I have spent my whole life in accelerated, honors, and AP classes. I was an all A and B student until my junior year of high school when I decided to take honors pre-calculus, a class that I should have failed.

I worked my butt off and came to my teacher every day at lunch for the latter half of the semester, and that's the only reason I made it out with a C. That C was the reason that I decided to take regular calculus the following year, and I think it was one of the worst decisions that I ever made.

My senior year calculus teacher bullied me worse than any student ever could have.

It started on Friday of the first week of school. My response to high frustration levels is and always has been to cry. I am my own worst critic, and I beat myself up when I don't understand academics automatically. So I started to tear up in class that day, and my teacher says, "I've had people cry in class before, but it's usually at the end of the semester when they're failing!"

It wasn't a problem then. I understood that it was silly to be so frustrated after the first week of school, but it got worse. Any time I had a look of confusion on my face she would make a comment, "Why don't you cry about it? That'll help you understand."

I decided to handle it maturely, so I came into class early in the morning one day and asked to speak with her. I told her that I was feeling victimized, and I was having a hard time learning and was fearful of asking her for help. I told her that it's just an innate response of mine to cry under pressure, and she seemed understanding. She told me that she and her daughter weren't the crying type, so she just didn't get that. She seemed like she wanted to help me.

Then the second semester came. I had slid by and passed the first semester, but the second one proved to be much harder. I was being tutored by friends and lunch and would work on the homework for countless hours and get nowhere.

I came in early one morning again, asking for help. This time she was not understanding. She told me that it was my fault. That I wasn't doing the homework and that I wasn't trying, and if I did, I would be passing the tests.

I figured maybe she was right, so I started to work harder. I tried coming in early every day to get help, but she would turn me away and tell me that I didn't get there early enough, even though I had entered her room an hour and a half before the first bell would ring.

I tried harder in class, tried taking better notes, and volunteered for examples to be done on the board. But all of that quickly stopped, because if it took me longer than the other students, she would ask me if I was going to cry. She even told me that if I couldn't make it through her class, I would never make it through college. I tried so hard on all of the tests, but as soon as I got stuck, the crying and dry heaving and shortness of breath would start. Never before had I had text anxiety, but I sure suffered from it then.

I came to her again to talk about the anxiety during tests. She had seen me hand in half-finished tests with tears running down my cheeks. Surely she had heard me short of breath just sitting in my seat. But she told me that test anxiety wasn't real. That I had no reason to pretend because I just wasn't prepared. She continued to make comments about me in class, to my class, and to her other classes.

I had people coming to me in the halls telling me what she had said. I had other teachers asking me what was going on in that class, but I made the mistake of telling them that I was just having a hard time when I should have made moves to file a complaint.

I came to her once more with about four weeks left of the semester, telling her I was sure to fail and begging for help. She told me again that it was my fault. If I'd tried, I would be passing. If I came in for help, I would be passing. If I wasn't so focused on my boyfriend, whom I didn't sit next to or talk to in class, I would be passing. She told me again that I wouldn't make it through college and that some people just weren't cut out for higher education.

She sent emails home to my mom notifying her of my grade. When my mother responded and asked about all the times I came in, she covered her ass and made up an excuse. She told my mom that she believed "we" could pass calculus if I was willing to put in the effort.

I paid $100 of my own money to take another four week course to get the math credit I needed to graduate. I got accepted into my college's honors program. I got a scholarship for academics from said program, and I only took one math class, which I passed with an 86. I never have to take math again, but I still get anxious when there's conversions or math related questions on tests.

I have never taken a test the same since that class. It doesn't matter how much I prepare. Every time I sit down with a scantron, I hear her voice: "You'll never make it through college."