Failure by Marika

Failure by Marika - August 2014 Scholarship Essay

It is odd that though humility is considered the virtue, and pride the vice, youths are regularly told to be proud of themselves, to be proud of accomplishments, skills, talents, and especially intelligence, something most often measured by academic success.

Parents and teachers shy away from praising children for superficial things such as pretty eyes or a cute outfit; so they compliment them instead for good grades and above average test scores. Children are even rewarded with treats such as free movie tickets or desserts when they take a good report card to the cinema or restaurant.

It is in that sort of environment that perfectionists are easily grown. These children translate the constant praise of their academic success to mean that said success is a large part of what gives them worth as an individual. They generally have a natural talent for traditional schoolwork, well able to consistently bring home the perfect grade. They may go for years without running into difficulties maintaining the expectations that they have begun to set for themselves. Yet, eventually that must change. No person will be able to maintain perfection forever, simply because true perfection is impossible.

I was one of those perfectionist children. I excelled at all my classes and was duly praised for it. Some children were spoken of as charming, athletic, or funny. I was labeled intelligent. It grew into a form of self identity. I regarded those regular above average test scores as a necessary part of who I was as a person.

My family moved to Germany when I was twelve years old. My ability to excel academically was lost the moment I stepped into a German classroom. I started school there unable to do much more than introduce myself. "Hallo. Ich heiße Marika." I felt that my very worth depended upon my ability to regularly earn the top grades in the class, but I could not even understand the majority of what was being said.

For several months I struggled constantly to maintain my perfect record. A thick dictionary was always within easy reach; I so often flipped desperately through its pages, that they literally began to fall out. Multiple sets of homemade flash cards lived in my pockets; no pause was too short to pull them out and quiz myself frantically. I might have not understood the material, but I could still memorize it. I translated everything I could to try to deduce the topic we had covered in class that day, and then sat up until three or four in the morning reading articles in my native language about the vast range of subjects, trying to still learn everything that I was supposed to during the school day.

Eventually, I broke. No matter how hard I tried, however many hours I devoted to attempting to maintain perfection, I could not manage it. I felt incapable, worthless. I was meant to be smart, but looking at my grades, it seemed to me clear that I was anything but. I felt as if I might as well give up on school, my plans, my passions all together. I was convinced I would never be able to succeed at anything. For a while I struggled against suicide. I did not want to hurt my family, but I truly believed that I would be forever a burden, unable to do anything well. Somehow I had sunk into a spiral of irrational fear and dangerous perfectionism that had so thoroughly entrapped me that, at the time, I could not even see it for what it was.

Eventually, with the help of those who love me, I pulled myself out of it. To do so I had to reevaluate the whole way I saw school, my life, and even myself. I learned to find worth in a huge number of things I do and traits I have. I came to understand that not always maintaining perfection at something does not mean I have lost all right to be called good at it. I began to comprehend that I am still intelligent, even when I do not always receive the top grade in the class.

Failing as drastically as I did, being unable to keep up when I expended literally every effort I had, was incredibly hard for me. Yet, I came through it as a stronger person than I was before. Now, there is no risk of a bad grade bringing suicidal thoughts and tears, it results only in the thought that hopefully I can do better next time. While previously anything less than a 100 seemed terrible to me, now something as low as a 92 or even sometimes an 85 seems perfectly good to my mind.

The academic failure that I faced forced me to reconsider my own ideas of self worth and expand upon them to the point that I can no longer be torn down by a little failing and even a large one would only rock, not break me. That extreme failure was the catalyst that resulted in me becoming a stronger person.