When The Results Came

The dislike for the first day since the winter break increased. Enthusiasm to normally gossip about each other's holidays quickly evaporated.

Tension in the room was high. The air felt colder even though the air-conditioner was off. Everyone had a solemn expression on their terrified faces. Anyone who entered the room could immediately sense the anticipation screaming out. Palms were sweating excessively; hearts were thumping nervously in our chest.

The class once labeled the nosiest had its loudest scream of silence. Teachers wasted no time breaking our young hearts. It was hard to decipher whether they had joy giving us those grieving news or felt saddened by our loss.

When the papers were given, I could tell everyone had a similar thought. It was sketched all over their face, "How am I going to tell my parents?"

Everyone got disappointing grades. It felt as if our pride and dreams was being stamped on the floor and torn to pieces by a merciless monster. It was a harsh blow to those who felt they deserved more, those who really worked hard to exceed their parents' expectations and persisted in studying.

When all was said and given, silence filled the room once again. We were too shocked to talk, too numb to cry, too worried about our parents' reaction, too busy checking if the marks were counted wrong. We wondered. "If this was just the beginning, how are we supposed to cope with the difficulty for the next semester or moreover, years?"

My academic grades have always been good enough. Thankfully, I wasn't below average but not above either. Just average. But today, I got my first D. Never in my life have I experienced seeing a D in my report card and suffer the struggle of explaining to my parents why their first daughter got a D.

Marks and grades seem insignificant compared to wars and poverty. But for a 9th grader, or any student for that matter it is significant. You study and work hard, developing nervous breakdowns and headaches from all the confusion. And after all that it's still not enough.

"To succeed, you have to fail a few times."

But how many times do you have to fail before you succeed? When will it be enough?