DAPPLED
LIGHT

It was a regular day at my primary school. My favorite teacher walked in with a stack of papers in her arms. She announced, “I finished grading your exams, the most well-behaved kid gets their result first!”

I had no idea why anyone in their right mind would want their grades announced publicly, but the whole class was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Then my teacher looked me in the eye and smiled. She said,

“Alice, you're a good girl. You’re the best in your entire grade.”

What happened next was a bit of a blur. I walked up the stage to receive the “Outstanding Student” award. My parents kept the certificate in a nice binder. Everyone was so proud of me. And then, the following year, I was the top student again. And then the next, and the year after…

Soon, walking up the stage became part of a routine. It was not special anymore; it was what it should be. Twelve-year-old me somehow believed that,

"This is who I am now, I have to be a good girl, or I'm nothing."

With my good grades, I got into an exceptional secondary school. But when you put all the top performers in one room, I no longer stood out. School got harder, and I began to fall behind.

I was that stubborn kid who needed to understand everything when they learn - maybe that's why I did so well when I was young. But when the material got more advanced, it's impossible to explain the complex ideas all at once. So I often got stuck in class because I couldn't make sense of some minor details.

My classmates tried tutoring me during breaks. They all gave up eventually because I kept asking questions and refused to "JUST MEMORIZE THE FORMULA!!!"

Everyone, me included, was so frustrated with me that I stopped asking for help. I thought the whole class must understand the material perfectly well. I'm the only stupid one not getting it.