Growing up, competing academically was one of the most important things that kids did, and the parents supported it. Who didn't want to be recognized as "the smartest?" As a result, I remember my failures much more than my successes.
In elementary school, there was this one class with Ms. X (I won't say her name in case some of you actually know her). Her class was awesome. Kids were always raving how great she was. They had so much fun. They were given candy and toys for their participation. It was undeniable that she was the best teacher at the school. She only taught kids in the 2nd grade or higher.
When I finally made it to the 2nd grade, I was determined to make it into her class. A semester went by, but I was never asked to join Ms. X's class. I was feeling down. Maybe I wasn't good enough. However, at the start of the second semester, I was finally asked to take a test to see if I qualified for Ms. X's class. Finally, it was my time to shine! I took the test with another Hmong girl across from me. I thought the test was easy and finished early, but I didn't want to brag. I asked her what she thought, and she thought it was a little hard. She had pretty good grades in class, so if she thought it was hard and I thought it was easy, I was in. YES!
Weeks go by... The Hmong girl made it, but I didn't. I felt like crap. I thought the test was easy. I didn't check my answers. I must have royally fukked up. I missed my opportunity. But as luck would have it, they asked me again! I was so excited. They must have asked me again because I was at the top of my 2nd grade class. The teachers were giving me a second chance because of my hard work in the classroom.
On my second attempt on the entrance test, I took my time. I checked my work. This time, I felt even better about the test.
Weeks go by... I hear nothing of it. That would be the last time I would ever be asked to take the test. The test made me felt like crap for years. I got bested. Or worse, I simply failed.
The experience is a big part of me. I sometimes retell the story to others as a motivational story of not giving up and continuing to try your best. That's what I took from it. Then one day in college, I was telling the story again. But this time, I was asked, "So who was this Hmong girl? And who was in the class?" As I was listing the people in the class, I realized...the y were all Hmong or Hispanics! Ms. X's class was ESL. I failed to get into ESL.