My performance in school has traditionally been excellent, regardless of the subject. I may have had to work harder in other classes but nonetheless, I have almost always gotten A’s. Now this year's physics class has been no different, in terms of grade at least. 

My sophomore year physics class, I remember I would get lost, confused, my thoughts cluttered. Racing, but going nowhere, having no idea how to even start the problem. I passed with an A and even scored above 100 on one test, and yet I didn’t believe that I understood physics. I was surviving on luck.

My junior year, I approached my fourth hour physics, unsure. I did not expect the enthusiasm and overwhelming excitement that Mr. Tschanz brought, yet I found it enjoyable. 

When I listened in class, I heard the words being said, yet I could not wrap my head around how they connected. Every exam, I found myself fearful, honestly thinking I failed. Almost scared to ask questions; I didn’t want to slow the class down or be judged because I should understand. And I certainly did not provide answers either. If I dared, it was in a miniscule voice, that way if I was wrong, at least not everyone would think I am hopeless.

Going in for help was not something I had fathomed.Yet I would sign out of study hall, just to ask him a two second question. I stayed after class to clarify lessons. Or I would come in to make corrections and talk through problems. No matter what I asked, Mr. Tschanz took the time to explain it to me. Even if it was a small or obvious question (and countless were). I felt comfortable enough to ask him, knowing his answer would come with no judgment. 

One day during class, I made the comment that I felt I was just getting by on luck and I had no idea what I was doing in physics. And while his response was simple, it struck a chord. 

“Eventually being lucky enough times means you’re actually smart.”

I am by no means a physics genius, but I had never considered myself even proficient at it, despite what my grades said. But I couldn’t argue his logic either. I continued to go to class and became more confident in my ability to, eventually, understand the material. I know even if in the moment all my thoughts are tangled into a mass of string, one that I could not hope to untangle, the knots would eventually unweave and create a clear picture of the information. 

So thank you Mr. Tschanz, for answering every question. For taking time out of what you’re doing to explain a problem, or for sending me the notes when I missed a class. For taking the time to make sure all the holes in my knowledge were filled. And for helping me realize that my performance is my own and I am not just getting by on luck.