In 4th grade, we were taught difficult things at a fast pace. We learned fractions, multiplying and dividing big complicated numbers and were taught definitions of difficult words that were hard to spell and memorize. I began falling behind and was confused most of the time. It didn’t help that the classroom always made me panic, it was small and crowded and smelled heavily of lavender air freshener.

As time went by, my teacher began to call me out for my grades and ability. I was trying to pay attention to what the teacher was saying as she did problems on the small whiteboard, we were doing fractions as a class and I couldn't solve the equation. She was picking on random students to come up and solve the fraction she had written, she pointed at me. I walked up to the board and put a random answer since I didn’t know how to solve it. 

“That’s not right.” she said harshly. “Have you not been paying attention? Can someone else solve it?” 

“I have, I just didn’t have enough time to think it through.” I lied. I wasn’t really paying attention, I gave up a while ago.

A kid named David volunteered to answer and he solved it quickly. As soon as he solved it, she called me out in front of the entire class. 

“See how fast he did it? See how smart he is? Why can’t you do it? Stop playing around.” She sneered.

“Sorry,” I mumbled as I walked back to my desk.

She would indirectly tell me I wouldn’t succeed by leaving small remarks here and there. She told me I needed to practice more, but she didn't offer any help. I hated going to her class, I hated learning and I hated listening to her talk.  I still remember her fiery, short red hair and her blue eyes that made you feel like she was staring into your soul.

For the rest of elementary from 4th to 5th grade, I gave little interest in my school work. I only did enough to keep it decent, sometimes I would even cheat by googling answers or asking a friend.

At the end of 5th grade, we moved houses so that meant a new school district. Instead of going straight to middle school, I was going to an intermediate school for 6th grade. I knew nobody and teachers weren’t familiar with me.

However, I did like to read in and out of school. I started getting into older books, novels for teens. I saw ads for a movie called Everything Everything and heard it was based on the book, so I got the book. I found the book to be pretty, the cover was white and matted. The writing and decorations of the leaves and flowers were brightly colored and shiny glossed and of course it had that delicious, new book smell and crispy untouched pages.

During that summer before 6th grade, my mom would make me go to the food bank with her. I didn’t like going there, the foodbank was surrounded in worn out parking lots and was right next to the highway so you could hear cars honking at each other. There was a small garden but it was always occupied with bees. The garden had pretty flowers of all colors and smelled of pollen. I didn't have a phone with data so I brought the book with me knowing we would be there for an hour or two.

When we got to the food bank, it was early in the morning, anywhere from 8 am to 10 am. It was already super hot and bright. There was a huge line of people waiting. There were very few places to sit and the ground was hot since it was all concrete. The air was heavy and musky from the humidity and heat.

As I was reading to pass time, a man standing next to us who was maybe in his 50s, pointed out the book. He very kindly said, “Reading makes your brain strong and smart, I think if you try you can do wonders in school. You must be very smart.”

I wasn’t sure what to say knowing my past grades. “Thank You, I’ll try my best.” He made me think that I could do well if I put in the effort.

Few weeks later, I started at Holt Crossing Intermediate, it was a big school, a huge upgrade compared to the one I had gone to for elementary. It had many rooms, a gym and cafeteria and air conditioning.  When the end of the first quarter came around, my grades were above decent but there was still room for improvements. I started paying more attention in all my classes. By the end of the second quarter I was on honor roll, I had all A’s and B’s.

As I went into middle school, I got honor roll all year, or about every quarter, even in some classes I would get over 100%.  I remember my highest being around 110% in social studies in 8th grade. I was so proud to go home and show my parents how well I was doing.

Now in highschool I still get honor roll and get good grades. I even enrolled in more advanced classes such as AP American history and accelerated biology and decided to expand more on my education by learning languages, taking classes that teach more than core subjects such as personal finance and even joining the debate club.

I blame the man for my increase of grades since he said he believed I would do good, even now when I struggle with issues, I think about him and use him as encouragement to continue on.

During the time period between 4th grade and the summer before 6th grade, I didn’t see myself doing well in school and thought I wouldn’t make it to college. Now all I fantasize about is going to college so I can pursue a career in history or law.

I wish I could see my 4th grade teacher, I wish I could tell her I made honor roll and even though she never said it directly, that I didn’t end up failing. I wish I could tell the old man that it was because of him I had the hope to succeed in school and I am. The funniest thing about the whole situation is that I still can’t work with fractions and I never finished the book.