Math has never been my best subject. Or even close.
I never received excellent grades in math — always B’s with the occasional C’s. One day in middle school I came home with a C on my report card in my math class. I was then grounded until I got my grade up.
I pleaded with my parents, attempting to convince them I simply could not do better than a C. Math was hard, after all, and I was applying my best effort. Or so the argument went.
My parents, however, insisted that wasn’t true. I wasn’t trying hard enough, I wasn’t asking for enough help, I wasn’t paying enough attention in class…yadda yadda yah.
“A ‘C’ is average, and you are not average. You can do better.”
It didn’t seem to matter what I said though, there would be no television, no friends and no dance classes until my grade was a B or better.
So I buckled down. I took better notes, I asked for help, and my dad stayed up with me every night double checking my homework. Slowly, my grade began to improve.
I never learned to enjoy math, but I did realize I had to try a little harder in algebra and geometry than I did in English or history. I also learned that my parents were right. (Don’t you hate that?!). I could do better than a C.
This is one of the biggest lessons I learned growing up, and probably why I still remember it so distinctly. My parents have always pushed me to put forth my 100% best effort. It wasn’t until I was grounded for not doing so that I realized what I am capable of.