From the tender age of four, we start dealing with teachers. They're the people who pass knowledge onto us, and even if we're baffled by its uselessness, we are forced to consume it.
We are taught to respect teachers to a high degree, and some teach us to fear them.
Now, lets be honest, nobody teaches for the money. Where I live, teachers often campaign for better pay, whilst in America, a recent statistic showed that 60% of American teachers cannot rely solely on a teaching wage.
So, we can safely assume that apart from the three infamous reasons to be a teacher (June, July and August), people flock to the teaching profession through a passion, and through the goodness of their hearts.
Though I do respect teachers (it is a job I could never do), I don't appreciate how highly society holds them. Much like the pope, many teachers are regarded as infallible. The student is a mere sheep, needing their shepherd, a teacher, to guide them. It is generally accepted that a teacher will know your abilities better than you do.
But this is not true, and I unfortunately found out the hard way.
All through secondary school, I had done higher level maths, mostly for the extra twenty five points in the Leaving Cert. That being said, I was always terrible at it. Fail after fail came my way, and during the two Leaving Cert years, I passed three to four tests (and we had many, many tests). My maths teacher at that point was the best maths teacher I had had in a long time. He was a young man, and I was (I'm assuming) in his first ever class. He was also a grinds teacher, and stayed back every week during sixth year for after school classes (I only ever missed three).
Even though I had was understanding maths more than ever before with him, I was constantly struggling. I only really understood statistical maths, and differentiation, in a wide sea of maths chapters. I was constantly failing exams, unable to do homework, and it heavily triggered my anxiety.
Over the course of the two years, I asked him numerous times if I should drop down to ordinary level. He seemed to be honest, going up to people and telling them that they simply wouldn't pass the higher level paper, so I braced myself for the hard truth. But, over and over again, he told me I should stay in that class. I don't know if it was my dedication to the afterschool classes, or if he was afraid to upset me (I had many panic attacks in front of him, and he simply did not know how to react - something I will talk about in a future post), but he wanted me to stay. Yet, even though I was almost certain I didn't belong there, I stayed anyway.
But it didn't pay off. I failed the Leaving Cert maths, and I was devastated. We were always told that without maths, we would fail the Leaving Cert, that we can't get into college without it.
They were wrong, because I was accepted into university anyway (I'll never need maths again anyway, reinforcing my point of useless information).
I will go to see my paper and maybe appeal it, just so I feel that all those hours spent working for maths wasn't a total waste.
But just know, that you know yourself best. Don't fall into the trap of thinking that your teacher is all knowing, because they're not. They're only human, and they can and will make mistakes. You know your abilities, and just because you find a subject difficult doesn't make you a failure.
School isn't everything. Do what's best for you, and enjoy life.
~~~~~
If you have similar experiences to this, let me know! All comments are welcome but asked to be respectful.
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