the scene of an accident where a woman had been ejected from her car. They couldn’t find her initially. When Mr. Klepees found her, she wasn’t breathing.

“My first thought was, ‘Oh my God, someone call 911.’ Then I realized I am 911 and someone already did.”

One of the first times he performed CPR was an eye opener, as well.

After a few presses, he heard a pop and realized he broke the patient’s ribs. Mortified, he stopped, thinking he had done something horribly wrong.

“It freaked me out, and (the nurse helping him) says, ‘Well don’t stop!’”

He learned that almost every time you do compressions on an adult you will break ribs because they are so brittle. But in a life-threatening situation, it’s something you have to do.

“You hear a crack and you keep going. It’s better for that patient to live with a broken rib than to not live.”

And every time he does CPR, he knows it may get emotional.

“Especially if it’s a kid you know and you have to do it through tears,” he says.

Or their mother’s tears, as in the case where he responded to an 18-year-old boy who had been thrown from an ATV. Mr. Klepees says he was fine until the boy’s mother arrived and began screaming with grief. All he could think of was his own mother and how horrible it would be for her if he was the one unconscious on the ground.

“Part of what I hope to get across in the class is the empowerment that you can make a difference. Even if it’s done a little wrong, it’s better than doing nothing. And it’s better to take a class and never use it, than be in a situation where you wish you did.”

It’s now test time in Mr. Klepees’ class. This will be the first of several skills tests performing CPR on adults and children, with one and two rescuers and with an AED (automated external defibrillator). To date, he has never had a student fail.

Student Abby Sutton is one of the first to test out. This is her first experience with CPR. She works in housekeeping and wanted to take the class “just in case something happens.”

“Get up there close and personal,” he tells her, as she kneels down by her mannequin. “There’s no use being strangers now.”

As she goes through the steps, Ms. Boner checks them off. Did she yell for someone to call 911? Did she tilt the head back correctly? Did she do 30 chest compressions and pause?

“Congratulations,” Mr. Klepees tells her. “You now know how to save someone’s life.”

Lifestyles reporter Sylvia Anderson can be reached at blakehannon@npgco.com