This I Believe
From the day I was born, I have experienced life moments that have shaped me into who I am today. Some of these moments are unique to me; others are quite the opposite. I speak confidently when I say that everyone has felt the sting of being bullied, the triumph of riding that bike down the street, the disappointment of that first failed test, and the regret of telling a little white lie. But what makes me, me? When I first thought about how to answer that age old question, I felt a little overwhelmed. There have been many successes and even more failures; I have met several people that have impacted me; I have felt loss more times than I would like, and I have taken part in countless activities that I feel have changed me. However, as I sit here typing a reflection, I am forced to do just that, reflect.
I have earned my fair share of certificates, trophies, and medals; but never in my life have I felt more proud of myself than the day that a simple number on a bulletin board was changed to 1:52.52. Throughout my years on the high school swim team, I had grown especially close to three girls. Together, we made up the A team for the 200 Medley, 200 Freestyle, and 400 Freestyle relays. Towards the end of my junior year, our coach sat us down and told us that we had a serious chance at breaking the school record the following year. He promised us that he could guide our relay to success and that all he needed to hear us say was that we wanted it and that we were willing to go the extra mile for it. He stuck to his word; that year, we trained further, we swam faster, and we worked harder than I thought possible. The day we broke the first school record was arguably the happiest and most exciting day of my life. Our “dream team” went on to break two more school records by the end of the season, but none of it would have been possible without our coach, our commitment, and our drive. I learned more about myself that season than with any other experience.
All throughout high school I had been more or less a typical student. I went to class, got good grades, played a couple sports, and participated in a few different clubs. I was not a wallflower, but I did not exactly stand out from the crowd either. I was never particularly goal oriented or highly motivated to get things done; but all that changed once our relay team started making real progress. With each practice, I found myself asking, “Do I really want this? Is this pain even worth it?” And with each passing day, I found myself back in the water again, pushing through it. The road was definitely rocky; some days I found myself simply going through the motions, without an ounce of willpower left in me, but other days, I surprised myself. People are always saying the clichés, “Hard work pays off,” “Practice makes perfect,” “No pain, no gain, “When there’s a will, there’s a way.” I learned that the reason those sayings are cliché is because they are true and they do apply to life. At times during the season I was so physically and mentally exhausted that breaking the record seemed like a pointless dream, but in the end, I knew I had to find it within me to get back up and keep on fighting.
Swimming helped me make full use of my potential. It taught me a valuable lesson in that I would get out what I put in. I learned how important it was to have strong support team; I learned that overcoming a physical obstacle is more a mental process over anything; furthermore, I learned that the only thing that could truly hold me back was me. Although I cannot honestly say that I have physically worked harder or been more motivated than I was that season, the life lessons that I gained from the experience are something that I do try to apply to everyday life. Whenever I need a reminder of my potential, I just need to see that record board and that sense of overwhelming accomplishment comes flooding back.
Life is not just about the ups though, the downs are equally important, as I have learned on more than one occasion. One experience I had my junior year was particularly terrible, but it is one I’ll remember for the rest of my life. Piano playing has always been a part of my life. I started at a young age and I never once really asked myself if I actually enjoyed it. Up until then, I would dedicate an hour or so a day to practice, attend weekly lessons with my teacher, play in competitions and performances, and make progress every year. In retrospect, I realize that I never really loved playing the piano, even though I dedicated thirteen years of my life to it. My teacher and mom never really asked me my opinion about it either; they just assumed I was passionate for it. I would have to say though that I am partly to blame for that; mostly because I never bothered to share my opinion. Practicing was simply just an obligation, similar to doing my homework and brushing my teeth. My mom would pay for the lessons, I would learn the new notes and perform the pieces; it was as simple as that.
It was not until high school that my piano practice time began decreasing, which in turn led to a deterioration of my progress. Looking back, the decrease in practice was most likely due to a number of factors; number one being my mom working full time again. Prior to high school, my mom was always there telling me and my brothers what to do and making sure we were on top of things. It was comparable to a teacher and a class of students. When the teacher is in the room, the students are well behaved and quietly doing their work. Once the teacher leaves the room however, whispers turn into chatter and effective time usage goes out the window. When my mom started working, she was no longer there to push us; as a result, I started slacking. Without anyone watching over me, I lacked the motivation to try hard and be productive with my day. I would get home from school, put off my school work until after dinner, leaving no time at the end of the day to dedicate to piano practice. The lack of practice was not significant at first however; I always managed to squeeze in some extra hours the day before a lesson. The habit was not to last long though, as I soon learned the hard way what half-assed work produced.
As performance day drew nearer and nearer, I began to realized how unprepared I truly was. Towards the end, I was scrambling to fulfill the requirements, to memorize the pieces, and perfect the techniques; but there was not enough time. Long story short, my junior recital was an absolute mess. Although the audience did not know what all I was truly capable of, my teacher, my mom, and I, myself, knew; and that’s what hurt the most. Knowing my full potential and not being able to reach it was one of the worst feelings I had ever felt. The anger from my mom, the disappointment from my teacher; all those negative feeling culminated into one of the most embarrassing experiences of my life. I told myself from that day forward, that I never wanted to cause that amount of disappointment in anybody ever again. It was one thing for my mom to be disappointed, but honestly, that was not a new feeling to me. To have my piano teacher be disappointed in me though was heart wrenching. In that moment, there was nothing I wanted to do more than have a do-over. I wanted to rewind and try again, but of course, that was wishing for the impossible.
I learned that day that half-assing could only take me so far. I might have managed to just get by; but in the end, when it truly mattered, I had nothing to show. Success is something to be earned through hard work, there are no shortcuts. That experience taught me to appreciate what others do for me; it taught me to make full use of the hours in a day; I learned to not waste a talent; and I developed an important sense of self-worth and self-respect. The biggest take home lesson though was that life goes on, it does not wait. Whenever I was wasting time and dawdling around, I was not thinking about other people and the world around me. While I was doing nothing, the world was not stopping. At the last minute when I realized that performance day had arrived, the hours in a day did not increase to allow me more practice time; time continued to pass. It was a mistake I made sure never to repeat again.
I have earned my fair share of certificates, trophies, and medals; but never in my life have I felt more proud of myself than the day that a simple number on a bulletin board was changed to 1:52.52. Throughout my years on the high school swim team, I had grown especially close to three girls. Together, we made up the A team for the 200 Medley, 200 Freestyle, and 400 Freestyle relays. Towards the end of my junior year, our coach sat us down and told us that we had a serious chance at breaking the school record the following year. He promised us that he could guide our relay to success and that all he needed to hear us say was that we wanted it and that we were willing to go the extra mile for it. He stuck to his word; that year, we trained further, we swam faster, and we worked harder than I thought possible. The day we broke the first school record was arguably the happiest and most exciting day of my life. Our “dream team” went on to break two more school records by the end of the season, but none of it would have been possible without our coach, our commitment, and our drive. I learned more about myself that season than with any other experience.
All throughout high school I had been more or less a typical student. I went to class, got good grades, played a couple sports, and participated in a few different clubs. I was not a wallflower, but I did not exactly stand out from the crowd either. I was never particularly goal oriented or highly motivated to get things done; but all that changed once our relay team started making real progress. With each practice, I found myself asking, “Do I really want this? Is this pain even worth it?” And with each passing day, I found myself back in the water again, pushing through it. The road was definitely rocky; some days I found myself simply going through the motions, without an ounce of willpower left in me, but other days, I surprised myself. People are always saying the clichés, “Hard work pays off,” “Practice makes perfect,” “No pain, no gain, “When there’s a will, there’s a way.” I learned that the reason those sayings are cliché is because they are true and they do apply to life. At times during the season I was so physically and mentally exhausted that breaking the record seemed like a pointless dream, but in the end, I knew I had to find it within me to get back up and keep on fighting.
Swimming helped me make full use of my potential. It taught me a valuable lesson in that I would get out what I put in. I learned how important it was to have strong support team; I learned that overcoming a physical obstacle is more a mental process over anything; furthermore, I learned that the only thing that could truly hold me back was me. Although I cannot honestly say that I have physically worked harder or been more motivated than I was that season, the life lessons that I gained from the experience are something that I do try to apply to everyday life. Whenever I need a reminder of my potential, I just need to see that record board and that sense of overwhelming accomplishment comes flooding back.
Life is not just about the ups though, the downs are equally important, as I have learned on more than one occasion. One experience I had my junior year was particularly terrible, but it is one I’ll remember for the rest of my life. Piano playing has always been a part of my life. I started at a young age and I never once really asked myself if I actually enjoyed it. Up until then, I would dedicate an hour or so a day to practice, attend weekly lessons with my teacher, play in competitions and performances, and make progress every year. In retrospect, I realize that I never really loved playing the piano, even though I dedicated thirteen years of my life to it. My teacher and mom never really asked me my opinion about it either; they just assumed I was passionate for it. I would have to say though that I am partly to blame for that; mostly because I never bothered to share my opinion. Practicing was simply just an obligation, similar to doing my homework and brushing my teeth. My mom would pay for the lessons, I would learn the new notes and perform the pieces; it was as simple as that.
It was not until high school that my piano practice time began decreasing, which in turn led to a deterioration of my progress. Looking back, the decrease in practice was most likely due to a number of factors; number one being my mom working full time again. Prior to high school, my mom was always there telling me and my brothers what to do and making sure we were on top of things. It was comparable to a teacher and a class of students. When the teacher is in the room, the students are well behaved and quietly doing their work. Once the teacher leaves the room however, whispers turn into chatter and effective time usage goes out the window. When my mom started working, she was no longer there to push us; as a result, I started slacking. Without anyone watching over me, I lacked the motivation to try hard and be productive with my day. I would get home from school, put off my school work until after dinner, leaving no time at the end of the day to dedicate to piano practice. The lack of practice was not significant at first however; I always managed to squeeze in some extra hours the day before a lesson. The habit was not to last long though, as I soon learned the hard way what half-assed work produced.
As performance day drew nearer and nearer, I began to realized how unprepared I truly was. Towards the end, I was scrambling to fulfill the requirements, to memorize the pieces, and perfect the techniques; but there was not enough time. Long story short, my junior recital was an absolute mess. Although the audience did not know what all I was truly capable of, my teacher, my mom, and I, myself, knew; and that’s what hurt the most. Knowing my full potential and not being able to reach it was one of the worst feelings I had ever felt. The anger from my mom, the disappointment from my teacher; all those negative feeling culminated into one of the most embarrassing experiences of my life. I told myself from that day forward, that I never wanted to cause that amount of disappointment in anybody ever again. It was one thing for my mom to be disappointed, but honestly, that was not a new feeling to me. To have my piano teacher be disappointed in me though was heart wrenching. In that moment, there was nothing I wanted to do more than have a do-over. I wanted to rewind and try again, but of course, that was wishing for the impossible.
I learned that day that half-assing could only take me so far. I might have managed to just get by; but in the end, when it truly mattered, I had nothing to show. Success is something to be earned through hard work, there are no shortcuts. That experience taught me to appreciate what others do for me; it taught me to make full use of the hours in a day; I learned to not waste a talent; and I developed an important sense of self-worth and self-respect. The biggest take home lesson though was that life goes on, it does not wait. Whenever I was wasting time and dawdling around, I was not thinking about other people and the world around me. While I was doing nothing, the world was not stopping. At the last minute when I realized that performance day had arrived, the hours in a day did not increase to allow me more practice time; time continued to pass. It was a mistake I made sure never to repeat again.