Learning How to Bend, Not Break by Meera

Learning How to Bend, Not Break by Meera - August 2014 Scholarship Essay

I've always considered myself a perfectionist- I put a lot of heart into what I do. My general philosophy has always been: "either do it all the way, or not at all". And before I took Mr. Fin's chemistry class, my intense lifestyle and study habits had always worked out for me. It's not that things came easily, but until that class I operated under the belief that hard work is the answer to every problem. I had little to no sympathy for people who weren't succeeding in their courses; I just assumed they weren't as dedicated as I was. I've never regarded myself as naturally gifted, I'll just do anything to get what I want- work ethic defined me.

I showed up to Mr. Fin's chemistry class twenty minutes early on the first day of school. I had heard gossip about how intimidating and strict he was, and how he would berate students for asking "stupid" questions, or criticize their work in front of the entire class. But I was confident that I could make him like me. The room was empty, so I sat on the front row, in the desk closest to the projector. I saw his eyebrows raise a little bit; he probably wasn't used to that kind of eagerness. But for me, sitting down in that chair was the equivalent of putting on my war armor. I pulled out my notebooks like they were my weapons- I was stepping into battle. Mr. Fin was my opponent, and I was determined to do everything right- I would conquer chemistry, and walk out of there with an A. There was not even a question of failure- failure was not an option.

But as the year took off, I lost battle after battle. For the first time in my life, I was actually, literally failing tests. I didn't understand- I did all my homework, I read my textbook before class, my class notes were absolute perfection. I tried tutorials, study groups, and I even hired a private tutor. What more was there? I felt inexplicably ashamed of myself, and I remember having many emotional breakdowns because of this class. I'm not talking about one isolated incident of failure- this was test after test, quiz after quiz, for an entire year. By the second semester, chemistry was nothing less than the bane of my existence- it was eating me up inside. I constantly felt guilty, ashamed, and incompetent. I had made straight A's my entire life up until then, and it just didn’t make any sense.

There was no surreal moment of epiphany where I grew as a person. But throughout the course of that year, I slowly came to the inevitable conclusion that it's... okay to fail. It's completely okay not to succeed, and failure is not as horrible as it sounds. The beautiful part of this realization is how relieved I felt after I admitted to myself that no, I'm not good at chemistry. No, there's nothing more I could have done. I did my best, and the grade I ended up with didn't reflect my abilities as a student. There aren't any words to express the relief that accompanied that realization, the serenity that comes with acceptance.

Looking back on my sophomore year, I'm glad it happened. I was so hard before that class- I would either be straight, or I would break. Because of that experience, I now have the ability to bend. Failure caused me to grow as a person in a way that success never could have.