Sometimes you just want to scream, or just give up on whatever you are doing because you are just so annoyed about something. Well, I wouldn’t suggest that, but I get it; sometimes you just want to walk away. Something that I learned is that when you have patience, whatever you are doing can turn around and be an amazing experience.

It was one peaceful Sunday, the sun was bright and shining and the breeze was light. I was at my Nana and Papa's house with my family and cousins. My Nana told us to calm down because she had a present for us. Then she gave us all our very own wiggle board. A wiggle board is a smooth plastic board about the size of a skateboard with four wheels, a steering wheel and a place to put our feet. Knowing how to use this board was very interesting. We had to sit on the board and turn the steering wheel back and forth. Then it would kind of move in a zig-zag motion. We were all so excited to have this magnificent toy. We rushed out of the house and onto the driveway. I thought it would be exhilarating, but I was sadly incorrect. 

I got on the board and did exactly what I was told to do; I turned the steering wheel back and forth. But when I started going it went surprisingly slow. The wheel slowly drove over the hot pavement. My cousins and sister found out quickly that this slow ride was not fulfilling their need for speed, so they started pushing the cart with their feet as they sat on it.  They zoomed across the ground like they were in little cars, and they were not stopping. They looked like they were having fun.  My hands started to get hot under the sun, and I started to get mad; this ride was useless. I wanted to give up and push the wiggle board like they did, but I knew that was not the right way to use the wiggle board. I leisurely drove the wiggle board around and sadly maintained the same slow speed. I was getting frustrated at the thing that was taking me so slow. I tried to push myself like the others, but it was much more difficult. My legs got tired after a while of pushing. My legs started to feel like giant weights. I tried to go back and improve my riding the regular way. 

I tried to be patient as I rode the board, but I was getting tired. The silt breeze waved over me. The hot sun shined on me. That felt good. I tried to do it again, but this time with less concentration on how slow the ride was going and more focus on enjoying it. I tried more and more times. Every time I tried the faster I went and the more fun I had. I got better and better. I was having fun, and I had less frustration. It was never the fast ride I had thought it would be; it was remarkable though how calm and still it drove. It felt like riding a boat on calm waves; it gently gilded across the ground. It turned out that it was easy to make it go. Soon we were going inside, and I thought to myself how fun that was and how I wanted to get better. 

Now that I look back on that station I wish I had considered having more patience, but I am glad that I was able to have a little of it and have a fun time.  I know it won’t be easy, but the more patience I have the more fun I will have and the more joy I will get. This is one station out of many that patience can be rewarded; there are so many! I know I never went as fast as I would have liked, but it taught me something. It taught me that sometimes it is best just to wait and have patience and not to walk away just yet.                                                      

-Emma 

Everyone has pushed themselves to do more, to do better. Because you think, no, you know you can. So you push yourself. It’s new. Different. A change.  Swimming is one of those life skills you are taught young, like riding a bike or tying your shoes. Sometimes it's easy, and sometimes it’s downright scary. But it's exciting. Who doesn’t want to try it? What else is there to do on a hot summer day? 

I started swimming lessons at a swim school when I was around five years old.  The swim instructors gave me and the group of kids also taking lessons with me these ancient-looking styrofoam swim rafts. You know those blue rafts. They smell like old chlorine and they are rough, faded and falling apart from spending too much time in the pool. They remind me of when I am in the water too long and my fingers and toes start to look like raisins. We had to use these stinky, blue rafts to swim out into the deeper water where we couldn’t touch. Once you were in the deep water, you had to get these small plastic toy boats that were halfway underwater anyway because they wouldn’t stay upright and then swim back to the shallow end with one.  Now I don’t know if I was just being really stubborn because I didn’t want to be there or if I was petrified to go out into the deeper water, but whatever it was, I wasn’t swimming out into the deep end to get those stupid toy boats. I didn’t want one anyway. I have always been good at swimming. Even at the age of five, I could swim without the help of a life jacket or swimmies. I remember there being this one other kid who I think was scared of the deep area of the pool. He clung to that blue raft so tight that his knuckles turned white, and he just stared ahead blankly, hoping that he could get out of the pool. A few times, we exchanged a glance at each other.

The swimming lessons were terrible! They were not fun for me at all since I refused to participate. The time seemed to drag on forever. I could feel myself turning into a prune as I just sat there pouting and soaking in the over-chlorinated pool water. Each day, for a week, I returned to the same pool, at the same time with the same group of kids and just either sat on the side of the pool with my arms crossed and my teeth chattering or floated with my upper body on that scratchy blue raft as my legs dangled behind me in the cold, clear pool water. Even though it was the middle of summer it wasn’t like a summer should be like: hot, sticky, humid. Even if you don’t know how to swim, you just need to jump in a pool because you know it is going to be refreshing and cool you off. Nope. Not this summer. Or at least the week of my swim lessons. That week was miserable. Rainy, cold and dreary.  It wasn’t even hot out, and the sun hid behind the clouds all week. And the worst part of it all? The water. The water was so cold, all you had to do was stick your one big toe in and you instantly had goosebumps. At one point, I clearly remember, it was lunchtime, and I was so relieved that I could finally take a break and get out of the icy water. I was happy to be able to warm up and go sit with my parents. I almost didn’t hear my name being called. Everyone else eagerly and hurriedly got out of the pool. But for me and the other scared kid, we stood there shivering as the instructor told us when we had to come back and that we were not leaving the pool for lunch until we got the toy boats back to “shore,” as if this was a beach!

Later in the swim lessons, the instructors told my parents that I most likely wasn’t going to pass and I would not be receiving a swimming certificate if I didn’t prove to them that I could indeed swim, and not just in shallow water. I had to show them I could swim underwater in the deep end! The instructors had observed that I wasn’t a qualified swimmer and therefore I should only be allowed to swim in water no deeper than my ankles or worse, the kiddy pool! 

On the final day of swim class, we all had to be tested on our swimming abilities to see if we would get a certificate. The main part of the test was to jump off of a diving board into the deep water, swim underwater for a few seconds and swim to the side of the pool to the ladder. Of course, this was the worst weather day of the week. Not only was it cool out, but it was also pouring rain. All I had to do was walk to that diving board, hold my nose and jump in. Do you think that I could? Sure I could. Do you think that I did? I sure did! It took me a while, but with a little extra encouragement from my mom and a nudge from my dad, I jumped off that diving board with such enthusiasm; the instructors were in such shock and were so surprised.  If only I could have seen the look on their faces; my parents told me later it was priceless. And yes, I walked away with that certificate. I also walked away with a big toothy smile and an I-told-you-I-could-swim look on my face. The instructors still wanted me to come back for some additional lessons so I could be qualified as actually able to swim. My parents said they would think about it.

Ultimately, I did not redo the lessons. My parents thought I had had enough.  After all that, I became a pretty good swimmer. I was able to swim underwater for more than a few seconds, and I didn’t even have to plug my nose.  I even helped my little sister learn how to swim. Each year I become a better and stronger swimmer. 

Sometimes the fear inside you becomes so overwhelming that you close up tight like a clam and you tune out what is happening around you, waiting for the moment it will go away and end. But the real fear is of yourself. Of not taking that next step even though you know you can. The fear of thinking you are going to fail or get it wrong and not being able to make it right. You always need to push yourself harder and keep trying. In the end, you will surprise yourself with how you overcome your fears, and after that, well, then you know you can do anything if you put your mind to it.

-David

Have you ever walked through your school hallways and seen those posters? The ones that say,  “Don’t give up!” or “Keep practicing!” Almost everyone ignores those, but little does everybody know, these lessons are extremely significant in life. How do you prove to other people that you should be respected, that you’re good at something and should be valued? If you continually query this, you’re not alone. For many individuals, answers to these questions come from experience.  My occurrence was quite challenging but brought the essence of these lessons back to light.

I aligned the ball to the highlights of the rim. With a flick of a wrist, the ball elevated into the air.

Flawlessly, it fell right through the basketball net. 

I staggered as the piercing buzzer from the clock alerted everyone that the tournament was about to begin. I heaved a ponderous sigh. Gazing zealously at the hoops, I marveled at the stars of the team. Better tone down on the focus; I’m like a mouse in front of them, I deducted. Austerely trudging toward the bench, I pondered, What if...What if one day, I could finally prove that I’m a worthy teammate? That I’m not just some substitute player? My attention returned to the colossal candidates who sauntered before me. Blenching back in fear, I realized that any smart coach would choose them rather than someone like me. 

I apprehensively hobbled toward the Jump Ball. Standing on the side, I held my hands in front of a player from the other team. This is it, I pictured, grab the ball and pass it to someone else. The referee flung the ball into the air, and, for a moment, the ball was a delectable golden sweet, making everyone’s eyes sparkle with yearning expressions. With an uproarious slap, the basketball sailed to our offensive side. 

Without reluctance, I sprinted towards the ball as I was the closest. I glimpsed back and forth, but everyone else was far behind. Should I shoot? What if I miss? Maybe it’s better to secure the point by passing the ball...I dithered. 

Abruptly, something struck me. For once, maybe I have a chance to score. It would be wasteful to lose this opportunity.  Glancing back at my teammates, I knew that things would go wrong if I passed it way back there. So, I nervously crouched into position. Please go in…please... Legs buckling, pressure building, I rocketed my arms, and the ball silently whooshed through the net. Gasping and puffing, I stood, flabbergasted that the audience cheered and whooped for me.  The glaring stares were mopped away from their faces and instead replaced with merriment. Even though this was only my first shot, the positivity fueled me like a tank engine. 

I got ready to defend. I quailed when I realized I was a diminutive ant compared to the gargantuan elephant I was up against. The other girl sneered when she saw who was defending her. But, for some reason, she didn’t seem all that tough anymore. 

A flashback projected in my mind. I remembered when I was eight, and I saw a women’s basketball game. My favorite player was number 16, one of the shortest and smallest players on the team. She would jump so high above people’s heads and score shots from incredibly long distances.

Suddenly, I apprehended something.

Maybe I don’t have to be big, or tall. But I have something they don’t...I’m smart. Exhilaration cascaded through my veins. This was my chance. A crisp new feeling washed over me. Determination. A sense of purpose ricocheted through my body. 

Focus lasered through my eyes, and I locked my target. A girl from the other team confidently dribbled the ball towards us. She then gave a keen glance to the player behind me. They’re making a pass! I predicted. I promptly crouched down and started amassing my strength. These girls were huge, so the ball would plausibly soar way over my head. As soon as the ball left her hand, I was up. Visions of a trampoline painted my mind as I sprang as vigorously as I could. I was a piece of metal, and the ball was a magnet as the ball came right into my trusting arms. I captured the ball like I was catching a present. Less than a moment later, I was off. Pounding and darting, my legs were like an engine, propelling me forward.

The plan in my brain began to illustrate itself. Go past her and immediately secure the point,  I chanted through my consciousness. Adrenaline seared through me. Dribbling and weaving, I briskly scissored through the other team as if they were chess pieces. Each step got easier and easier as I started to reach the light at the end of the tunnel. Unfortunately, parents from the other team started to mislead me by barking and beckoning enormous posters. Seething, I felt like stabbing their vexatious presence. It’s okay...EYES ON THE PRIZE! With a quivery breath, I deftly clutched my hands on the sweaty ball and aligned my angle. Gathering all the energy from my bent legs, I ascended the basketball towards the hoop.

Initially, the ball jounced and swirled on the rim. The ball and net were dancing together, almost as if they were on top of a cliff. Please! You have to go in or else this will all be for nothing! I screamed through my mind. Lips clenching, hands shuddering, I felt terror permeate within me. Belatedly, the ball fell over and stumbled into the net. I breathed the most contented exhalation ever. Negativity swept away from me as a grin leisurely radiated across my face. Thank you.

Halftime passed by quicker than I could’ve ever envisioned. I scored three more shots and ten rebounds.  This will all be worth it when people appreciate my efforts! I bounded up to my coach with joviality.

“You know,” he began, “You seem to have much more potential than I thought.” I wanted to squeal because I was no longer the bizarre girl that probably shouldn’t be playing basketball. No, I was one of the most esteemed players on the team.

You could tell from my sweaty hands and dubious actions that at the beginning of the game, many negative thoughts were running through my mind. But with a little positive momentum and strong will, I thrusted those thoughts aside and shone through. Everybody has a talent or a unique trait that helps them sparkle through the rest. The key is to know when to harness it. The first step to getting others to respect you is to respect yourself. That means not beating yourself up by how you’re different, but embracing your uniqueness and using it to be the best that you can be. In short, everyone is built for success, and even though it takes time and patience to nurture your talent, the outcome of doing this will undeniably astonish you.

-Nethra

Regret… That one word can bring back many painful memories you might want to forget about. It could be something as small as not going shopping that one day or something as big as an action that has caused emotional and physical pain. Here is one problem from five years ago that I still regret and ponder about to this day.

It was summer time, an enticing day I would say, but appalling at the same time, and it only got more dreadful as the day went on. The smell of the hospital reached my nostrils; the scent reached my nose and constantly reminded me over and over again where I was and why I was there. The walk there was absolutely slow, and everything was going in slow motion. There were nurses running and lots of families, but the hall was primarily vacant. The walls of the hospital were blue, the doors were brown with white borders, and the rooms were white with almost no to some color. I was standing immobile in front of the door. The door number began with a three.

We tread into the room, and all of our relatives were there, sitting around the hospital bed. We all started saying goodbye and talking with him, holding his hand and talking amongst ourselves. I remember that my dad was balling his eyes out, and the two other crying girls were his sisters; everyone else was unquestionably pessimistic, and the air was indeed melancholy. Soon enough it was my turn; my dad urged me to walk up to him, and I held his brittle hand, wrinkled over time. During the process I was surely disoriented, and I kept pulling apart from his hand and felt assuaged when he let go of my hand, like a boulder rolling off my shoulders. At that time I was about six years old, and I didn’t really understand the circumstances. Shortly after that we said our farewells and left. I don’t really remember anything after that or before it.

The materiality only hit a while after, which happened about two years later, and from that day I kept on thinking he probably felt certainly sad because I was pulling away from him and that I didn’t give him a genuine goodbye, which gave me a heart wrenching feeling like my heart kind of drowned itself in water. To be honest, I don’t know why it’s still bugging me in the back of my mind, poking at my brain, but that day, when I pulled away, I felt like I did something wrong. Something really bad, but I can’t really explain it, something like betrayal. I still feel guilty to this day. What did he think? Was he disheartened or sad? Did he feel conflicted? Did he abhor me after that?

It was a Sunday afternoon, and my whole family was sitting at the table playing card games. We were playing one in particular in Italian and joking around. It was the end of the card game and Dad said, “You know… if Nonno Patata was here he would probably yell at you guys for playing this game horribly.” We all had a good laugh, but not the bellyaching one, rather the one where you just remember the past even if it wasn’t great and just chuckle thinking about those times. Three years later, when we were in Italy for vacation, we were in church. My dad walked up to the family and said, “Do you guys want to buy a candle for Nonno Patata? It's almost been four years since he has died.” At that moment my sisters burst out crying, and we embraced each other. 

I was paying no heed to it five years ago, but looking at it now I learned an undoubtedly important lesson that I didn’t know at the time. It is okay to be scared; it’s everyone's natural reaction to something we don’t know. So just because you're scared about something, it’s not your fault. If you don’t dwell on the past, it makes your life much easier. No one’s going to blame you in that situation, and it’s not your fault. So the best thing you can do is move on with friends and family.

-Elena

 

De-realization

          De-realization: A feeling that one’s surroundings are not real. A feeling of distance, emotionally and physically. The ineptitude to perceive one’s own existence and the existence of others. The failure to discern reality from imagination. The fruitless triumphs one shall undergo to devoid themselves of nothingness. The unwanted removal of feeling, love, and a sense of reality. All of these definitions immaculately describe the sorrow I underwent. The sorrow that burdened me as if it lasted three score and four years. It’s impossible to comprehend, even if you’ve experienced it for yourself.

 

 

“If you are going through hell, keep going”

-Winston Churchill

 

 

Incomprehension

 

            I was always one to prefer the caliginosity of the night and its peacefulness. However, that night was a contrast. There I lay in my bed, gaze narrowing, mind drifting. I was practically asleep when it all began. What if there is no God? The words pummeled me. Emotions I had never once experienced panged me as the thought grew upon me. The intrusive thought echoed, but not quite; an echo grows quieter. An echo dies off. However, this thought grew louder and louder as it tore apart my conscience. I fought the thought away, but I was accosted yet again. What if there is no God? A question a mere mortal could not answer. It was far beyond my comprehension. I began to panic, but not quite. Panic is the sense of fleeting common sense and adrenaline.

What I was feeling was indescribable. Describing this emotion accurately would be as difficult as imagining a new color: nearly impossible. My face was still, as if it was encased in stone. I gazed at the empty ceiling as if I had seen a ghastly being. I envisioned my soul transcending into the cyclic void. The question sparked something infinitely deeper than I had previously thought. I had pondered God's existence before. It wasn’t nearly as intrusive. Upon questioning God’s existence, I would brush it off. I believe the difference this time around was that I began questioning the underlying consequences of a nonexistent God. As a child, death was my greatest fear. However, the existence of a heaven comforted that fear. If there was no heaven and no God, then what comes after life? That’s what shook me to the core. Tears dribbled down my cheeks all through the night like a leaky faucet, nonstop.

 

 

“Someday, everything will make perfect sense. So for now, laugh at

the confusion, smile through the tears, and keep reminding yourself that

 everything happens for a reason.”

 

-Anonymous

 

 

Uncertainty

 

I awoke the next morning with white streaks running down my cheeks from the tears. Something was off; I could feel it. A feeling of detachment clung to my being like a parasite. Streaks of light beamed through my window. I would often feel relieved to see the morning’s blessing upon my window; today was a contrast. The beauty that was once there was gone. The once beautifully golden beams of sunshine now appeared dull and empty.

I arose from the comfort of my bed and embarked on a day of uncertainty. Everything around me was familiar yet distant all at once. I missed the sense of touch and feel that was once present. The feeling of my bare feet caressing my cold floor had disappeared. The feeling of tiredness that lingered after waking up was no longer there. I felt scared, and alone.

I didn’t want to, but I forced myself to get myself prepared for the long day ahead of me. Every second was a struggle; every second was uncertain. I constantly thought about my existence. I don’t understand. Am I real? Is anything real? I forced myself to hold back the oncoming tears.

As I entered the shower, my bottom lip began to tremble. There was no warmth. The once steamily hot water was now cold, but not quite; cold is the opposite of warm, but what I was experiencing wasn’t the sensation of cold. It was indescribable, nearly impossible to comprehend myself. A lone tear trickled down my cheek. It became indistinguishable amongst the heavy flow of water, similar to my senses. I failed to distinguish love from hate, happiness from sadness, light from darkness, and worst of all, reality from imagination. My conscience began to dismantle itself as the unfamiliar water caressed my body, also, very unfamiliar.

The obnoxious yet effervescent conversations that panged my eardrums on the morning bus ride fell upon deaf ears. My mind was somewhere distant. It was as if my very soul was attempting to communicate with me from somewhere beyond. Time moved as if it was molasses but not nearly as sweet. These were dark times for me to endure.

 

 

“Never stop because you feel defeated. The journey to the other side is attainable only after great suffering”

-Santosh Kalwar

 

 

 

Isolation

 

It was the day after winter break came to an end. Children began to chatter aloud whilst we awaited the arrival of our teachers. I traversed into the naive sea of students. A prodigious sense of poignancy coursed through my veins. The sense of isolation unleashed havoc on my mental state of mind. Look at all of these kids glimmering with joly ole glee! You wish you could be like them, don’t you? You long for the sense of reality, don’t you? Pathetic. The sense of reality began to linger from somewhere beyond; it was as if reality was the comforting smell of a distant barbeque; you acknowledge the scent but can’t seem to figure out where it’s coming from and what it truly is.

Children blitzed into the cafeteria as if they were a pack of hyenas, feet stomping, mouths chomping. The sound of wet sneakers pierced my ears as the shoes of many slid across the glossy floors. The light began to fade, darker yet darker, until the apex dawned upon me. I was abandoned like a dog in a cage, except the dog apprehended itself. Noise rang out, a familiar one. The muffled noise transformed into an optimistic voice, “It’s my birthday.” I couldn’t care less. I truthfully despised to hear the once euphonious news.  The optimistic voice was my friend, Jack. A year ago I would’ve been delighted to hear the pleasant news; this year was a contrast. Instead of responding and congratulating him for yet another year of life, I glowered. I never knew the isolation the absence of emotion could wreak upon a soul.

I continued the rest of my day in complete silence.

 

 

 

“Like all things, triumph is rewarded with the blessing of progression. You must learn and overcome, failure is inevitable otherwise”

-Anonymous

 

 

 

Freedom

 

The clutch of the crimson hands was unprecedented. I drowned in the chronic cries of laughter as the nightmarish figures chanted harmoniously in pure hatred. I attempted to escape the everlasting grasp, yet my attempts were futile, or so I thought. The devilish bellows haunted the darkest corner of my existence. I pleaded for the torments to cease, yet my triumphs were fruitless. The wicked warlock descended from his throne. He sent a blazing inferno coursing through my body, writhing me in pain. He gazed into my being with wide, amused eyes. I thought there was no escape. As the torture continued I drove myself further and further from the people I loved. Little did I know that the face of evil before me was nothing but myself.

I never came to the realization that I was raging war on myself. There was no enemy but myself. In order to put an end to my agony and devoid myself of nothingness, I had to delve further. I had to delve to the depths of my sanity to find the source of my pain. Repetition. An epiphany struck me as if it was lightning. I encountered a sudden flashback, a flashback tracing back to the beginning of the madness. What was it that frightened me the most? The cyclic void.

I was astounded with my realization. The clock ticked periodically with the passing of time as I slowly drifted back to the place I belonged. Reality.

 

 

 

 

Reflection

As I grow physically, I grow mentally. Writing this essay helped me progress as a person and unlock my repressed memories. My mind attempted to shut out the damning memories, but history repeats itself. We can create a better future by remembering the horrid past. I intend for this essay to serve as a message to anyone struggling with mental health: there’s always a light at the end of the tunnel. However obvious that may seem, it’s true. No matter how difficult it is to break free, persevere. If I could do it then, so can you. Don’t let the cold darkness of the night prevent you from feeling the warmth of the sun.

 

 

 

 

-Judah

 

“Should I listen, or should I not listen?” Sometimes you know you should listen, but you decide not to even though you know, deep down, that you should consider listening to what others say. This is about a time when I was told not to do something, but I went ahead. And well, it didn’t go well……….

          It started out as an exquisite summer day, and my cousin Livon had come over to my house. We were thinking about what we should do. Then after a couple of minutes, I stated, “Hey Livon, wanna play tag?”

With elation, he responded, “Yeah! Let’s do it.” My cousin was the tagger, and I started to swiftly sprint to my backyard where there was an old and rusty fence that I was able to climb over, but it was made of metal and rigid.

My clever dad saw me and immediately knew what I was going to do, and then he exclaimed, “Don’t climb over it, you’ll hurt yourself!”

          So then I sprinted around, and we kept on tagging each other. After that, my cousin was the tagger, and I ran to my vast backyard; I saw the fence, and an abundance of good and bad thoughts ran through my head.  Don’t do it George, you’ll hurt yourself. Do it George, it’s gonna be legendary!!! So despite what my dad stated, I decided to go for it.

With all the mighty speed that I was able to converge, I went for it! I jumped over an aged tree that was cut down and put my foot on the bark of it and launched myself over the fence. I felt like Superman, like I was flying at the moment. Then I felt my foot not moving, and the next thing I know is that I’m on the floor face-planted with wood chips on my face. I felt tears rolling down my face, and I heard Livon hastily sprinting over to me as he saw me on the ground with my foot all scratched up by the rigid metal. He came over to me and saw me in ghastly pain, then he dashed to my parents, and I saw them zooming over to me. 

My dad, understanding that I was having a noticeably difficult time getting up, picked me up with ease and brought me into our house. I was unaware of what my horrendous foot looked like, and when I looked down, I was stunned. It had looked like a monster had scratched my foot because there were horrifying red lines all over my foot. My parents were applying medine and other items because the fence was rusty and I might have gotten an infection.

After they were done cleaning me up, and we were settled down, my dad had decided to have a serious talk to me about what had happened. “George, I had told you not to try to jump over the fence.”

Then I, understanding what had happened, responded,“I’m sorry, Dad, I should have listened to you.”

To this day, I remember that event that had happened to me years ago! I had learned a valuable lesson that day, which was to always listen to what wise people tell you. They could be older or even younger. My dad told me not to jump because he was well aware of the consequences that could have happened. I also learned another important lesson, which was to always think before you act. If I had thought of the terrible consequences then, I definitely wouldn’t have tried to attempt the stunt. Now I always think about the consequences of my actions and take the advice of people older and younger than me, which I believe is right.

 

 

-George

 

 

With 7.6 billion people actively interacting and living on this planet, it is almost absolutely certain that we have come across some miraculous events that took overwhelming amounts of luck. But luck doesn’t always come your way when you need it most. The chances of something happening are very slim, and sometimes you cannot expect anything. Although this may be the case sometimes, we still have to look on the bright side of things and tell ourselves that nothing is impossible. There could be a matter of seconds before you open your eyes to a miracle.  Here is one of those moments where I had the most unexpected plot twists of my life.

It all began when we parked in the parking lot of my elementary school. Just thinking about it gives me overwhelming nostalgia for all of the other memories I have experienced there. We strolled through the main door and headed towards the cafeteria where the Winter Party was starting. My mind was still engaging in the raffles that we had put into the jar the day before.

After waiting for a few minutes, the principal stepped into the front of the crowded tables of people eager to find out if the precious slips of paper they had put into the jar had won anything. The principal soon announced the commencing of the raffle ticket event that is hosted annually. The first few raffle prizes were small, which I wasn’t too excited to see if I had won. After the first few excited winners were called, the real prizes started being called. I waited for my name to be called, but it just never happened. Winner to winner, every time someone was called up, I got less hopeful. It had seemed like all of the raffles I had hoped to win had already been taken. I had started to think that this wasn’t my year.

          As the last raffle was called, all of my energy and hope had seemed to have drained out of my body. Suddenly, the principal came back up to the stage. He announced that there was one more selection that everyone must’ve forgotten about. It was the “Principal of the Day” selection, the most important one that sat as the biggest jar right on the far right of the jar table. I had put a raffle in the last one just to see if I could give it a try even though my chances were really low. There had seemed to be almost 80 to 90 tickets in that one, which makes it even harder to win. I knew that this was my last chance, so I listened silently as they announced the winner.

“And the winner of our “Principal of the Day” raffle is...Young Xu!”

          I suddenly gained monstrous energy. It was as if all of the enthusiasm that I had lost had suddenly come back to me. My heart was rapidly racing as I stood up and proudly walked up to the front where I was awarded a colorful certificate with a bright and bold “Principal of the Day” printed onto it.

          A million questions popped into my head as we rode home peacefully. How had I been selected out of all of those tickets? How had my slip of paper been caught into the principal’s palm as he reached in to grab it? Amazed, I was almost more astonished about the odds of how that happened than my actual prize. Once I got home, I rethought everything that had just happened. It almost seemed surreal.

          Although this event may have not been as vast as some other miraculous achievements, it is still indulged in my heart, telling me that nothing is impossible even when it may seem like it. Something as small as winning a raffle ticket can compare to winning a lottery. You get the same sensation as your name is called, or the winning pattern is glimmering on your eyes, as you scratch the final hidden symbol off. The sensation where you suddenly rethink what had just happened and finally realise that life is full of unexpected events. Nothing can be expected, even if the odds disagree. Sometimes you just have to “expect for the worst, hope for the best.”

 

 

-Young

 

 

Are you ever losing by a lot, and when you are, do you ever give up? Giving up is the worst thing you can do, whether it is something you are trying to learn, something you are trying to overcome, or something you are trying to win.  I was once losing in the most important football game of my life, but I didn’t stop trying, and I learned the important skill of perseverance.

Waiting in the frigid air with an immense coat over my pads, I was numb. Disappointment filled the air as the Guilderland team before us had lost their championship game. Promenading around in what seemed like below zero weather, trying to keep warm, I knew it was going to be cold, but not this cold. The butterflies in my stomach felt more like pigeons because I was anxious of what would come from this game. Eventually, we started to warm up as a team, which created even more hesitancy because we would now be much closer to game time. We weighed in, and then went into a small shed. Our coach gave a gavalizing speech, and we were all ready and hyped up for the game.

The hype of our team and all of our energy slowly went down as the game started, considering we weren’t able to do anything on offense and they scored in less than four plays. Most of the team had already given up. We started to become lazy and not care; we all thought we were going to lose. Half time came, and you could feel the bad energy. We could hear the disappointment in our coach’s words. We had to pick up the pace.  We still had another half, and we weren’t going to give up.

Coming into the second half the score was six to nothing...they were winning.  But we now had the ball. We kept trying to run inside but soon realized that was not working for us. It was too late to switch it though because the other team got the ball from a fumble. They ran the ball, getting many yards, and were now at our twenty-yard line. Anger filled our veins; they were about to score again, but we stepped up and stopped them, forcing them to punt.

 Our coach called for a jet sweep to me. I was ready to sprint as hard as I could. I got the ball and immediately saw that there was a lot of open field for a good twenty yards. Sprinting as fast as I could, I gained sixteen yards before getting hit; I drove my shoulder right into him as more of his teammates came to help. I got an additional six yards after the hit and was now hyped up. The next play was the same play, yet now to the other side. I was lined up on the other side of the ball as the whole other team and their coaches were screaming to watch for me getting the ball. Hearing that gave me even more excitement. I could feel my heart pounding. I could tell this would be a big run. The play started, and the cold rock-hard ball was put into my frozen hands. I got past two people, then three, the crowd screaming. But it was all a blur. The only thing my mind was set on was scoring, and winning this game. I cut in, then back out, and was in the endzone.

“TOUCHDOWN TOMMY DWYER!” a kid yelled over the speaker. The whole team came running to the endzone. You could feel the excitement among us. 

After that touchdown, we were more alive, and we knew that we were back in the game and could still win it. We got another touchdown, the score was now thirteen to twelve, and we were winning. It was now the fourth quarter, and they just got the ball back from us. If they scored here we would lose.

“We need a stop here, boys!” our coach yelled. On the first play, they ran for twenty yards. The pigeons flew right back into my stomach, yet they now felt not like butterflies, or pigeons, but vultures. It was looking like we wouldn’t be able to stop them. They kept running and running down the field. We finally got a stop, and then another. Soon enough it was fourth down. This one play determined the entire game. They gave the ball to a massive kid; he was probably double my size and terrifying. He was running to my side and gaining speed. He only needed five more yards to get the first down, but… I pushed him out of bounds before he made it there. At that point we all knew we won the game. The entire team came running to me, and they all jumped on top of me; it felt like a truck was parked on me. Everyone was yelling and shouting, even our coaches. You would have thought each of us won the lottery. The excitement slowly died out as we went over to get the championship trophy. The whole team was still talking about it weeks later.

When you are losing, never give up. That day when I had that game,  I learned an important skill. That skill is perseverance. When I was losing in that game I didn’t quit; I tried even harder.  Trying harder ended up with us winning. Always push yourself and never quit.

 

 

-Tommy

 

Have you ever done something on impulse and ended up regretting it later? I’ve certainly done that before. There is a saying, “think before you speak,” which ends up important for any situation. Because I didn’t think something through, I ended up embarrassing myself and others.

How had I even got into this situation in the first place? How had I agreed to this without a second thought? Yet here I was, simply observing as cars approached from all directions, people honking and hollering in confusion, two of my friends hurriedly trying to cross the road without being absolutely obliterated by cars. Yeah, all I wanted to do was restart the day over again without agreeing to this absolutely bonkers bike ride.

It all started on a languid August afternoon. I was traversing a creek with two of my close friends at the time, Amanda and Adele. Well.... it was more like they were. Knelt on a large coarse rock, I attempted to fling a shiny pebble to the other side of the creek.  I observed the pebble soar through the air and then promptly land smack-dab in the middle of the creek with a plop.  I tried again.  My mind started to wander. By the time I had flung the most-likely thirteenth pebble onto the other side of the creek, I felt a knock on my shoulder. Turns out that while I was distracted Amanda and Adele decided they were going to try and bike to a tea shop -- on a main road. They were also apparently bringing Adele’s little sister, Irene. Alarm bells started ringing in my head at the thought. I should have known better considering I’ve only biked on main roads with my mom. They did say that we would take back roads that were safe.  But I had to lend my bike to my sister in 40 minutes, and I had a reunion with my friends from elementary school too. Yet I shoved those thoughts aside for the sake of why not?

Even before we got to the intersection everything had started to go downhill. We managed to get out of our neighborhood and passed the gas station before we met our first hiccup. After 20 minutes of riding through countless neighborhoods that took us nowhere, Amanda realized that the GPS we were using wasn’t all that accurate. We based the time it would take us to get there by car distance! Then we realized that it was already two fifty-six --holy moly. I had to get my bike back to my sister in fifteen minutes, my goodness!  We realized that it was entirely impossible to make it to the tea shop altogether.  We had to make a decision: do we continue to persevere through this ultimately meaningless journey or just go home? We decided on the latter. Now even as comedic as I make this sound,  I was actually exhausted to the point where I literally didn’t care anymore. I just wanted to go home and never think of this again. If only I had known it would get so much worse.

Back to where we are now. Completely ignoring Irene's rising panic, Amanda wiped a bead off her chin and looked both ways before whispering in Irene’s ear to go. Then with an indescribable look on her face, she hightailed it out of there with Irene in-tow. Taking Amanda's example, Adele peddled her bike faster than I’d ever witnessed before, shouted at me to come with her and took off. I was feeling so many emotions at that point in time I didn’t know what else to do, so I skedaddled along with them.

Once we had gotten back to the safety of our neighborhood I took a moment to collect my bearings. Honestly, the only thing I could think was that I was so done. Just by making one decision my delightful morning and early afternoon had figuratively crashed and burned. Everyone was silent now. The only noise heard being the pitiful squeaks of my bike, who seemed equally as exhausted as I was, and the occasional  skittering of rocks.

“Well, that didn’t go so well.” With one sentence, the tense silence spell broke and everyone started…. laughing? I didn’t get why they were so happy all of a sudden. I was still extremely embarrassed and had assumed they were too. Everyone started chatting, but I was too frazzled to even get a word out. They proposed that we should go again, and that’s when I started fuming. Now, I consider myself a generally calm person; that was crossing the line though. I scavenged my brain for some semblance of a reason why? How they could have possibly wanted to go through what felt like utter torture to me? I kept my thoughts to myself, but I could feel all of my anger and bewilderment festering together inside me, waiting to be released.

I calmed down once I got home, but I was much more frustrated with myself and the circumstances than I am with them now. I shouldn't have gone along with their idea. I mean, we were twelve for goodness sake! We were way too young to go on adventures like that in the first place. Yet I know I can’t change the past, but at least I now know when not to go along with an idea with which I don’t agree. Hopefully you can learn from my experience. When making any decision, you should always think it through and not go along with something unless you actually agree with it.

 

 

-Hannah