Psychology & Education
I Failed at Almost Every Subject in 10th Grade — Now I Am Thriving in Life
I could have performed much better if there had been some changes in my environment
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This is a story I’ve been wanting to share for a long time, and I feel like now the timing is right. You know those stories where people tell you they hit rock bottom and then share how they made it out and overcame their struggles? That’s what this story is about from my experience.
Talking about the present, most people who know me would describe me as friendly, funny, and motivated. And I am. I can confidently say that I am in a place in my life that is not perfect, but in many ways, better than I could have ever imagined. I built a career for myself in a field I truly love, opportunities are opening up for me easily, and I am following my passions like traveling, living abroad, and writing.
Even more importantly, I am living a life that is true to myself. I give myself the freedom to be authentic and have real relationships. I have broken free from toxic relationships, learned how to intuitively and confidently navigate the space of human interactions, and am building and nurturing healthy and positive connections in my life. But it hasn’t always been like that.
Let’s go back to a time when the life I thought was normal crumbled — 10th grade in 2005.
I was always a relatively average to a good student. In hindsight, I could have performed much better if there had been some changes in my environment, but that’s another story. At the end of 10th grade, though, I failed miserably.
In the Austrian school system, grades range from 1 to 5, with 1 being “very good” and 5 meaning “failed.” At the end of the summer semester in 2005, I had six “5”s on my report card.
When you see a report card like that, you might think of a rebellious teenager with a grim-looking face covered by a gray hoodie. To make the story even spicier, add in some drug dealing and a bad boy, and you’d have the classic Hollywood story of a good girl breaking bad.
But that wasn’t me, even though my parents and teachers made me feel as if I was. Their explanation for the situation was, “We did everything we could, we don’t know what to do, there’s nothing else we can do.”
The reality was, I liked going to school, my friends and family meant everything to me, I wasn’t interested in drugs or anything risky at all and I was eager to learn. Yet, the circumstances were far from ideal.
They were an accumulation of stress at home, a fallout with my then-best friend, lovesickness, a harsh climate at school, and no adult who was really equipped to listen to me, make me feel safe and understood, and offer guidance and advice in what was, for me, a horrifying situation. At some point, this was just too much for me.
I was devastated when my best friend stopped talking to me. It was a toxic power game she had played many times before, yet this time she didn’t change her mind. I think this was the thing that really made me crack. Facing all of these issues I was desperate, didn’t know what to do, and couldn’t focus on school or my homework anymore.
Looking back, I wonder why no one ever said anything. This is not entirely true, though. I remember a couple of friends asking if I was okay and having long conversations with me, yet not having the power to change the situation. And there were other situations where friends would call me out for suddenly becoming boring, not hiding their annoyance at my change in temper.
When it comes to adults, though, I don’t remember a single conversation that was truly helpful. I remember a lot of annoyed and pitying looks, yelling, threats, and temper tantrums. The only situation I recall where an adult actively and empathetically approached me was my Latin teacher, who also took the role of school counselor, asking me if everything was alright as I had become so quiet in the last few weeks.
After talking with a friend, I took all my courage to call this teacher and ask for a private conversation at school. She replied that she only had counseling conversations with students after talking to their parents. And as my parents were not a safe space for me back then, this offer was off the table. Just like that.
My desperation and depression got worse. The people around me eventually grew bored and annoyed with me, and I spent the majority of my time in 10th grade alone. My friends were still there but had moved on with their own lives, and I often felt like a burden that wasn’t even invited to get-togethers and parties anymore.
When I hit rock bottom at the end of the school year, failing in six different subjects, I could at least finally restart. Something gave me a glimpse of hope as otherwise, my life felt shattered.
I changed schools and repeated 10th grade. It wasn’t my old school’s recommendation for me to change. I remember one teacher there telling me in a good mood and a smile on his face, obviously not understanding the trauma of the situation, that the class I would join had some issues with community building, “but well, you don’t need to be friends with your classmates.” Uhm, no, thank you.
Although it sounds counterintuitive, I changed to a school that was known as the “elite school” in my town. Why did they accept me with my report card? Good question.
I remember the interview with the headmistress, who was conservative and strict but not mean. A couple of days after the interview, she called us at home, saying, “I just wanted to let you know that, in case you decide to come to our school, we definitely have a free place for you!” Maybe that was a sign.
My belief in good says it was her seeing potential in me and wanting to give me a chance to prove myself. My impostor syndome says it was because they had to meet a certain number of students in the class to avoid splitting it up and I was the missing student.
The whole situation may not sound that dramatic, but for 16-year-old me who lost all her friends and was confronted with failure in school combined with people’s judgment and assumptions of not being smart enough to succeed, it was dramatic.
How did I make it out of there? What did I do so that I didn’t turn into a gray-hooded drug addict or worse?
First, I was really lucky with some of the friends I had back then who were a true support for me, at least in the first months of my downfall. Then, I started seeing a therapist. This was initiated by me, not by the adults around me. It took three attempts until I found someone I wanted to open up to, but how difficult it can be to find a good therapist is yet again another story.
This person provided something for me that none of the other adults around me seemed capable of providing — a person who remained calm when I told her about my struggles, someone who was genuinely interested and listened, and someone who provided guidance and knew what to do.
God knows how my life would have turned out if I had not had this person. It took a while, but eventually, I restored my self-confidence, could focus better in school again, and started to heal — a process that would take many more years. I graduated from the “elite school” three years later, proving to myself that I was not “too stupid” and opening the door to a better life.
Realizing that toxic relationships aren’t something that only happens to other people but is something that you yourself are entangled in is one of the hardest realizations you can have in life. Drawing and implementing consequences isn’t easier. I don’t have any contact anymore with most people from my school time, and it doesn’t bother me anymore what they may have thought of me or how wrongly they may have judged me. When I occasionally run across old classmates, I have to admit that they haven’t changed much. One thing I can’t say about myself after years of therapy.
Back then, I was deeply embarrassed about “needing” to go to therapy. Now, in my mid-30s, I see how much this has benefited me. Not only have I worked through my own generational trauma, issues, and pain, but I have also trained my muscles of critical thinking, empathy, compassion, and conversation for years. All skills that now serve me well, as I work as a psychologist myself.
Experiencing how life-changing the work of therapists can be made me decide to go into this field and it was one of the best decisions I have ever made. I graduated with honors in Psychology in 2016 and am currently working and living in Bali, living the dream.
Why am I sharing this story?
During this time, many things have concerned and shocked me. It’s astonishing how quickly people are willing to label and write someone off, in my case as “stupid.” There is a scarcity of genuine concern for those around us, and even fewer people actively reach out to those in need, listening and providing help.
There’s a reason teenagers are called minors until they reach the age of 18. They need our adult guidance and support to navigate life, celebrate their successes with us, and help them through difficult times, emerging stronger. And this doesn’t just apply to children and teenagers — adults need the support of other adults too!
So, what can we do to ensure no other teenager has to suffer the way I did back then? Remember, my story took a positive turn, but not every story does.
There are many steps that can be taken.
Implementing more accessible counseling services for students at school is crucial.
We need more teacher training to help educators spot signs of distress in students and manage class dynamics effectively.
A stronger collaboration between schools and parents, along with parental guidance, is essential.
And above all, we need more community building — a mindset of “we care for each other, we look out for each other, we support each other, we don’t step on each other.”
I really hope that by sharing my story, I can contribute to creating a more social and collaborative together where everyone is seen and supported in their unique individuality, leading to a happier and more thriving society where no one is left behind.
