The Day Mara Learned to Try Again

Mara loved art time at school. She loved the crayons, the soft music, and the way the big papers felt under her hands. Today, she wanted to draw the perfect rainbow. She picked her favorite purple crayon and began with a long, gentle curve.

But as she pulled the crayon across the page… riiiip.
A tiny tear opened near the corner.

Mara blinked. “Oh no.”

She got a new sheet of paper and tried again. This time she pressed harder, wanting the purple to be bold.
Riiip. Another tear.

Something inside her chest felt hot. Her jaw felt tight. Her cheeks felt warm like someone had turned on a little heater. Her fingers curled into fists.

Mara whispered, “Why won’t it work?” She didn’t feel like drawing anymore. She didn’t feel like anything.

Ms. Lila, her teacher, walked by and knelt beside her. “I see that look,” she said softly. “Are you feeling frustrated?”

Mara nodded, blinking fast. “Yes… it keeps ripping.”

Ms. Lila smiled gently. “Frustration happens when our ideas are big, but things around us aren’t cooperating.” She placed a hand on the table. “Let’s take one slow breath together.”

Mara breathed in, then out. Her shoulders dropped a little. “That’s better,” she whispered.

Ms. Lila slid a fresh piece of paper in front of her. “How about we try one small step? Just the first curve of your rainbow. Light and slow.”

Mara wrapped her fingers around the purple crayon again. Her cheeks still felt warm, but not too warm now. Her jaw wasn’t tight anymore.

She moved the crayon gently. A soft purple curve appeared. No tearing. No rips.

“I did it!” Mara smiled, a tiny spark in her eyes.

“That’s trying again,” Ms. Lila said. “And sometimes that’s all we need.”

Mara added the next color, then the next. Red… orange… yellow… green… Each line slow. Each one a small step.

When she finally held up her rainbow, it wasn’t perfect. But it was hers. And she felt proud—proud that she kept going, even when it was hard.

Mara whispered to herself, “Frustration is just a feeling… and I can handle it.”

And that day, under the warm classroom lights and the soft music, Mara learned something big: Trying again makes room for something wonderful to grow.

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