Amy Franklin, Teacher
(American International School in Kuwait)
I recently found myself flying on a trapeze in the middle of New York City. I learned something very important while dangling 20 feet in the air with sweaty palms, pounding heart, and chattering knees. Swinging on a trapeze for the first time is a perfect metaphor for stepping into a classroom for the first time. I stepped onto a tall ladder and started my way up.
"Nervous" has never been such an understatement! I kept thinking I would fall to my death before I even attempted the stunt. The breeze felt gale force; the drizzle felt torrential; the chill felt arctic. When I reached the top rung of the ladder, I was too scared to pull myself onto the platform. I kept thinking about how embarrassing it would be for the FDNY to come to my rescue.
A bodhisattva waited for me on top of a tiny platform, which was no wider than a couple of 2 x 4 put together. He urged me to smear chalk on my hands; it would soak up the sweat and other negative thoughts oozing through my pores. I steadied myself to dip both hands into the chalk bag. The bodhisattva looked at me; his eyes were the color of emeralds displayed on a mossy stone amidst a rainforest. He looked at me, penetrating my soul and encouraged deep breaths...to center myself...to find my focus.
He had me reach and hold a bar to my left to secure my balance. Then he directed me to the edge of the tiny platform and told me to step 3 quarters off of it; I would have to balance by my heels. He captured the trapeze bar and released it to me. It was so heavy that I immediately lost my balance and let go of it.
My heart was pounding like a concert of jim-bay drums. My stomach was knotted up like a sailor's nightmare. Chalk dripped off my palms. My conscience was having a breakdown.
The instructor yelled "HEP!" but I couldn't jump. It was the anxiety of not knowing what was going to happen when I made the jump.
The instructor yelled "HEP!" but I couldn't jump. It was the anxiety of imminent death or severe pain.
The instructor yelled "HEP!" but I couldn't jump. It was the anxiety of losing myself forever.
The instructor yelled "HEP!" and I jumped! It was the determination not to fail.
Instantaneously, I found myself sailing through the air - smiling so brightly I could have lit up all of NYC on that dark and dreary day. I pendulated back and forth like a paradisiacal hammock; nothing existed except the sheer joy of accomplishment.
All it took was that first jump. That's all it took! I feel that my experience of flying on a trapeze for the first time is a perfect metaphor for the first time I step into a classroom to teach. It seems like a cliché, but it really does come down to taking that first step...first jump...first dive...first plunge into a scary situation - embracing the accomplishment and relishing the moment of glory. Because after that first jump the only thing left to do is...swing...swing...swing!
