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| The safest way is not always most rewarding |
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by Joseph Blocher
THE CRANE pointed up into the sky like a beckoning finger, daring all prospective bungee jumpers to climb its swaying heights. The sign on the rusted gate said, "Jump at your own risk," but people lined up around the block anyway. Throwing caution to the wind and $20 to the guy in the booth, I joined their solemn ranks. The five-story march to the top of the crane was agonizingly slow, and my time actually suspended in the air was over in what seemed like a second. When I got to the ground -- leaving my screams somewhere up near the top of the crane -- I took a look at the cord from which I had been dangling. It was ripped nearly in half. Looking back on it, I suppose I should say, "I'm lucky to be alive. I won't take a chance like that again." My mother would appreciate that attitude, I'm sure. But the fact is, I'm not sorry that I jumped, and, given the opportunity, I would do it again. There was obviously a chance that I could hurt myself or do worse while jumping, but the payoff -- the adrenaline rush that lasted into the next week and the sense of accomplishment that came from overcoming my fears -- was well worth the risk. I certainly could have stayed on the ground watching and avoided any personal danger, but I would have missed the rewards, too. Bungee-jumping, of course, is not for everyone, but flinging yourself off of a five-story structure is not the only way to take a chance. At Rice, students are confronted with risks every day. Most of us generally take the safest way out -- the way with the least chance for failure. Unfortunately, the path of least risk is also usually the path of least reward. Anyone can sit down for an hour and grind out a decent paper on an acceptable subject that most everyone agrees on and get a solid B on it. But where is the reward? The real thinking comes in when writing a paper on a topic that no one else has considered before, or in taking a position that challenges what people know about the subject. Not athletically inclined? Take a risk, and sign up for an intramural sport or two. You might get annihilated when you try to play, but then again, you may turn out to be a badminton prodigy. It is probably possible to plod your way through Rice without ever setting yourself up for a potentially major failure. People do it here, just as they do at any other school, and then go on to get mediocre jobs and lead average, uninteresting lives, where the highs are moderate and the lows are not all that bad. Then there are those who put it on the line every once in a while, maybe by taking a chance with a philosophy class that could be over their heads or even just risking face to learn how to kicker dance. Members of this second group will have to chalk up some heavier losses -- they may step all over somebody's feet at their first kicker party -- but they will also be able to count up higher successes -- that partner with the sore feet may also turn out to be a lifelong friend. Either way, nothing is going to happen to the person who sits in his room with the TV on and books open all day. He may not suffer the same let-downs as his risk-taking partner, but he will not experience the same rushes of success either. If you're out near the Ley Student Center next week, and you see a small figure dangling from the top of the bell tower with a bungee cord tied to its feet, that'll be me. Unfortunately, you won't be able to see me from your room.
This item appeared in the Opinion section of the October 17, 1997 issue. |
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