Road to Failure

Since I could remember, my mother always told me that failure wasn’t an option. I never even thought of failure as being a part of my life until the second grade. It was October and we had just completed a series of tests to see where our placement was for things like math and reading. Once testing was over, different groups of people were called by different teachers and left the rooms at different times throughout the week. Some children didn’t get called at all. Some got called more than once. I thought I was in the clear until one day an older woman, who seemed very nice. I knew right away she was nice because she had that grandmother feel to her. She called my name along with a few other classmates. She brought us to the other end of the school and began to explain why we were called. She said we would be in Title 1 for the year. At first I had no idea what that meant or why I was a part of it. She said that we would be practicing our basic reading skills so we could catch up to our grades reading level. I had always viewed the Title 1 kids as the dumb ones. Now I was one of them. I never really thought about ever failing until then.

Second grade was pretty much normal besides the Title 1 lessons. During our English time twice a week, a group of us were called out one at a time. We’d spend thirty minutes to an hour, one on one, with Mrs. Ouimette. She was super nice. I honestly didn’t mind getting out of class for some time to read some books. In between books she’d let us make crafts or read us a book of our choice out loud. She tried her best to make learning fun even though she knew I despised reading. But in our classroom, you could tell who the Title 1 kids were. On top of our cubbies all students had a little basket to put small belongings in like books or papers. All the Title 1 kids all had the same paper books. Not a paperback book either. It was a book that had printed papers, which were folded in half, then stapled in the middle. It was embarrassing. It was like everyone knew we were behind. They knew we weren’t as smart as them.

Before I knew it third grade was here. We went through the same testing and once again I was placed in Title 1 among other classmates. This year was different though. I didn’t have the same teacher, the one I actually liked. This year my name was called by an old, tall, skinny, grey haired woman with a coconut haircut. She called off our names and would sigh in between them. Her teeth were stained as if she drank too much coffee. Her name was Mrs. Millisauskis and I knew that this wouldn’t be a fun year. Right from the start she didn’t make it fun. Last year I didn’t really mind going to Title 1 sessions. But this year I dreaded them. Finishing a book didn’t mean crafts or reading aloud. It meant more reading. I began to hate reading on my own again. Unlike the year before, we were placed in small groups instead of having one on one time with the teacher. Once again we had those paper books that went above our cubbies. So everyone still knew we weren’t as smart as them. I was disappointed that I would have to go back to my mom and tell her I was in Title 1 again. I felt as if I had failed once again. The year before, going into Title 1 was unexpected. This year, I hoped that I had gotten a high enough score to not be in it but I knew I shouldn’t get my hopes up. The year went on with our study groups and our horrible teacher. Even though I hated being in Title 1, I missed being with Mrs. Ouimette. She was about making learning fun, Mrs. Millisauskis didn’t care if we enjoyed it or not, we were getting our reading done.

After a very, very, long year summer was back before I knew it. I was going into the fourth grade. I was extremely nervous at first. I’d only heard scary things about Mr. Augello. Everyone said how strict he was and how he yelled if you didn’t do your homework. I knew right from the start I wanted to get on his good side. At the start of the school year he gave us a list of very generic books. He said that he expected us to read at least one within a month and should be starting another before the month was over. We would be quizzed on the books once we were finished, we would get credit for reading based on our scores. I wasn’t looking forward to reading that much but I knew I had to do it. I went through the list and I saw the book Matilda by Roald Dahl. Growing up for some strange reason I picked up the nickname of Matilda by my mother. So that book stood out to me and I decided that I would read it. Later that week my mom took me to the book store to get it. She didn’t mind because I think she was excited by the fact that I wanted a book.

Once I got it I began to read, and I didn’t stop. It wasn’t that I didn’t know the ending; I’ve seen the movie a billion times. I was just hooked by the author. Once I was done with Matilda I picked another book out by Roald Dahl. I had to have read about 4 books by the time October testing came back around. I took it with the mindset that I would be back in Title 1 and I would have failed myself once again. Regardless of that though, I kept reading. Within a week a familiar face came into my classroom, Mrs. Millisauskis. She began to go through the names. She had passed the D’s. I thought “Maybe she skipped me” or “maybe she’s going by first name”. The list came to an end though and my name was still not called. The Title 1 kids went out with her. Probably to talk about their upcoming year together, while I was still in the classroom. I couldn’t believe it was happening. I passed my reading exam. I didn’t have to be in Title 1. I didn’t fail myself this year. I was proud of myself. I was excited to go home and tell my mom that I wouldn’t be in Title 1 this year. I looked at my cubby and thought about how it wouldn’t be filled with small paper books. Instead I filled it with books by Roald Dahl.

Throughout the year, every book I read was by Roald Dahl. I read classics such as The BFG, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and James and the Giant Peach. My all time favorite ended up being The Witches. For the first time since I had ever remember reading, I actually enjoyed it. I didn’t cringe every time we had silent reading time. I began to look forward to it. Fourth grade ended up not being such a bad year. I wasn’t in Title 1, I enjoyed books for the first time, and Mr.Augello was a pretty cool guy. He wore a different tie every day of the school year. Even during the holidays he had ones that would light up and sing. It was the first time in two years that I was back with my classmates and wouldn’t have to leave. It was the first time in the past two years that I had felt that I had not failed my mom. She always set high standards for my siblings and I. She always would encourage us to achieve our goals. But made sure we put in the work to achieve it, no one else. That’s why I really enjoyed 4th grade. My teacher and my mom were similar in the fact that they wanted the best for you, but you had to put the work in to get there. Having Mr. Augello be so strict made me force myself to read for the reason that I didn’t want to make him upset. If I would have had a more laid back teacher, I don’t think I would have put the work in. I probably would have been in Title 1 again that year, but I wasn’t. That year though I didn’t feel like a failure, I was proud of myself.