Pretty frequently (a few times a week) I get caught up in wishing I could go back to around middle school or so and do it all over. Not because those were particularly good years for me... but because I want a chance to be good at everything.
You know, having my 4 years of fencing ability from the start and understanding all the academic stuff I struggled with in general... But mostly I wish I was a lot less polite to my guidance counselors (who were not even a little bit helpful) and quite a few of my math teachers.
I’ve struggled with math my whole life. Like, I’m pretty sure my math skills tapped out around 3rd grade. I know (nearly) everyone complains about how they were never any good at math but... there’s no exaggeration here. My junior year, I was being tutored by a sophomore. It’s a miracle I graduated. But a few of the things that really stick out...
Anyone remember those minute math sheets? Where you’re given a sheet of problems in elementary school and have to rush to do as many as possible in 60 seconds? Fuck those. It’s not even that the math was particularly hard at that level, but I will swear to this day that those worksheets were my first experiences with real anxiety. Like, it’s no wonder I’m practically neurotic about getting everywhere on time.
The biggest problems came in high school where passing was actually really important. I went through three different types of tutoring, and when none of those led to any marked success, my teachers and guidance counselors and, most notably and bluntly, my peer tutor basically just looked at me and said, “Well, I guess you’re just not trying hard enough. Whether or not you fail is on you.” (And like, I was plenty vocal at that point about how much I loathed the subject... but I Always put the work in. I did all my homework-- no matter how long it took me and how often I got everything wrong anyway-- and went to all the classes and then gave up my free periods to do MORE math with tutors and extra help sessions. And at the time... I mean, it hurt, and it angered me, but I mostly brushed it off and continued my struggle. But in hindsight... No. Fuck all of you. You don’t get to throw it back on me and tell me I must not WANT this enough just because your methods were ineffectual.)
But most of all... Fuck my seventh grade math teacher. Every day we would grade our homework in class and then have to read out our scores to him. And every single day-- except for literally 2 occasions that I remember quite clearly-- he’d let the entire class laugh for a few minutes when I had to tell him how abysmally I’d done. (You wanna talk about school experiences that will scar your self-esteem for life...) And if I could go back, with my full adult of appreciation of just how much of a disgrace to teaching this made him, I would verbally fuck him up. And maybe, like, actually report him or something.
That’s all. (For now.) This was mostly just a chance for me to vent and let some of my pent-up anger finally make its way to the surface. :P And it was therapeutic in a way... I don’t really want to hope that anyone can relate to this one... But perhaps it will be therapeutic for someone else as well.
