I had taken my latest math test the week before, and today I was to find out the results. “Okay class, settle down, please. We will begin as soon as I finish passing out your tests,” my teacher, Mrs. Plaster, said. I was sitting at my desk, talking to my friend Jack about the previous night’s game, Thunder versus Golden State; suddenly the paper landed on my desk. I smiled and flipped it over, my smile quickly faded, as I saw the C on my test. Once everyone got theirs back, the comparisons started. Some did well, others didn’t, but no one seemed as frustrated or concerned about their grade as I was. I have overcome many things in my life: divorce, moving schools, and adversity, but I never thought conic sections would be the most challenging.

My junior year of high school continued to be a constant battle with math. I had decided to take honors pre-calculus; I did not know it would be so difficult. Every day in fifth period, the challenge began. We started with notes and transitioned into working on the homework. I would ask questions as my teacher taught the notes and often used our personal homework time in class to ask more. I would even stay after school to work on my homework and to ask additional questions. For the first three months of the year, I had a vague understanding of the material, enough to achieve the As I have gotten my whole life. It wasn’t until after the test on conic sections that I learned I needed even more assistance if I wanted to earn an A.

My mom noticed I was extremely frustrated with my math class. She suggested a tutor. This was a shameful idea to me. I had never had a tutor and getting one felt wrong. Math had always been doable and I was determined not to let this class be the one that would break me. I wanted to continue earning the As I have earned my whole life on my own.

The day I got my math test back continued as usual, but I couldn’t get the thought of my grade out of my head. When my mom came home from work she asked, “How was your day?” I told her about the math test. She was disappointed and somewhat frustrated that I didn’t ask for the additional help I needed. In the end, I decided I should get a tutor in order to raise my grade and better understand the material. The following Monday, I met with a tutor. The first couple times I felt stupid; I was so frustrated that I had to have a tutor. I was more self-conscious than anything else. I didn’t want anyone to know that I didn’t understand a subject enough that I required extra help.

After a few weeks of going to tutoring, I became comfortable getting help. This was reflected by my tests: my grades started to go up, and I felt better about my understanding. The school year ended and I had earned the A that I wanted. When my report card came in the mail, I realized that I could not have achieved my goals without my persistence and the help of others. Through this experience I learned that I’m not willing to settle for mediocre results, and I will to do whatever it takes to achieve the best, even if that means admitting I need additional help.

Before this experience in my math class and getting a tutor I thought asking for help was shameful. Since then, I see there are many people in need of assistance that are not afraid to ask for help. My opinion of asking for help has changed from being a shameful idea to realizing that asking for help will allow me to exceed in college along with my future career out in the world.

Blake Gibson