No Matter What You Do, You Will Lose by Aidan

No Matter What You Do, You Will Lose by Aidan - July 2016 Scholarship Essay

Walking into my AP Physics class for the first time in August, I knew that it was to be a hard and unforgiving course. Physics is, after all, one of the great pinnacles of science; besides that, 2015’s test scores were abysmal. I figured I would do with this class what I did with every hard class: take notes, study as I needed to, ask plenty of questions, and walk out okay.
The bell rang. After the class was situated, our teacher introduced himself. He told the class a little bit about who he was, where he came from, and how he ended up in a high school physics classroom. Then, he turned off the projector, sat up on the demonstration table, and started talking about the course that we all got ourselves stuck in. In essence, he said, “I’m glad you’re all in here with me, and this course is going to be amazing for those of you who learn to appreciate it, but it’s also going to be harder than any class you’ve ever taken. Every single one of you will need to learn to think differently. If you’re in here for a GPA boost or some padding for your resume, get out.” Immediately afterwards, he talked about classical relativity until the bell rang.
A few weeks later, our teacher gave his first exam. Two people received As. About ten received Bs. Everyone else failed or almost failed. I remember feeling strange when I saw my teacher; he was not upset. When class began, he passed out our exams. Then he hoisted himself onto the demonstration table. With a move of the hand, the class fell silent.
“It’s okay that most of you failed.” That was an amazing thing, to hear a teacher say that. “That’s something that happens. Maybe your parents and your other teachers have taught you otherwise, but it’s okay to fail. Not one of you is special, not one of you was born smart or stupid. No one is or isn’t ‘a physics person’. If you want anything, you have to look at your failure and ask what you didn’t know, not shout that this whole thing is a dumb waste of time and that you’re going to quit. Have grit.” For the rest of period, we reworked the exam we had all just bombed.
I have no idea who in that class followed that advice at that time, but I know that I did not. I was rather upset that this young teacher tried to handle ideas that were not physics or math.
In October, we started to study dynamics. One problem was so hard. I started that assignment a week early just so I could have time to work on that one problem. I could not figure it out myself no matter what I tried, so I asked not only my friends but also my teacher himself for help. I usually tried not to ask for much help because I thought it was somehow cheating, but I needed it then very badly. I finished the assignment, and when I got it back, I found out that I had gotten not only that problem but also all but two other problems wrong as well. That amounted to a grade of 30.
I was angry that something I had put so much work into yielded such lowly results. Once I calmed down some, though, I remembered that talk my teacher gave the class. It clicked for me then: this was one of those times when I tried really hard but I still did not get that for which I had hoped, and I had to choose whether I was to drop the class or to step up my studying and work even harder. I chose to work harder. That did wonders for me. Not only did my physics grade go up, but my other grades improved too. I performed more competently in my extracurricular activities. I stopped getting as angry when I lost. I also stopped judging others so hard when they made mistakes or got angry, because they were just people too, and they too needed to make mistakes to learn.
The most important thing any teacher ever did for me was to make me fail, to make me see that no matter what I do, I will lose sometimes, and to teach me how to see my failing in a way that makes me stronger.