As an elementary school student, I always found myself ahead of the curve academically. I was constantly reassured by teachers that I had a promising future, and of course I soaked all that praise up and while I stayed humble, I secretly carried around with me a swollen ego. I really believed them, and maybe they could have been right in a perfect world. The thing is, though, as an 8 year old, your biggest concern in life is whether to choose chocolate or strawberry milk with your lunch. If you're lucky, the pressure of mental health and crazy family drama doesn't phase you at that sweet age. Little did I know back then that in high school I would be struggling hard to get my grades above Cs and Ds.

Throughout early high school I never considered myself "dumb", but rather recognized that my strengths were not so much academic. I felt really proud of my friends and peers on the opposite end of the spectrum who were soaring high academically. I was really content with my slightly-below-average report cards. That is, until sophomore year when things really started going downhill. I failed math, and barely passed chemistry, biology, and Spanish. Yup, a big fat F on my report card. While I acted like it didn't phase me as a defense mechanism to compensate for crushed pride, failing a class really did take a toll on me. It is an awful feeling to try so hard to understand something that to many comes naturally, and to fail at it. Not to mention mental health complications and just life in general getting in the way; it quite frankly sucks. If you knew me during Sophomore year, I'm sorry for being a miserable lump most of the time. High school is hard, man.

But hey, that's not to say I didn't have good days too. A specific instance sticks out to me from that same school year when I got a personal best on a math test. I was elated, I thought I finally had the chance to redeem myself and my grade. My mom would be so proud, I thought. Skipping over to my lunch table of friends waving a paper in my hand, I exclaimed happily, "I got a C+ on my math test!" to which I was met with some disapproving looks and laughs from surrounding tables. Their disapproval hurt, but I was so happy that I didn't care.

So, to the people who judged me for my poor grades, I just want to thank you. Thank you for dragging me down so hard that it forced me to grow a thicker skin. Thank you for forcing me to soul search, bringing me to my current attitude and mindset: that numbers don't define me. I'm proud of my struggle, and if you're reading this as someone who is having difficulty with school, know that I love you and think you are brilliant regardless of the numbers on your report card. Life is hard, but you're resilient.