After receiving a disappointing grade, Arjun Rajkumar changes his view on what perfection means.
On an October morning, I sat at my cold, hard desk with a math test marked with a big 77 percent in red ink. To me, anything below an A- is failing. I thought this was the end of my life, and I would never succeed. Now in high school, this repeating moment has stayed with me.
As a kid, I was obsessed with the idea of perfection and fate. I believed everything should line up exactly the way I wanted it to, almost like magic. But I wasn’t a magician. When things didn’t go perfectly, I’d get frustrated.
I remember finally getting a new coloring set I had begged for, only to open the box and find the colored pencils scrambled. I burst into tears, demanding a new one because it wasn’t “perfect.” In my mind, the delivery driver should have checked each pencil, arranged them by the rainbow, and gently placed the box on my doorstep.
However, my fantasy clearly didn’t come true. I couldn’t yet understand that the world wasn’t built to meet my idea of perfect order. But now, in the beginning of my freshman year, I understand that the idea of “automatic perfection” can never happen. Realizing perfection can’t come by itself took a long time, and I partly have to thank my 8th grade math teacher.