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“If you don’t take risks, you can’t do anything in life.” I have grown very accustomed to this statement. Every day when I crawl out of bed, the first words out of my parents’ mouths aren’t the usual “good morning” or the common expression “how did you sleep last night.” Instead, the early morning air is filled with miniature lectures persuading me to be more proactive and take more risks in school. My parents thought that I would benefit tremendously if I were more outgoing. However, this was a problem.

Flashback. I am four years old living in a small town located in Shenyang, China. Growing up, I had a pretty happy childhood, until I found out something was neurologically wrong with me. This all began when my grandfather noticed that I stuttered. One day, he decided to take me to the family doctor. The doctor asked my grandfather “was your grandson born with a dominant right hand or left hand?” My grandfather immediately responds “he was born with a dominant left hand, but over the years I made him switch his dominant hand to his right.” After this statement, the doctor’s immediate diagnosis was that my stuttering was the result of switching my dominant hand, eventually affecting my motor skills.

Fast-forward. I am currently a freshman attending Brooklyn Technical High School. At school, I would fear to speak with my fellow classmates, and I certainly did not participate in class. However, my life changed drastically when I was introduced to Tech’s debate team during my sophomore year. Immediately, the debate coach, Mr. Adam Stevens, began to work on my stuttering by doing numerous speaking drills and different techniques to increase the clarity of my speech. The following weekend, I signed up for a small regional debate tournament.

In no time, the debate tournament had arrived and my coach, Mr. Stevens, thought that by debating, I could minimize my stuttering. The first debate round was about to take place, so I prepared myself for the best possible outcome. However, nothing in that round had truly displayed my recently sharpened speaking abilities. I continued to stutter heavily, and gave up in the middle of the round. After I shook hands with the judge and my fellow debater, I burst out of the room in humiliation and anger, and headed towards the huge bolted door with the bright EXIT sign above it. At that moment, my parents’ voices echoed the words “If you don’t take risks, you can’t do anything in life.” I quickly turned and marched back into the next debate round, telling myself without taking a little risk I can never overcome the disease that is my stuttering.

Fast-forward. It is currently my freshman year at Baruch College, and I barely stutter thanks to Mr. Stevens and some risk taking. Life is wonderful.