I remember it like yesterday. It was my first day of sixth grade and I received my schedule of classes for the school year. In comparing the schedule with my friends - I noticed that I was in a math class that I did not think that I belonged in. Rather than being upset - or worse, talking to my dad (who would oftentimes blame my teachers, but never in their face) I decided to take matters into my own hands.
Naturally talented in "math facts", I went up to my teacher on the first day and asked how I can move up to the "accelerated math class" that all of my industrious friends were placed in. I mentioned to her very politely, "I think that there was a mistake. I am a very good math student. What do I need to do in order to be in the accelerated math class with the other students?". Her abrupt response to me was "You need to have a 100 average in order to move up to the next level."
One-hundred? Very well. For me, that was something that did not require just an extreme amount of pressure, but self-determination - and precision. Each and every single math problem that I did needed to be perfect. Not just "perfect"; but almost a work of art. Enough to show my fellow students, teacher, teachers, department, and school how math was done. I remember at the beginning of each class the teacher would hold up my work and show the entire class what your math homework needed to look like. What I did was no secret - I listened in class (very intently), did my homework, lined up each step as if it was drawn by Picasso. Eventually the papers that were handed back were filled with more 100's than a stack of Benjamin Franklin bills. It was not a matter of pride or revenge - it was the policy that the math department had set in order for students to move up. Yes, I was upset, but my frustration with the situation was leveraged with my own sense of self-worth. Years later, my grandfather reaffirmed the notion by telling me, "You can accomplish anything that you put your mind to." My quiet response to him was "I think that I already have...".
Each quarter of that school year I was in a different math class. I noticed that with every group that I was in, I would observe the amount that was demanded of each student and was glad to move up at the end of every quarter. A new class meant new teachers and friends - something that my curious mind was always observant of. I never mentioned this to my father or mother - they always knew that out of their five children - I was not one to give them any problems when it came to school. There were times when my dad would plug the phone because teachers would call him during his morning coffee to tell him how great of a student I was. (Sorry Dad, I know how important that time is to you. They should have written you a note that I may have kept for myself..)
In school, I learned to do what I knew I could do and was expected of me - I used the system to my advantage and never had another conversation with a teacher about what I had to do. I did it all on my own and the success of my accomplishment was landing in the very last "accelerated" class with the rest of my friends. (To my disappointment, it wasn't as difficult as I had imagined. It had a label of accelerated, but not the work or the expectation.)
When I look back, I realized that back then my drive to succeed was way beyond anyone else's in the school - because nobody had accomplished what I had. My mother has always said that it is a rarity for me to ask someone to help me learn things - like reading, writing, doing math, or even riding a bike (I have the scabs to prove it.). I share that story with many of my students so that they know that sometimes the person that you can look to when things get a little complicated is right in front of you. Your parents have done such an excellent job with you - that sometimes all it takes is just listening to what they have been telling you all your life.
In the words of my mother, "Work hard, very hard. What you accomplish on your own nobody can take away from you. No matter how hard they try."
Naturally talented in "math facts", I went up to my teacher on the first day and asked how I can move up to the "accelerated math class" that all of my industrious friends were placed in. I mentioned to her very politely, "I think that there was a mistake. I am a very good math student. What do I need to do in order to be in the accelerated math class with the other students?". Her abrupt response to me was "You need to have a 100 average in order to move up to the next level."
One-hundred? Very well. For me, that was something that did not require just an extreme amount of pressure, but self-determination - and precision. Each and every single math problem that I did needed to be perfect. Not just "perfect"; but almost a work of art. Enough to show my fellow students, teacher, teachers, department, and school how math was done. I remember at the beginning of each class the teacher would hold up my work and show the entire class what your math homework needed to look like. What I did was no secret - I listened in class (very intently), did my homework, lined up each step as if it was drawn by Picasso. Eventually the papers that were handed back were filled with more 100's than a stack of Benjamin Franklin bills. It was not a matter of pride or revenge - it was the policy that the math department had set in order for students to move up. Yes, I was upset, but my frustration with the situation was leveraged with my own sense of self-worth. Years later, my grandfather reaffirmed the notion by telling me, "You can accomplish anything that you put your mind to." My quiet response to him was "I think that I already have...".
Each quarter of that school year I was in a different math class. I noticed that with every group that I was in, I would observe the amount that was demanded of each student and was glad to move up at the end of every quarter. A new class meant new teachers and friends - something that my curious mind was always observant of. I never mentioned this to my father or mother - they always knew that out of their five children - I was not one to give them any problems when it came to school. There were times when my dad would plug the phone because teachers would call him during his morning coffee to tell him how great of a student I was. (Sorry Dad, I know how important that time is to you. They should have written you a note that I may have kept for myself..)
In school, I learned to do what I knew I could do and was expected of me - I used the system to my advantage and never had another conversation with a teacher about what I had to do. I did it all on my own and the success of my accomplishment was landing in the very last "accelerated" class with the rest of my friends. (To my disappointment, it wasn't as difficult as I had imagined. It had a label of accelerated, but not the work or the expectation.)
When I look back, I realized that back then my drive to succeed was way beyond anyone else's in the school - because nobody had accomplished what I had. My mother has always said that it is a rarity for me to ask someone to help me learn things - like reading, writing, doing math, or even riding a bike (I have the scabs to prove it.). I share that story with many of my students so that they know that sometimes the person that you can look to when things get a little complicated is right in front of you. Your parents have done such an excellent job with you - that sometimes all it takes is just listening to what they have been telling you all your life.
In the words of my mother, "Work hard, very hard. What you accomplish on your own nobody can take away from you. No matter how hard they try."
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