Pressure to Succeed

Pressure to Succeed

Teach me Your way, O Lord, and lead me in a smooth path. I would have lost heart, unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. (Psalm 27:11a,13 NKJV)

The first-grade teacher appeared suddenly at my left shoulder and said in a low, firm voice, “Debbie, let me see your paper.”

My hand froze with the pencil in mid-air, and my heart tripped into overdrive. I knew I was in huge trouble.

Every week we had a test of arithmetic facts. The problems started out simple: 1+1=2 and 2+2=4. I understood those. By week three, we had 3+8=11, which was harder to remember, but I could count on my fingers. Teacher said I shouldn’t, so I hid my hands under my desk.

Then came subtraction. At first, I could do the simple problems, but each test got harder. The classroom rule was that if we failed the test, the next week we repeated the same one. And repeated it and repeated it until we passed.

Several months into the school year, I was embarrassed to be three tests behind even the other slow kids. I can’t figure out how to do this stuff, I thought to myself. How are the other kids managing? There must be something wrong with my brain.

Glancing out the window, I thought of the two happy weeks I stayed with my family at Miango Rest Home. But that was over. I missed my little brothers and new sister Cindy. Ever since they left, I cried myself to sleep at night, ate only the smallest serving of food each meal, and spent most of the class-time hours daydreaming about flying home to Egbe. Summer was just too far away.

Thinking Outside the Box

Then I had a genius idea. Because I couldn’t memorize the math facts, when I got the test results back, I corrected the answers and kept them. And if I got caught cheating, maybe they would send me home.

Once the teacher started the timer for the test, I slowly pulled open the drawer under my seat, quietly took out the sheet, and slid it under the new test paper.

After breezing through the first couple of problems, I got stumped. So, I lifted the corner of the test and copied down the matching answer from my cheat sheet. Then I did the same with the next problem. About halfway through, I felt confident. Now I’ll finally pass this silly old test.

In Hot Water

Suddenly, a large shadow appeared to my left and the teacher loomed above my shoulder. “Let me see your paper,” she said in a rough whisper.

I handed her my test sheet and looked down at my pencil as I twirled it in my fingers.

Then she pointed to my desk. “Hand me that one too,” she said. Her lips pressed into a thin line, her voice shook with anger, and her face had turned as red as a strawberry.

My stomach did a flip-flop. The teacher is scaring me.

Next, she held the papers together and captured my eyes with a searing gaze. Using both hands, she lifted my test sheets, pinched them in the top center, and slowly tore them straight down the middle right in front of my eyes.

Her angry glare held my eyes and shot like an arrow straight into my heart. As tears spilled onto my cheeks, my lower lip quivered, and I whimpered, “Why did you do that?!”

“You were very naughty.” Then she turned and swished back to her desk.

I felt the eyes of every classmate glance at me as I sat there, head down, elbows on the desk, with hands pressed to my cheeks.

A few minutes later, the teacher said, “Class, hand your papers in. We’re done for the morning. Time to line up for lunch.”

When lunch and rest hour were over, it was harder than ever to concentrate on schoolwork. The teacher didn’t say anything more to me, and the humid afternoon air hung heavily in the room. I felt like I was trapped in a tomb.

What Should I Do Now?

The hands on the clock moved ever so slowly. Finally, at 3:30 p.m., the teacher announced, “It’s time to clean your desks.”

I pushed the afternoon assignment sheets on top of some other ones in the back of the drawer and tossed my pencil bag in after them. Various papers were already jammed in between my books. I spied my favorite pencil, the one with the best eraser, lying on the corner of my desktop and tossed that in too.

As I started to push in the heavy drawer, the teacher walked up. She peered in and said, “You won’t find a treat in your drawer on Monday morning if you don’t clean that up.” Then she moved down the aisle.

I knew what she meant. Last Monday, all of us kids excitedly pulled open our desk drawers, and I saw in my friend’s drawer in front of me, on top of her neatly stacked books, a red-wrapped candy. But I was once again embarrassed and disappointed.

I slammed the wooden drawer closed. I don’t know what to do with those pieces of paper, and I think they’re fine. Maybe I’ll still get candy on Monday.

When the bell rang signaling the end of the day, I grinned, happy to be done with school. We lined up at the back of the room, and one of the students held open the cookie tin. Each child reached in, pulled out their afternoon treat, and hurried down the hall.

I stared into the cookie tin. Ginger cookies again. My smile turned into a frown. I hate ginger cookies. This has been a very bad day.

Looking Back

What compelled me to cheat in first grade? Since I couldn’t grasp subtraction, I needed extra explanation in a way my brain understood. Either I didn’t know I could seek help, or I didn’t care enough to try. Consequently, I kept getting papers filled with red x’s.

That event unsettled me greatly, and many questions swirled through my mind this week. If I didn’t receive corporal punishment, why would this have been so traumatizing? Was her chastising glare enough to shake me to the core and solidify the thought that I was unworthy of love?

Perhaps because I was such a tender-hearted little girl seeking acceptance and affirmation, the teacher’s punishing words hurt as much as a ruler to the hand. I may not be certain of all the details on that day, but the shame and fear impacted my life.

What I Know Now

During my first four years at KA, I had a difficult time understanding most of the subjects. I missed out on certificates, candies, and trinkets that were doled out to the high achievers. Each time I looked at the colorfully decorated progress charts on the wall with gold stars marching along on everyone’s row but mine, my heart sunk to my toes.

Not until my fifth grade on furlough, did things start to fall into place. Since the academic expectations of the California schools weren’t as rigorous as KA’s, I had a partial review year. I relaxed and eventually improved in understanding and retaining information.

The experience as a six-year-old left me with a fear of failure, especially in front of other people. I don’t want to try something unless I’m sure I’ll succeed.

But I now realize that every mess-up is a lesson learned in what not to do, and I’m not the only person who’s blown it. Additionally, I’m growing in the acceptance that my righteousness comes solely from the Lord, not from perceived flops and failures.

I’m learning to ask questions, accept helpful correction, and share my ups and downs with others. When I confess feelings of shame and inadequacy to trusted friends, the comfort and cheer I receive from them is a living illustration of God’s love for me.

Instead of chastising myself when I make a mistake or don’t know something, I can access God’s grace in all situations and encourage myself when I need it. Because of my experience, I now find chances to encourage someone else who needs it.

Link it to Your Life

Was there a time when you felt pressure to lie, cheat, or steal in order to protect yourself or avoid punishment? Did you feel you were wrongfully treated when you had a legitimate need or desire? What have you learned about where to look for acceptance and affirmation? Write down one step you can take today toward reducing your need for perfection.

Dive Deeper

What are some things you can do to remind yourself that you are God’s precious child, loved and accepted even when you fail? Is there someone you know who needs this same kind of encouragement right now?

Father, thank you that you provide a path of hope, understanding, and assistance to get me through rough waters. Please help those who feel like they are caught in an unwinnable situation today. Amen

KA classroom, children seated at desks
Classroom at Kent Academy in the early 70s. Photo courtesy of Eileen Porter Allen

One thought on “Pressure to Succeed

  1. I don’t know what kind of training teachers of that era got in properly ”meting out discipline” / being ”just/ fair” but it seems to have left a lasting impact on ALOT of ”underachieving” students. I had a similar type of teacher for 2nd/ 3rd grades in a two teacher / 2 room schoolhouse in SE Cameroun and I don’t wish those ”experiences” on my worst enemy! She seemed to take it out on a boy recently orphaned of his young mother . The boy was a ”genius” as far as seeming to understand classwork a grade or two above but he just couldn’t keep his mind on his own classwork. The boy was finally tutored by the kind wife of a medical doctor but officially he lost a grade so we graduated separately. Once she made me write long sentences after burning my fingers while ”discovering electricity”- which we didn’t have at our house. I basically hated her ever after- to the point that I don’t remember her name but I remember each of the names of others who sympathized with me in my ignorance/ bodily pain. Some teachers seemed to have a ”witch spirit” in their disregard for basic empathy/ willingness to give ”remedial help” to those who weren’t capable of A+ work. On the other hand I had a teacher who gave me some grades I didn’t merit in my final yr at Jos- otherwise I may have failed to graduate with the rest of my classmates since I ”passed” with the bear minimum of required classes/ grades. Bless him! Poor examples of ”Chr character” left their negative imprint on us at a very young age but God in His infinite mercy has brought us thru the ”refiner’s fire” / ”reshaping” us at the ”potter’s wheel” even tho some of us have needed some extra patient work to not be thrown in the trash bin! David Raun

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