Success and Failure Go Hand in Hand

Throughout my middle school years, I had to take Home Economics, a subject that taught students creative and practical skills. Since it’s main focus was non-academic and I lacked the skills, I questioned the importance of it. I asked myself, Why do I have to learn how to cook traditional Pakistani dishes, stitch, sew, create decorative pieces from scrap, make stain glass paintings etc.? Of course, it reflected my inabilities and my singular drive towards only studying hard-core sciences like Chemistry, Physics, and Math. The first time I sat in the class, I could barely follow the instructions of my teacher. Everyone was diligently stitching with thimbles fixed on their fingers and sewing kits filled with tools I couldn’t even name. I could hardly put a thread through the eye of the needle. It seemed so complicated and despite the fact that I have tiny fingers, I maneuvered them as if they were dead logs. My projects were a mess, with unequal distancing and crooked directions of the stitches. Soon I realized that I had to be more scrupulous. Three years later, on the day of our practical exam, I finished stitching the required patterns before anyone in class. After my teacher graded it, she gave it back with a wink. When I got home, I gave that piece of cloth to my youngest sister, who had started talking for a few months then. With her green eyes bulging, I am sure this is what she was thinking, but had no idea how to say: “Do you seriously think I need this?”

Success in Home Economics came after many failed attempts in my beginning days, so when I completed the three-year program, my house was littered with projects and supplies that I accumulated. I had created so many art pieces, from stitched handkerchiefs to beautiful Italian dough flowers. Today they are hanging somewhere on the other side of the globe. My parents framed everything and left it in our hometown. I just hope they survive through the sand storms that come every so often in our semi-desert village, where houses are open spaces with four mud walls.

Effective and Ineffective Websites

I compared two websites that I often use to refresh some concepts or learn something new. I like both of them for the material that they offer. However, I noticed some differences in the structure of their websites, which made me have a preference for one over the other.

I consider edX’s website to be neat, concise, and well organized. (You can access the website here: https://www.edx.org) With a branding statement “Take great online courses from the world’s best universities” you immediately know what the website has to offer. There are tabs on the top, which gives you exactly what you need to know: how it works, the courses that are offered, the universities that are participating, and lastly how to register. I also like how the new classes that are offered can be found as you scroll down. More importantly, you can narrow down your choices by filtering through the subject and university.

On the contrary, I find Khan Academy’s new website structure a bit less engaging. (You can open the website by clicking this link: https://www.khanacademy.org) With the catchphrase “You only have to know one thing: You can learn anything” I was not entirely sure if the message of online lessons through the website was clear. It occurred to me that someone might interpret this as a platform where the reader is convinced of the importance of learning anything. I also think that having a largely empty background with three options (students, teachers, and parents) that takes you to log in through your Facebook or Google+ is off-putting. If you are new to the website, you might not know that you can open the videos without signing in.

Reflecting on My Failure

I opened my pocket dictionary to the word failure after pondering on what to write for this assignment. Failure is defined as lack of success. According to the definition, one academic failure came to mind right away: getting a C in Probability class. It taught me that I have limitations and that I can’t always excel in every area of math. It didn’t come as shock to me because this was one of those topics that I am not really comfortable with, but it confirmed my weakness. It also made me realize that doing miserably in a class didn’t necessarily mean that I had failed as a student. I had done my best under the circumstances. It is just that I should have done things with a different approach. If I could go back to the first day of class, I would take an online class – perhaps one of the many edX classes on Probability – and study from different sources.

Another academic failure in my college years was when I hit all-time low grades in my Analysis (Advanced Calculus) class. Having finished my freshman year with excellent grades, I was determined that I would do the same in the coming semesters. Maybe it was the added pressure to be perfect or the material was simply difficult to grasp, but things started to get foggy. I got single digit scores on my homework and my first test was no different. It was the first that I had done so poorly. I didn’t understand what I was doing wrong. My method of studying had worked all these years and now I was performing low. I felt dejected because no matter how much I tried I didn’t comprehend the problems. I did not want to quit because I didn’t want to admit defeat. It also didn’t help that I was taking 20 credits that semester with 20 hours per week going to my part-time, tutoring job. I knew I was under time pressure, but in the end it all came down to brute force. I had to work harder or everything would fall apart. When the semester ended, I was glad I had continued the class – I had progressed tremendously.

I think failures make us reflect more thoughtfully. You begin asking yourself whether you could have done something differently, whether your choices were right, whether your efforts were enough etc. Changing yourself is hard, but mistakes lets you question yourself, and forces you to create space for change.