Just Do It -- A Memoir

Just Do It

I don't know why I wanted to do this. I mean, it's an honor--you know, to teach the children's class. I've been wanting this; a second chance... to prove to my father that I am a natural born leader. It's just that now, as I wearily eye the shiny, black-rimmed clock on the far side of the room, fear of failure rises in the back of my mind. I can feel the weight of my stomach getting heavier, and heavier still; and the lump in the back of my throat forming. Not knowing how to cope with my anxiety , I glanced hesitantly beside me, where my friend, Jessi, was standing.

She rocked on the heel of her foot to her toes, her long, wavy, brown hair swaying in her tight ponytail. She looks happy, as always, a broad smile spread across her face as she tried to contain her excitement. Jessi's happiness looked out of place compared to my nervous wreck.

"Jessi," my voice sounds no more than an airy whisper. My friend turns to me, pushing her frizzy ponytail behind her shoulders. As I expected, she smiles reassuringly at me, as if there isn't anything in the world to worry about. Everytime she looks at me like that, the song Hakuna Matata from the Lion King starts playing silently in my head. I wished now that I was in a jungle, far, far away from my fears of teaching. Jessi shakes her head at me when she notices my anxiousness.

That's one of the things I love about her, though. She can calm any of the storms that I conduct in my head.

"I-I'm really nervous," I stammer, tightening the red belt at my waist. I look down at the ground, knowing that I probably sound like a baby. Tears swell in my eyes, and they threaten to come pouring out at any moment. I grimace. "I don't think I want to do this anymore."

"It's alright, Moonwhisper ," Jessi holds my gaze with determination. "Remember what God says about worrying?" By setting my hand upon her shoulder, I can feel that she was nervous too. She just handles it different than I. "The Bible says, 'Do not be afraid, for the Lord your God will be with you always.' So, that means don't worry."

"Yes-- I know, but Jessi--,"

"But Moonwhisper." She squeezes my own shoulder and then lets it go.
I look up at her, almost ready to cry. I don't usually get emotional like this, but something about this moment seems worthy of crying about. I want to go home and bury my face in the huge bear I have at the edge of my bed, then huddle in my soft Assassin's Creed blanket and read the Lord of the Rings. But I know that I have to do this, for my father, for Jessi, for my karate school, and for me. I wish with all my might that I could just walk in front of the class like Justin, probably one of my closest friends, does, and act like it doesn't phase me.

But it does.

"Don't cry about it," Jessi whispered. "You're stronger than this. If you can break five boards in eleven seconds, the least you can do is teach a dumb little kids' class."

I sniffed. "That's completely different."

"Does it matter? Just do it!"

I sucked in and held my breath, unsure how to respond. I looked down at my karate uniform, making sure everything was straight and as it should be. I pulled at my belt again, rubbing it's soft edges. I worked hard to get this, I thought, searching for courage deep in my heart. I needed to do this for myself, Jessi, my dad, and Justin.
I WILL make my father proud.

"You know what, Jessi?" I sputtered.

"What?" She looked at me, eyes wide, as if she were surprised by my tone of voice.

"I'm just gonna do it. For you." I smiled weakly. Jessi grinned back, but her response was interrupted. I turned toward the rest of the room, and observed what was happening. My father, the sensei, was standing in the front center of the room. His little students gazed up at him from across the dojo, where their parents sat in foldable metal chairs. I know it sounds ridiculous now, but at the time, I thought they were watching me.