Sunday, July 8, 2012

Tests

The first test I ever failed was when I was in Grade One.

It was a simple one, really, about drawing shapes using crayons. Ovals and rectangles, I remember. But one of my classmates finished early, and she was allowed to leave right after submitting her work. And when I saw that, I was filled with unreasonable panic. I thought that everyone was leaving and that I'm running late, especially since we were on our last subject for the day. I thought that I lost track of time and I'd be left behind by my Mom who was waiting for me outside. It was not true of course, since the rest of my classmates were still on their tables, drawing away, and I even remember one of my seatmates looking incredulously at me for hastily finishing my sloppy work. I still remember how my teacher looked at me with surprise and poorly-masked disappointment as I submitted to her my work. And how she scribbled the word "Failed" on it in cursive letters and red ink.

I can still remember the confused expression my Mom gave at seeing the grade I got for that simple seatwork. She did not get mad like most stage mothers would have since she never had been that kind of Mom. Our reactions were mostly of puzzlement actually, since we both know that I've been getting nothing but stellar grades ever since I started school. But there was no need to dwell on it. Since it never happened again. For a very long time at least.

I sailed through the rest of elementary school without exerting too much effort. I was a good student, but it wasn't because I wanted to be one. Mostly, it was because that was how I was made to be. I understood instructions right away. I was given the authority to lead. I never really studied for my lessons. I just remembered. I was whisked away in all sorts of contests, whether they be in Math, Science, Journalism, or even in Drawing. I was great and my teachers loved me for bringing honor to our school. I was a great student, and somehow, I managed to graduate on top of my class.

My high school was much tougher than my elementary school experience. It was much more stressful, and physical exhaustion became my worst enemy. The fight to the top was much worse too, as I came to contend with some of the best students Paranaque and the nearby towns have. By graduation though, I still managed to be on top. The how of it still escapes me, since the competition there was the tightest I've ever had in my whole life and there had been a lot of close calls. Yet there I was, still puzzled as I went up the stage to receive the gold medal.

College was much more exciting, since this time around, I was competing with some of the best students of the country. And the trials I faced were much worse than those I faced in high school. And yet somehow, I still managed to make myself be considered among the best. I do not understand it really. I was just surprised that I ended up having the highest GWA among my Chem batchmates by graduation time. I was tied with one of my classmates true, but nevertheless, that honor was more than I'd ever expect to get in UP.

Graduate school was different. We were much fewer, for one thing, although our collective IQ was all the more higher even if GWA's were much less publicized as compared to undergrad. I must have had good grades since my teachers tell me so whenever they look at my record. They smile at me, thinking that I was the same undergrad student. That same overachiever. That same leader. That same student. That same person.

And then my personal revolution came.

Ad then I had my first real close call with my first "tres".

And then the seemingly impossible finally happened. I failed. And though it was only by a few points, I still failed. For the first time. In the most important exam I might have had in my graduate school life. And with that failure, I lost it all. I was severed. And cast out.

And here I am, still puzzled at what happened. That thrice I've not only made it through but even topped all my batchmates and in the fourth time I flopped. Big time.

My classmates used to ask me what my secret was. They used to make jokes about borrowing my brain for their own exams. They used to marvel at me, and all I can do in response was to sheepishly laugh with them and try to keep my head down because I do not fully understand it myself. All my life I've been used to being that guy who always excels. And this failure is just so strange, it still feels weird and even unreal. That there is this small yet manic part of me which thinks that there must have been a mistake. Or some crazy conspiracy behind my failure.

Oh, I can laugh about it now. And in fact, it is now a common joke subject between me and my close friends. You must believe me when I say that my biggest reaction to my academic failure is still puzzlement rather than bitterness. And I can dwell and pick on it as much as I want to but in the end, I know that I did make my choice and all I can do now is to shake my head and smile ruefully.

Mostly though, I am amazed at how I got through that. Most people with my background might have had a breakdown at their first big failure, and it is known that many have committed suicide for similar reasons. I must thank my friends for not making it worse. And I am only grateful that I decided to fix all my insecurities first, otherwise, I might have had a harder time dealing with it.

Sometimes I wonder if I did not break away from the tedium of it all, I would have still been up there on the stage of academic achievement. But I suppose if I did not stop to develop my individuality, I'd be dubbed as a weak sauce without any real personality. I might have been outwardly successful but inwardly empty. My path was threatening to convert me into someone like that and I did not want that to happen to me. So I had to go. I made a choice.

***

One night, I went home exhausted. It was already past midnight as I sat down on the couch to take off my leather shoes. I looked at myself in the mirror and saw all the things that could have been. All those achievements I could have added to my shelf. All the prestige that would have come with it. All the clapping hands and the admiration of the audience. But I surprised myself by simply smiling at it all. Yes, I might have gone there but at the moment, I am happy. I am still happy, and that is all that matters.

Sometimes the questions are more complicated than the answers.




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