Sometimes opportunities emerge, and we find ourselves at a crossroads.  Should we jump in and try learning something new, even if it makes us look foolish, or should we simply sit on the sidelines as a watchful observer? I had a chance to make this decision one night, about a month ago, at the home of one of my teachers, Mr. Welch. A group of students from mock trial gathered at his home for an evening of fun and socializing.  
 While waiting for dinner on this crisp fall night, everyone at Mr. Welch’s house jumped joyously on his back yard trampoline. People performed various tricks while I, knowing no tricks, sat by and watched. After about half an hour of jumping, Mrs. Welch called us in for dinner, so we quickly ran inside.      Later that evening, Mr. Welch, Nolen, Nate, and I slipped outside to enjoy more time on the trampoline. After Mr. Welch demonstrated and explained the simple flip, Nate mounted the trampoline.  He jumped, performed some tricks, and practiced some of the techniques that Mr. Welch had demonstrated.  My turn appeared before me like an artist’s empty  canvas, the option of success or failure lay before me. After taking a few bounces, I said to myself, “all or nothing,” a proverbial first bold brushstroke on the canvas.  As I leaped into the air, it occurred to me that in my enthusiasm, I had momentarily forgotten my recent lesson.  This proved unfortunate.  I did not tuck in, nor did I get enough rotation, ending my flip in a rough face plant on the center of the trampoline.  Time moved in slow motion as each vertebrae in my back jolted out of place.  I quickly returned to my feet, looked around to make sure no one else noticed my epic failure of a flip, took a few pointers from Mr. Welch, threw my pride out the window, and started again with fresh confidence.  I jumped, followed every step, and landed off-balance on my feet and then fell over.   An undefined shape appeared on the canvas.  After three more tries, I followed each step to a tee and landed the flip with ease.  I performed a few flips and leaped from the trampoline feeling confident of my new found skill.      Thus ended a humiliating, painful, and somewhat expensive time, considering all the chiropractic appointments to follow, in the backyard of Mr. Welch.  I finished the painting, not a masterpiece, but an “earlier work.”
 Although a few rough spots occured along the way, this experience really showed me  that I need to try things even if I do not know what will happen in the end. Success often comes after failure and much practice.