The only time I ever went skiing was a terrifying affair. I was a master on the levelled bunny hills, but the deceivingly named “family hill” was my kryptonite. No one told me how to zig and zag, how to turn, or even how to stop. This is because I had no lesson other than “GO!” Much to my chagrin, I nearly fell to my death off a rocky cliff while snow caked up my jacket. Thankfully, a pair of eight-year-olds expertly glided over to help me up.
I digress. My point is, this fourth grader’s courage is enough to make me try my inexpert hand at skiing once again. It’s her very first ski jump and you can tell she’s afraid, but she manages to pull through and she’s rightfully proud at the end.