In the cold classroom, all I heard were rhythmic keyboard taps and timid mouse clicks, but in my head, a thousand thoughts clashed against each other, throwing themselves at the walls of my mind, making a discordant choir that demanded a voice. They were asking why my efforts were being denied the grade they deserved, why my time spent carefully crafting a project seemed irrelevant, and why my arguments fell through, unable to hold their own against my teacher’s open-fire criticism.
Was it because of my race? Was it because of my gender? Did my demographic work against me? Maybe I wasn’t meant for this, after all. These questions were the lump in my throat that refused to budge. These thoughts were the tears that burned my eyes.
My teacher’s voice, spiked with irritation, crescendoed ever so slightly- just enough to shake the insecure foundation I had built within me.
I was fighting a silent duel with him and with myself. He had encouraged the growth of my already-haunting belief that, no, I really wasn’t enough. I wasn’t smart enough, I wasn’t working hard enough, I wasn’t good enough. Then he hit the final block, causing my Jenga tower of courage to crumble. “I think you have too much pride.” I stood speechless, stripped from my ability to talk back. I replayed those words in my mind. I turned them over, cut them open, and dissected them. Breathlessly, I returned to my seat.
That day, I went back home with those words embedded into my heart.
The matter had disturbed me for an unbearable amount of time, yet it was settled as quickly as it had risen. “Why shouldn’t you be proud?” My mother’s tone was aggressive, but comforting all the same. Suddenly, I had something new to ponder. And with that, she began to build me back up- replacing my tattered Jenga blocks with titanium, stronger than ever.
…
I fell in love with equal signs and spinning gears within concrete walls and crinkled pages, and I have no plan of letting go. My progress refuses to brake for someone who tries to tear me down, and my potential is unstoppable- because “I was born for this,” and so were you.
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Thanks for sharing. I am glad that you have your mom being your strong advocate. Don't let a negative person to set you back. Keep your confidence and hard working, and you will get there.
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