Smith67
Nov 11, 2013
Undergraduate / I failed my parents. How did it affect me? [2]
A man once told me that a man's greatness may not be measured by his success in life, but rather by his ability to find his feet and rise each time he falls. Failures, he said, are a part of our everyday lives are meant to strengthen us to do better. We become better individuals after learning from our failures because we find out we could have made it if we had put in a little more effort, determination and attitude.
I came to full terms with this fact in junior high school when at a certain point in my academic history I excelled at everything that was placed before me. I stood out as the most remarkable student at that time. My family especially, was proud of my achievement and since I happened to be their first child, they saw that as a good mark for the younger ones to emulate. It really felt good to be liked by almost everyone, to be praised and all the good that came with it. The commendations got into my head and complacency begun to set in. I failed to realize that I was getting into a new environment and that it required a new set of strategies and rules as well. I thought things were going to be as easy as they were back then in the former class. I treated my lessons as though they didn't mean anything. I stopped studying after school and after supper because I thought I really understood what was taught me at school and so there was no need revising and going over them. Well, the period of exams loomed and I still had high hopes of staying at the top. At the end of it all, I realized it wasn't all about just being okay. The results were in fact really horrible. I couldn't bear the idea of revealing my rather abysmal performance to my parents. I felt I had disappointed them. I failed them because they expected so much from me. That's when I felt real failure; that I had let down the very people who looked up to me, who believed in me.
I mustered the shreds of courage left in me and confronted them right after supper. I laid bare my results, expecting to receive a smack in the head as my eyes were shut tight but instead I received a touch on the shoulder. It was my dad. He asked me to sit as he explained to me how important it was to rise each time I fall, learning something from the failure, and refusing to allow it keep me down. This lesson taught me to view issues optimistically, knowing that all isn't lost after a fall. I picked up from there with the encouraging words of my dad and moved on. I went on to improve progressively as I had a different take now about what failure entailed. I eventually sat my final junior high exam and came out with distinction which earned me a scholarship I enjoyed till the end of senior high. The man who got me tuned wasn't with us anymore because he was involved in a motor accident before I sat the exam but I continually remember him because his inspiration words make me. I have a different take on failure now.
A man once told me that a man's greatness may not be measured by his success in life, but rather by his ability to find his feet and rise each time he falls. Failures, he said, are a part of our everyday lives are meant to strengthen us to do better. We become better individuals after learning from our failures because we find out we could have made it if we had put in a little more effort, determination and attitude.
I came to full terms with this fact in junior high school when at a certain point in my academic history I excelled at everything that was placed before me. I stood out as the most remarkable student at that time. My family especially, was proud of my achievement and since I happened to be their first child, they saw that as a good mark for the younger ones to emulate. It really felt good to be liked by almost everyone, to be praised and all the good that came with it. The commendations got into my head and complacency begun to set in. I failed to realize that I was getting into a new environment and that it required a new set of strategies and rules as well. I thought things were going to be as easy as they were back then in the former class. I treated my lessons as though they didn't mean anything. I stopped studying after school and after supper because I thought I really understood what was taught me at school and so there was no need revising and going over them. Well, the period of exams loomed and I still had high hopes of staying at the top. At the end of it all, I realized it wasn't all about just being okay. The results were in fact really horrible. I couldn't bear the idea of revealing my rather abysmal performance to my parents. I felt I had disappointed them. I failed them because they expected so much from me. That's when I felt real failure; that I had let down the very people who looked up to me, who believed in me.
I mustered the shreds of courage left in me and confronted them right after supper. I laid bare my results, expecting to receive a smack in the head as my eyes were shut tight but instead I received a touch on the shoulder. It was my dad. He asked me to sit as he explained to me how important it was to rise each time I fall, learning something from the failure, and refusing to allow it keep me down. This lesson taught me to view issues optimistically, knowing that all isn't lost after a fall. I picked up from there with the encouraging words of my dad and moved on. I went on to improve progressively as I had a different take now about what failure entailed. I eventually sat my final junior high exam and came out with distinction which earned me a scholarship I enjoyed till the end of senior high. The man who got me tuned wasn't with us anymore because he was involved in a motor accident before I sat the exam but I continually remember him because his inspiration words make me. I have a different take on failure now.
