On the second day of school my freshman year, we had to take algebra 2 readiness tests. I had gotten so used to failing everything that I was hoping that in this new, non IB school, things would change.
I got the test and it took me an extremely long time, because I didn’t know how to do anything. I was freaking out and calling myself stupid and when the bell rang, we had to turn them in. Except mine was literally half done.
And then in panic, emotions flooded my head as I thought that I was going to fail over and over again like the previous year, because I was stupid. So I burst into tears.
I tried to cover it up, but I was whimpering and panicking and shaking and trembling. My teacher came over to me and gently told me not to cry and that she wasn’t grading this test, and that I could come in and finish it during lunch.
I barely passed the pre-test, but I aced the first test, to my surprise! But then I got a D on my second test. Again, emotions upon emotions flooded my head as I kept telling myself that I was stupid, incapable, and would never make it.
I had Algebra 2 first period, so I held in the tears until the period was over and then burst on the way to French. Josephine told my teacher I wasn’t feeling good and she responded with care and gentleness, not expecting me to do any work (but I did mine anyways).
I stopped crying after French but during 4th period, my biology class was stressing me out and I had rubbed my eyes so much that I couldn’t put my right contact lense back into my eye. Going half blind stressed me out even more.
A sweet girl in my table offered to walk me to my math class during lunch to ask for help, because I was so worked up by then. And so I did.
“I need help,” I told my teacher.
“With what? Math? Life?” She said, enthusiastically.
“I don’t know I just—” and then I started crying. A look of concern spread across her face.
I was crying really really hard. And my teacher didn’t quite know what to do.
She explained to me why I shouldn’t worry about one bad test score, but to me they were all adding up to a million. Even so, she sifted through my negative thoughts, and helped me change my attitude towards myself.
“Come here,” she said, when lunch ended. She wrapped me in her arms. “It’s gonna be okay.”
The next day I discovered that another one of my teachers was a Christian. It was so incredibly unexpected. But she ended up sitting with me at school and praying with me for many whole minutes. I didn’t tell her why I wanted her to pray for me, but she addressed every emotion I was feeling. It was absolutely amazing. She embraced me too.
A few days later I was pulled in the counseling office at school. My counselor told me to drop the class if it was stressing me out that much.
That same day, I gave a really fun and powerful speech in my English class and I decided that I wasn’t going to fail or drop the class. I wasn’t going to give up. And I made it through with a B by the end of the year.
I had another mini breakdown on the 5th day of school sophomore year because I was so afraid to ask my teacher questions. It was triggered by my teacher’s ability to read my emotions of insane fear which I couldn’t conceal when I went to talk to him before school.
I was bawling all throughout my first period class.
“You can leave if you want,” my history teacher said.
“I’m fine,” I said. 10 minutes of bawling later I looked over at my friend. “Can you come with me to the counseling office?”
They let me sit in a room alone so I could collect myself. Moments later, my counselor returned with my pre-cal teacher and they tried to talk to me. When they left, I walked out of the room and saw my math teacher from last year .
Oh crap. I do not want her to see me like this again. But she was standing by the door so I couldn’t avoid her.
“Hey, this is happening again.” I said.
And she gently talked to me about crying and math, because the 2 go hand in hand.
My counselor saw us talking and pulled us both inside her office. She again emphasized that I’m too young to be stressing so much, and that I have such a strong drive and that I learn from my mistakes. I again did not agree to dropping pre-cal, because I knew I could do it. Somehow, someway.
I aced pre cal at the end of sophomore year. My sophomore year couldn’t have been any better. The teachers I had were so amazing, and I love them so much. I ended up with a 4.5 g.pa which is so crazy to think about because I certainly did not get that on my own. That certainly wasn’t me. And I learned that God knew what he was doing, teaching me all of these things.
I’ve been thinking about how far I’ve come in school because right now school is extremely hard. But I’m going to make it. I’m going to make it because God already knows that it’s going to work out perfectly in the end. I’m going to make it because all my teachers have my back, and won’t let me fall.
I also know that even if I don’t, it won’t matter. Because I am worth more than my grades, and God will use my life regardless.