On the first day that we visited the school where I was supposed to install two solar panels as part of my internship, the students were just getting out of class for the day.

It was hot, overcast and muggy, about 12:15 in the afternoon. (I’m still not sure I understand the Nicaraguan education system’s schooling hours.)

As our car pulled up to the school and we stepped out, kids ran up to greet us. I realized immediately that it was a spectacle to see a vehicle of any sort in this community.

I felt extremely nervous, almost so nervous that I didn’t want to be there.

I doubted myself.

In retrospect, feeling that way was extremely selfish and arrogant just as much as it was a display of self-consciousness.

It was supposed to be my initial visit and I was so unsure of myself. It may not make sense now how limitless self-doubt can be associated with arrogance, but it will by the time I am finished explaining.

On that day, I intended to explain the basics of the solar technology to the community and coordinate with them for the installation day to come.However, I could not have felt less confident in my ability to do so in Spanish. I was desperately afraid of failure. Of disappointing myself and the people who were listening.

I realize now though, that such a fear, is not only limiting but it is also selfish. I was so afraid that I almost didn’t want to try, and not trying in order to spare my pride the risk of being ruined is perhaps the most selfish, arrogant thing one can do in such a circumstance. To worry about appearing to be a failure is as much a display of humbleness as it is of arrogance. Indeed, I doubted myself (which is a sign of humility,) but I simultaneously fretted about maintaining an aura of expertise that I was arrogantly self-aware of.

Worrying about things like looking stupid, or unqualified, or failing are petty first-world concerns compared to the difficulty of teaching in a school, or attending one for that matter, where there is no light.

I realized this as a little girl with pig tails who barely came up to my knee wandered past me, grabbing my hand and looking up to unleash an electric smile. She stayed by my side. I looked down at her and had a thought that would continue to be reaffirmed throughout my time in Nicaragua: My Life is not hard. Our lives are not hard.

If fear of failure is your most legitimate concern, you are incredibility privileged, for it means you have the opportunity to fail, but also the possibility to succeed. Some people are never given either.

As I looked down at the little girl holding my hand, I did not feel anymore sure of myself, but I felt certain that it would be the most selfish, entitled thing I’d ever done if I let my pride stop me from trying.

How lucky I am to have the luxury of fearing failure.