Opportunity, Hard Work, and Success Theme Analysis

“My son,” he said with a saddened heart, “your friend is right. I heard there is a much bigger world up there, with many more stars than we can see from here.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about it earlier?” the little frog asked.

“What’s the use? Your destiny is down here in the well. There is no way for you to get out of here,” the father frog replied.

The little frog said, “I can, I can get out of here. Let me show you!” […]

“No use, my son. I’ve tried all my life and so did your forefathers. Forget the world above. Be satisfied with what you have, or it will cause you such misery in life.”

[The] poor little frog spent his life trying to escape the well […] but he couldn’t. The big world above remained only a dream.

I was always fascinated with birds when I was a child. I would watch them and daydream. I admired their gracefulness and envied their freedom. I wished for wings so I too could fly out of this harsh life. I wished to speak their language, to ask them what it felt like, flying so high. I wondered which god to ask or indeed if there was such a god who had the power to transform humans into animals. But then I also thought of the constant danger of being shot down by humans or eaten by larger animals. And the birds never seemed to have enough food to eat, either, because they were constantly nibbling on human feces. Without food, life as a bird might not have been much better than life as a human. And if I became a bird, I would not see my family again.

I watched a few of the students being tested before me, and they cried out and winced. One of the officials came over to me and bent both of my legs outward. Another official held my shoulders to stabilize me and a third pushed his knee against my lower back, at the same time pulling both my knees backward with great force to test the turnout of my hip joints. It was so painful it felt like everything would break at once. I wanted to scream as well, but for some reason I didn’t. I had a stubborn thought: I didn’t want to lose my dignity, I didn’t want to lose my pride. And I clenched my teeth.

“Keep your knee straight!” He pushed my knee down on the barre. “Now I want you to bend your body forward and try to touch your toes with your head. Stay down there! Don’t’ get up until I tell you to do so!” Gao ordered.

The pain was excruciating and was increasing at an alarming rate.

“Didn’t you hear me, keep your knees straight!” Gao shouted at Zhu Yaoping […]. “Keep your head down!” he told Fu Xijun […].

My right leg was now in such pain that I had trouble even lifting it off the barre. I quickly glanced at the other students. I wasn’t the only one suffering.

When I lifted my other leg onto the barre, I knew what to expect this time. So I started to count. I wondered if I was the only one […] until I heard the boy next to me counting too.

Inside the envelope I found the most beautiful fountain pen. It was a deep royal blue, my favorite color. I could tell it was an expensive one. It would have cost my dia at least two yuan.

“I hope you will use it every day,” my dia said, “and every time you use it, you will remember your parents and our expectations of you. I don’t know what grades your classmates have received, but I hope you will come home with better grades next year. Don’t let us down. Let us be proud.”

I had expected my parents to talk to me about my poor grades. I had expected harsher words. But that pen, and the few words my dia said then, caused bigger waves inside me than any accusations could ever bring. He didn’t blame me. He didn’t accuse me, but I felt I had let him and my whole family down.

I knew now, with sudden shock, that I could never go back to the life I used to have. […] This trip home had once and for all stripped off the fantasy of the ideal countryside life I’d always thought was possible. What my second brother was going through in his mind was far worse than the lack of food, the starvation. His soul was dying. If I hadn’t gotten out I too would have faced the same fate.

[…] I thought about the year ahead. I was looking forward to the challenges. A mysterious voice sounded in my ears: “Cunxin, you are privileged. You are lucky. Go forward. Don’t be afraid and don’t look back. There is nothing back there, only your family’s unconditional love and that will always propel you forward.”

[…] This voice was my own.

I limbered my legs on the barre and started to practice. After a number of fruitless tries I suddenly discovered something. Even before I started jumping into the split, my hands were already subconsciously preparing to protect me. My lack of self-confidence didn’t give my body a chance. So I tried putting hands behind my head when jumping into the split. My body kept falling to the side, so I turned my front leg out and my balance was corrected. Next I turned my attention to bouncing up from the split position without using my hands. This was far more difficult to overcome.

[…]I held onto the barre with both hands and did my split jumps underneath. At first, I used my arms to pull me up from the split position. Eventually […] I discovered which muscles in my legs were useful […] I had made my breakthrough.

“Cunxin, nothing is impossible for a determined human being. Physical imperfections are easier to overcome than mental deficiencies. Remember the bow-shooter fable?” he said. “Nothing is impossible if you put your heart and soul into it! Let’s make your family proud! Become a good dancer, the greatest dancer you can be. Starting next year, I expect to see nothing less than the best from you.”

It was true that Teacher Xiao’s fable of the bow shooter had left a deep impression on me. But from that day on, it became an inspirational driving force. Whenever I met difficulties or challenges in my dancing, like the split jumps, I always went back to this fable for my basic inspiration: hard, work, determination, and perseverance. That day Teacher Xiao’s words had touched me deeply, and I knew that he cared.

I couldn’t turn naturally, but my newfound inspiration with my jumps made me work harder and harder. I set impossible goals for myself. One night I had an idea. When everybody else was sleep I went to the studio, with a candle and a box of matches. I put the lighted candle at one end of the studio and started to practice my turns. The candle threw only a faint light in front of me. It was hard, but I thought if I could turn in the dark, then turning in the light would be easy. I couldn’t take the risk of turning the light on, of my teachers catching me staying up so late, but I continued, night after night, relentlessly. By the end of the term I had left shallow indentations in the studio floor where I endlessly, repeatedly, turned.

Many people were very surprised to see my rapid improvement, but not Teacher Xiao.

Twenty students, including me, were selected to attend Ben Stevenson’s classes. Ben seemed to enjoy teaching at our academy and I was exhilarated with his approach. Compared to our restrictive training, his seemed so much easier and freer. He approached dance mainly from the artistic aspect, emphasizing relaxation and fluidity of movement rather than strict technique. I found him fascinating and inspiring, and my body felt good while I performed in his classes.

“I wish to propose two toasts. The first is to all of you for putting up with me for over five and a half years of shouting and carrying on. This may be our last gathering together. I’m proud to be your teacher and I wish you all the best of luck. You’re Chairman and Madame Mao’s last generation of dancers. You have studied under the most strict and disciplined rules imaginable, but this will give you an edge over the others. You’ll be the last dancers of the era.” Teacher Xiao stopped briefly to calm his emotions. “I’ll boldly make a prediction. Your dance training will never be duplicated. Your dancing will proudly stand high in Chinese ballet history.”

He paused again. “My second toast is to Cunxin’s American trip. I hope you will respect your past and charge toward the future. Perfect your art form. Make all of China proud.”

And when Romeo mistakenly believed that Juliet was dead, all the sorrow and despair I had ever experienced in my life overwhelmed me. I thought of the years of separation from my parents, of fearing for my life in that small room in the Chinese consulate. I thought of life without Mary, I thought of the greatest sacrifice one could make, to take one’s life for the sake of love. When Juliet finally plunged Romeo’s knife into her heart and closed her eyes forever, there was not a sound from anyone in the entire theater, only the soul-wrenching music playing to the end. Then suddenly the audience erupted into applause. I didn’t want it to end. I’d tasted the delicious feeling of the ultimate performance; the performance of my life. Another moment to treasure forever.