Most of my life, I believed school had never been worth my time. I figured, I could be spending this time doing fun things with my friends, playing video games, stuff like that. School in my eyes was just a glorified daycare and a waste of my day. My parents, like many others I knew, never once told me that I had to go to college, but I knew through the way they acted and talked about college that was what they expected. There was never any conversation about anything other than college, the question was always, “what college are you going to go to?” It wasn't until I got into high school that I began to care about school and really had some ambition for college. I attribute that to the crippling fear of failure really setting in for me. It was 9th grade, I had a bunch of friends in my physical science and algebra class, so I was excited. Before this year, my grades were never stellar, but they weren't bad overall. Then midterms happened, and my grades were posted. I had been doing ok in the class but, all things considered, I didn’t really care. Once the midterms were posted, I was so close to failing both those classes. This had never happened to me before, and it was mortifying. My head was pounding, I could feel the anxiety making my heart ache on the bus ride home that day. When I got to my house, I hid in my room, hoping my parents just wouldn't notice I was even there. I realized that from this point forward there was no reset button for my failures. I couldn't just start over and call it good. I laid in bed staring at the ceiling, petrified of how angry my dad would be. I could hear him saying over and over with a stern look on his face, "how are you going to get into a good college with grades like this?" About 5:30, I heard my parents pull into the driveway, praying they wouldn't come up to talk to me. Luckily, I wasn't called down until dinner. I could barely eat, I just sat there in silence staring down at my plate. Finally, after what felt like years, my dad said "we're not mad about your grades, just disappointed." I should've been relieved that they weren’t going to punish me, but instead it felt like a rock had settled in my throat as I realized what that meant. In a few days and my parents are toting me off to parent teacher conferences with them, as usual. My physical science teacher, Mr. Piggot, told me and my parents how smart I was, which was totally contradictory to my grades. He told me that I could do better if I just put in the work instead of coasting through. It was embarrassing to sit there and listen to them talk about my lazy tendencies. I felt all sorts of guilt and shame, knowing I could’ve prevented it. I never wanted to fail again from that point onward. Mr. Piggot installed in me that I have the potential, and that I needed to work on really using it. Every day after that, I thought about what he said whenever I caught myself slacking. I pushed myself harder than I had before. When it came time to look into colleges, I knew I couldn’t slack off on this one either. I had to work hard, and get in so I could make a life for myself. I wouldn't fail again, because life gives no reset buttons.