Failing is good. At least, it was for me. I, through trial and error, learned that failing and asking for help was in no way weak. Because of this, I became successful after a past full of preparing for the worst. Failure wasn't my fear, per say, but it's product was. Failing produces fools, people who are pitied, and I didn't want to become the next class dunce. Success was the only solution in my mind, but it seemed so impossibly far away.
I don't come from a family where failure isn't an option; on the contrary, I come from a family where failure is an option. My parents never forced me to be something I couldn't be, and they've always had a very kind approach to my studies—whether or not I failed. I believe that was a very defining point that guided me through my own failures.
When I was in third grade, I had a tough time in school. Aside from the normal focusing issues, I was a new student, switching from one school to another. I had problems with friends, leaving me with no motivation to learn, and my teacher was constantly frustrated with my “lack of focus.” This formed a rut in my studies then, and studies to come.
Sitting in a classroom felt like a rope around my neck. I never learned multiplication properly, I couldn't read well enough, and my study skills were little to none. This continued to be a large hurdle that I couldn't jump over, causing me to fall behind and fail in school. Although my sixth-grade teacher invested in me, forming a new self-confidence I had never encountered before, It wasn't until the end of my Freshman year of High School that I really started to tackle this issue.
Freshman year was hectic. I wasn't studying, I couldn't do my homework properly, and I wasn't gaining any knowledge from my teachers. My parents decided that this was a problem bigger than anything our family could solve. Together, we decided that I go to tutoring during the summer to make up the classes I failed. An option I didn't approach open heartedly. I didn't want to ask for help, and I didn't want to need it.
As I started this process, I felt like I had something wrong with me and I needed to be analyzed under some kind of human microscope. I was wrong. We retraced my academic steps, finding the cracks (more like canyons) and filling them. I worked on multiplication, reading, and writing. We found that focusing wasn't the issue, but my own ability to follow along with my piers in the classroom. It was a slow process, but beneficial in both school and myself. I overcame my fear of the product of failure by becoming a product itself, and I defied my own ideal of what it lead to.
I learned that I failed. And I learned that failing isn't losing. No, failing is simply a longer route to winning. I've gained a lesson I'm grateful to have learned so early on in life, not that failing is okay, (my parents engrained that in me long ago) but that asking for help after failing isn't weak. I'm stubborn and fiercely independent, asking for help was no option in my mind. But I've grown comfortable with it now. I ask questions, I'm persistent for answers, and I'm not embarrassedto ask the same question twice. I found pride in my failures because they lead to success, as long as I was willing to keep going.
This honestly isn't meant to be as dramatic as it ended up being... :I I was reading it through and felt it to be a bit over-dramatic, but oh well.
Hopefully you enjoyed, and thanks for the contest opportunity! :)602Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfQrkIgnVJF
-LovelySheree602Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡb4sueEQyg2
