Should I try it? What if I don’t like it? What if it’s terrible? The questions all arise when we face a challenge—the challenge of trying. New things can be fascinating or enticing, but they can also be alarming, intimidating, or just not to our taste. This is when I tried something that I didn’t really like at first glance but then found to be wonderful.

       The sun gaily glinted through the glass, warming my face and the car seat beneath me. I stared avidly out the window. Trees and plants zipped by briskly, like bees chasing a flower. Buildings stood high like armed guards. In a car seat beside me lay my baby brother, eyes closed, chest rising and falling. My mom and dad were in the front seats talking some boring adult talk. I asked my mom where we were going, and she replied that we were going to meet my class and teacher for a field trip. I returned to the window. We soon pulled up to a hugely gigantic building. This building was dark gray, light gray, and shades of gray I don’t even know. Frankly, it looked like a giant slab of concrete. We entered the giant slab-of-concrete building, and my parents started talking to some people. I didn’t know what they were talking about, and I didn’t care to find out. My surroundings deserved more attention. 

       The room we were in was substantial. Huge fluorescent lights glared boldly from the ceiling like the stare of a defiant kid. The floor was constructed of trampolines of all different sizes; they were outlined with vivid neon stripes of color. There were also giant holes filled with foam cubes. The cubes of foam were chipped and worn like an old mattress, and some had pieces missing from being played in and jumped on for years. At last, my parents finished their boring talk, and we went and met my Pre-K teacher. She explained about this field trip and said to have fun. Smile wide, face ecstatic, my mom led me to a trampoline. Of course, I had no idea it was called a trampoline because I was four years old, and my brain didn’t have a very prodigious understanding of the word trampoline. I just called it a strange bouncy thing. 

       So there I was, on the strange bouncy thing, with my mom, wondering what would transpire next. “Jump,” my mom urged me eagerly, holding my hand. What? Jump? Why? I don’t entirely know why, but I was kind of scared to jump. My mom held both of my hands in hers confidently. We started to bounce. The floor beneath me started to move. My stomach curled up and tied itself up into a stiff knot. I forced myself to breathe. I don’t know about my mom, but I didn’t like suddenly bouncing and having the floor writhe beneath me without knowing what was going on or what the thing was called. Knees trembling, heart pumping, I so bravely declared, “Can I get off now?” 

       After I tried the trampoline, I got off and didn’t set foot on it for a while. But I gradually grew more interested because I had nothing to do except watch, and I desired to try the strange bouncy thing yet again. Ergo, I went again, and this time, yes this time, I decided I liked it, and I went again and more times than I could count. Consequently, I had wasted my time not going on a trampoline because when I did want to go on a trampoline, pretty soon it was time to go home.

       That day, I was negligent in understanding the lesson that was learned during this series of somewhat aberrant events. However, as I look back, I realize that the series of somewhat aberrant events taught me a very imperative lesson. I learned to try new things. Beyond that, I learned that some things may not be as expected. New things, when introduced, may seem fascinating or enticing, but they may also seem alarming or intimidating, or just not appealing. Either way, it’s better to try something new rather than not trying at all because the outcome may shock you.

-Mili P.