Everyone knows one teacher that absolutely terrifies him/ her.  For me, that teacher was Mrs. Gerrets. I wasn’t afraid of Mrs. Garrets as a person because my mom and she were friends, but I was afraid of her academically.  I had never taken an honors history class, and I had heard that Mrs. Gerrets was extremely difficult, especially for someone who strives to maintain a 4.0 GPA.

The day before our first test in Mrs. Gerrets’s class, she told everyone to sit in a circle on the floor because she had something important to tell us about the test.  She told us that this test would be one of the most difficult tests we would ever take; my anxiety and stress levels immediately increased. She told us that it was normal for her students to get an F on the first test.  When I heard this, my heart dropped into my stomach. As someone who aspires to get all A’s on her report card, I considered a C to be an F. Getting an actual F was my biggest fear. I left that class that day feeling hopeless and trying to prepare myself for failure; however, I still planned to study as much as I possibly could.

The night before the test I studied more than I ever had before.  First, I printed out my typed notes and highlighted everything I thought was important.  The paper smelled like Sharpies when I had finished because I had basically highlighted the entirety of my notes.  Then I hand wrote the notes on one piece of paper. My notes were 10 pages long, so I had to write in my smallest handwriting.  My hand ached with every minuscule scratch the pencil made, but I was determined to do my best on this test.

After the test, I had no clue how I had done.  It was one of those tests where you know you either did really well or really badly.  I stressed over my grade for weeks, along with all of the other tests and projects I had for my other classes.

After about a week, Mrs. Gerrets announced that she would be returning our tests.  Before she handed them out, she gave us one final speech. The speech she gave was a warning that our grades were not the end of the world if they were bad, and she said that the majority were bad.  I waited with immense pressure in my stomach, my anxiety climbing as every minute went by. She placed my paper upside down on my desk. I flipped it over as slowly as I could. I looked at my grade, and I began to hysterically cry.  My friend next to me turned to me to ask how badly I had done. I responded with snot streaming down my beat red face, “No, I’m crying because it’s good.” I had received a 93, an A.

This was the moment I knew I could achieve high grades in honors.  This experience taught me that I can succeed in my studies. Now I am in three honors and three AP classes because I enjoy learning and succeeding.  I now know that I can accomplish anything I put my mind to academically.