Non-Academic Engagement

While failure and difficulty at their core are solitary experiences, humans tend to let their environment play a bigger role than it has a right to play. Environments that we let hold us back can be anything, including demanding tasks put in our paths and other people who unjustifiably work toward our failure instead of against it. Everyone eventually encounters something of this degree of difficulty and someone of this deleterious character in their life, and even though the task is not affected by us at all and the perpetrator might forget about it within days, human nature can lead the victims to carrying these setbacks around long after it should still be affecting them. Refusing to let other people's words or the difficulty of circumstances

lead to failure is necessary to anyone who wishes to achieve something in a world that can veer in a negative direction and, because of the importance of the message and the painful way I learned it, this lesson has been one of the most meaningful I’ve learned.
From first grade forward, my most important non-academic engagement was basketball.

I spent fifth through eighth grade at a small private school, so making the team would not be considered a competitive process. No one had ever been cut from the team, and instead, we often had to combine grade levels in order to have enough players to qualify. Despite the fact that simply joining and being a body on the bench was important at our school, I worked as hard as I could to be a vital member of the team. In seventh grade, we had an overwhelming three players on our team, which resulted in us combining with the eighth graders to form one team. My work ethic kicked in and I earned as much playing time as I could for much of the team being older and taller. Consequently, I gained substantial confidence in my skills and hard work when I was called in to the game specifically when we needed our best

defense.
It was perhaps this falsely concocted sense of self-assurance that lead me to such a hard fall.

While being a moderately proficient player on a tiny, parochial-conference team seemed like an accomplishment to me, nothing at such a small school could have prepared me for the competitive environment of a public school with thousands of students. When I attended the summer basketball program at the local high school the summer before eighth grade, I was ill-prepared. The girls were more athletic, more talented, and more numerous than I had any idea to expect. My supposed skills paled in comparison and I became a bench warmer next to a girl who was only there because her sister was on the varsity team.

The only thing that could make my internal disappointment more painful was the disapproval I received from girls who were my peers grade-wise but far superior to me when it came to capability. One girl specifically had singled me out as the bottom of the food chain, and it felt to an emotional, preteen me that it was her personal goal of the summer sessions to comment derisively every time I made a mistake. She refused to pass to me during games, mockingly questioned whether I belonged in a lower grade level, and laughed openly at me every time she managed to lap me during speed

drills.
The physical exertion expected of me was harder than I was used to, but listening to someone who was supposed to be my equal and my teammate disparage me was unbearable. I spent many portions of the practices hiding in the bathroom, and all my time that summer that wasn't spent in the gym was utilized solely to dread tomorrow's game or practice.
After what felt like an eternity of torture to my dramatic twelve year old self, the program was over. I was no longer shackled to the process of being berated and taunted every day of my summer, and I have never known relief quite like it. I continued with basketball at my final year at my smaller school, but I chose not to pursue it when I got to the public high school out of pure fear that I would experience anything remotely similar to that summer. As I started my freshman year, I even dreaded finding out if the girl who had been the bane of my existence that summer was in one of my classes.
As freshman year wore on and I began to truly miss what was once my favorite hobby, I contemplated whether I had made the right choice. Did someone else have the right to take away what I enjoyed simply because I hadn’t acquired all the skills yet? I came to the conclusion that should have been obvious from the start: no. It was too late for basketball particularly by the time I came to this understanding; I was too out of shape and unpracticed. The lesson, however, has been meaningful enough to me beyond a singular instance of losing a hobby. When the challenge rises above my current skill level, I do not succumb to failure. High expectations mixed with inability is not a reason to give up, but an opportunity to grow. Those who attempt to tear others down should only serve as more motivation. I cannot, and now, do not, let new challenges or negative people take opportunities from me.