The Game of Mao is similar to life in that one must learn the rules through inductive reasoning. The name of the card game is a reference to Chairman Mao Zedong’s rule over China in the mid-20th century, during which people were arrested for breaking ever-changing and unknown laws. This formed the golden rule of The Game of Mao: you are not allowed to reveal the rules to others. New players must learn through observations and penalties, such as getting dealt an additional card each time they break a rule. I was 10 years old when my older sister introduced the game to me. At the old wooden dining room table, I watched my hand of cards grow thicker by the minute. My eyes filled with tears as my sister sat there smiling. At the time, I thought she was being cruel. I now know that she was teaching me a valuable skill—to adapt.
In grade school, I was often a bit behind my peers. I let myself be discouraged by comparisons to the other children, who seemed to already know the rules. As I grew up, I stopped comparing myself to them and focused on learning at my own pace. I navigated the world by observing others and receiving penalty cards. Instead of throwing up my hands, I learned to roll up my sleeves and take risks, because you must lose the game of Mao many times before you can win it.
As I’ve learned The Game of Mao, and of life, I’ve become resilient and hardworking. I constantly work toward a goal in life: buying the new teal iPhone 12 (decorated with a sparkly case), going on a school trip to Costa Rica (on a bus that smelled strangely like ham), getting onto the A-team in Mock Trial (and winning a worldwide tournament), or maintaining good grades (fueled by iced coffee). These things were not handed to me, but I managed each: I learned online banking (I started by googling “how to save money”), worked away my precious weekends at Kroger (I even got ready for homecoming in the employee bathroom), presented my teacher with failed Mock Trial auditions (and still showed up to help copy team rosters), and spent afterschool hours studying in the public library (often with a Hostess Honey Bun for dinner). I’ve learned how to stand on my own two feet and turn weaknesses into strengths. Life can have its challenges, but the only way to succeed is to practice—and fail—as much as you can.
This summer, I worked at a sleepaway camp in northern Michigan. I founded “Cards Club” and taught the campers how to play Mao, not by telling, but by showing. As more kids joined our meetings, some played the game with different rules than I did. So as I taught these campers the game, I found myself learning it as well. It was humbling to lose to a bunch of 12-year-olds at first, but I adjusted to their style by embracing it. In many ways, camp was an opportunity to leave my comfort zone, as college will be. It’s daunting to imagine packing my life away into clear plastic tubs marked with painter’s tape and leaving home; however, each time I’ve left my comfort zone before, I’ve gained experiences and memories that forever change how I navigate life.
I am looking forward to expanding my repertoire in college by meeting people, making connections, experiencing different customs, and adding more rules to my game of Mao. And that’s the beauty of life. The way you move through it can only change and become more complex than when you were a kid, watching your sister play.
