Falling is a way of life. Accidentally walking into a Handicap parking sign pole when meeting a freshman for the first time is a part of the journey. Clumsiness is beautiful in its own lack of spatial awareness and directionally challenged way.
It’s junior year, and one would think I’d be done with first impressions. I have been on campus for three years; I know it all, but meeting new people is never-ending. There will always be new faces in the University Center and in my six-person journalism-specific classes. As my focus shifts towards building a career and recruiting people to join my sorority or this newspaper, I’ve had to learn how to make the most of interactions when my clumsy bone is sticking out.
For some, clumsiness is just a once-in-a-while moment. For me, it has stumbled with me since I was born. Once I came popping out of the womb and started walking, my mom, who teaches 4-year-olds, noticed something was wrong and took me to the Scottish Rite Children’s Hospital. Turns out, I had a slight pigeon toe, where my toe angles inward instead of straight when I walk.
When my pigeon toe was in full swing, and I was tripping over my own legs all the time, my family went camping in Colorado Springs, where my brother started climbing up a rock formation. Little old me, who wanted to do anything her older brother could do, trailed after him. My dad saw me climbing the rock and was stressed; he thought I was gonna trip and fall.
As I grew up, soccer helped me straighten out my running and walking. Now, if you look close enough and my feet are tired enough, you can still see my slight pigeon toe waiting to give me another beautifully clumsy moment.
Though first impressions were not as important in Kindergarten, the clumsiness from my childhood taught me how to recover from a possibly embarrassing situation. To this day, I still trip over my own feet, over thin air, and run into the occasional wall as I miscalculate the space between my body and the door.
In all these moments, my favorite response is to tumble over and laugh it off. If my friend missed my fall, I laugh as I retell the story to them. The sensitive little Calla, who couldn’t walk without stepping on her own feet, would be comforted knowing it is okay to fall.
I recently just moved into my first house off campus, where I am living with a few friends and new faces. Of course, I wanted to make a good impression on my new roommates to start the year off on the right foot.
The third week of school, I’m walking down the wooden stairs, in my socks, to get to the kitchen. My hands are full with a brand new “God Bless Texas” Stanley dupe and my shoes. One wrong step later, “God Bless Texas” is dented and leaking water at the bottom of the staircase; my hand looks like I gave a hell of a right hook, and my butt is five steps lower than where I started.
I let out a giggle, got up, walked into the room as if nothing had happened, and told my roommates I just fell down the stairs. One of my roommates, whom I didn’t know very well, asked if I was okay, and I said yes.
An experience that once I was embarrassed by now makes me laugh. The key to living with clumsiness is to not take it so seriously, choosing to ignore any feelings of embarrassment and instead to make light of the situation.
This mantra can be useful in personal and professional life, as having a clumsy moment in front of a potential employer is your opportunity to show how well you can pivot. If there is one thing clumsiness has shown me, it is knowing how to own your fall, trip, or spillage. The moment is an opportunity to poke a little fun at yourself and make new friends through it.
Anyone can have a clumsy moment, but how you choose to react to your misstep sets you apart.
As I move forward in setting up my career and finding some lucky souls to fill my positions in clubs, I know that the next time I trip, fall on my ass, and spill my purse everywhere in front of people I just met or strangers, I can deal with it.
Calla Patino is the head editor of The Setonian’s Opinion section. She can be reached at calla.patino@student.shu.edu.
