Now, I’m about halfway through my first semester of university. My grades are (shockingly to me) very high. I’m at the precipice of falling off from an A to a B in Spanish class, but I’m holding extremely solid A’s in both my Biology classes despite them being “very difficult” according to the university, as well as a solid A in my Cultural Diversity class (which is stupidly easy). 

In fact, when my first biology exam was graded, the professor announced, “The mean of this class was a 77%, which is the highest mean out of all of the biology classes I’m currently teaching. And congrats to the student who got a 96%. That’s the highest score in the class.”

I looked down and my heart jumped to my throat when I saw “96%” written in red on the top corner of my exam. Before I could stuff my exam in my bag so no one else could see it, everyone who was seated around me were staring at me like I’d just won the lottery, and I couldn’t tell what I was feeling. All I felt was adrenaline coursing through my system as my inner voice screamed, “Get the fuck outta there!”

Why did I respond to that “96%” with so much trepidation rather than pride and confidence? I don’t really know. 

My guess is that I’m so used to being an academic failure that I can’t believe I’m not an academic failure anymore. I’m also terrified of holding higher and higher expectations for myself. I’m terrified of having any sort of confidence. I’m terrified of getting “over-confident” then getting humiliated. I’m terrified of having any sort of big, long-term goals, because… well… I grew up being told by everyone around me that I would never live through high school, no matter how hard I tried, because of the way my genetic code was written. 

In other words, I was born genetically fucked-up. Genetically inferior. Destined to die a horrible death in the hospital at a very young age. And yet… here I am. 

In fact, as I type this, I’m sitting in the student wellness center of CU Denver, looking west across the greenspace at the Tivoli building, people-watching. I finished my second biology exam about an hour ago, and there’s a small part of me that feels good about it. However, I’m still suppressing my slight urge to celebrate early (something, something, never count your chickens before they hatch).