Julio took juggling very, very seriously. Years ago, his babysitter had taught him how to juggle tennis balls. Ever since that day, Julio had practiced and mastered the art of juggling.
So, when he became an adult, Julio joined a small circus troupe to start his career. It was the night of his first performance. Julio was dressed in a blue-sequin suit jacket with a blue sequin bow tie. He ran out into the lit-up circus ring and juggled his heart out. He threw ten balls in the air and kept them all going for a good long while. He carefully concentrated on his performance, but when it was over, he received a disappointing smattering of applause. He took a lackluster bow and slogged offstage.
Backstage under the fluorescent lights of the green room, the circus manager said to Julio, “Pretty good, kid.”
“Pretty good?” Julio asked. He knew he had been fantastic.
“Well, good juggling,” the manager said, “but did you know that you had an angry look on your face the whole time?”
Startled, Julio paused and ran this information through his brain. He is right, Julio thought. I concentrate so hard that I don’t even smile.
All the next day, Julio practiced smiling in front of the mirror. Then he practiced juggling and smiling at the same time. It felt strange after so many years.
What does Julio do to overcome his challenge?
He practices smiling while juggling in the mirror.
He asks for additional training from the other circus members.
He tries to juggle with a smaller number of balls.
He decides to take a break from juggling.