COLD FEET (Ongoing✅✅)

CHAPTER TWO

I had the fear of failure…

I adjusted the frame of my large-rimmed glasses dropping on my nose and looked up at the Computer Studies teacher; Mr Obi spoke as he rested his hands in front of me, on my desk; 

"You see, for you to pass my subject, you must first fail." I was a Ss1 student…

We all stared at him with our faces puce with utter confusion. 

How on earth would a teacher encourage us to fail his subject?

"Because, failure is the beginning of…' As if reading my mind, he continued and the whole class echoed:

" SUCCESS!!" In response.

I wondered why Mr Obi always laid emphasis on this quote during every of his lessons.

Personally, I disdained the quote. For someone that was always afraid of failure, it didn't sit right with me. My fear for failure began since I was about entering secondary school.

I had been diagnosed with a learning disorder…

"What's 12+23+9?!" Dad had asked raising his voice at me, demanding the answer of the basic maths for the third time.

I mumbled words counting my jittery fingers underneath my breath. "53." I answered.

"Are you sure you are serious at all?" My Dad barked. I counted the tip of my fingers again.

I hated maths. Because, I had a lot of anxiety when it came to counting numbers. Actually, I always found it difficult to solve basic mathematics problems like addition, multiplication and subtraction, to understand word problems and fractions, understand graphs and charts, avoided telling the time and reading clocks, and even count money or make change!

This was my condition; dyscalculia 

My parents never took me to a doctor to find out but I had read it up on Google one evening after listening to a radio program on learning disorder in children.

I failed maths in most of my exams in junior secondary school that I soon disliked it as a subject. Having authoritarian as parents, failure was not an option. You fail and you risk spending your WHOLE holiday reading hard  and preparing ahead for the next term. 

Because I usually failed maths, I always spent mine taking maths lessons with my Dad teaching and giving me numerous math problems to solve. 

This meant I was going to always be shouted at and sometimes be smacked for failing simple math problems. 

"Ometere, what's wrong with you now? Ordinary simple addition you can't do it correctly!" My Dad flared up at me- this time around, it was the fifth time.

"Honey, what is it?" My mum strolled into the living room where we sat.

"Ah, Honey, I am tired oh, I don't know what to do to this girl again, I asked her to add 12+23+9, she didn't get the answer!" my dad uttered in frustration.

"Ah, Ah, no wonder she got 16 over 40 in her maths exam,  you see, I told you that we should get her a private tutor that'll also be coaching her  in school, you didn't agree, now see," my mum said.

I was also  tired of my condition myself, trust me.

"No, no, Honey, don't be saying that! Are you trying to say I don't know how  teach my daughter very well again?!" My dad rebuffed.

"No, all I am saying is that what she needs is consistent coaching, you only get to teach her during the holidays because of your job, she needs constant monitoring, with a tutor, she'd be improving,"  Mum suggested.