Below Average by Carolyn

Below Average by Carolyn - August 2014 Scholarship Essay

Math isn't my strongest suit (to say the the least). I know every teenager hates math with a passion more fiery than their love for social justice, but my feelings run deeper. Sometimes I even have trouble adding up the points I've gotten for a word in a Scrabble game. My basic math skills are essentially nonexistent, so I'm sure to have a calculator on me at all times. For these reasons, I have to try extra hard in many of my math classes.

My junior year, I took Pre-Calculus with a very nice woman named Ms. Machnik. She tried so very hard to get me to grasp the concepts we were learning in class, and I commend her for all the early mornings and late afternoons she spent with me while the building was otherwise empty of people besides the janitorial staff.

These efforts, however, were often unrewarded. One day I received a test with quite a low grade on it- and by quite a low grade I mean a solid 39%. This was truly an unfortunate sight to see. Nonetheless, I kept my head up. Due to the friendliness of the one and only "very nice woman" Ms. Machnik, I was allowed to retake this quiz with only a slight grade disadvantage. I had three days to completely re-learn how to graph polynomials, and learn them in a way that would allow at least a passing grade.

So I buckled down. I watched videos online, arrived to school before the doors were even unlocked, and tried with all my might to master a concept that I only understood a bit over 1/3 of, based on my last grade (though that included a generous amount of partial credit). In one of many acts of kindness, Ms. Machnik bought me scones for breakfast.

I began the retake like a general entering war. I had three pencils sharpened into deadly points and a mindset of determination. I entered the test shooting for, with crossed fingers, a grade of "at least a D". I graphed and equated and plugged in.....and finished. I placed the test on the teachers table with a tiny bow and left with a feeling of victory.

The joy I felt when the grade was returned to me was akin to the joy many mothers say they feel after childbirth. I had achieved a solid 73%, certainly not perfect, but enough to keep my grade at an A. My failure had brought me to a point where I could be happy about being average. That, truly, made me feel invincible.