The Magic of Love and Wisdom
From a young age, I was not considered promising by others. I was often seen as dull and slow to react.
My parents frequently sighed, thinking I had no redeeming qualities. To confirm his instincts, my father would often call over a neighborhood boy of the same age when I was in elementary school. The two of us would stand in front of him, and he would give us mental math problems like “What is 25 plus 68?” I could do the problems, but it took me a long time to calculate in my head, whereas the boy would often blurt out the correct answer instantly. The more questions the boy answered correctly, the prouder he became, and the sadder my father grew. In these comparisons, I was so ashamed that I couldn’t even lift my head.
Finally, my father concluded: “You are really stupid.”
Because of this slowness, I never spoke in math class, and the math teacher never had high expectations for me. My grades were usually around 80 points. Once, I worked very hard on a test and scored 100 points. I went to the podium to retrieve my paper, full of joy, only to have the math teacher scrutinize me and mutter, “I have no idea how you got this score.” Sensitive as I was, I understood she suspected me of cheating, and I burst into tears. After that, I never dared to perform so well in elementary school and gradually lost the ability to excel.
I became increasingly dull and slow, developing an inferiority complex. My parents were also burdened by my performance, unable to take pride in me.
In middle school, I met Mr. Huang, a teacher who carried himself with great dignity, though he was only in his thirties. He taught us math.
His lessons were very easy to understand. He could cover the material in half a class, using the remaining time to teach us study methods and other knowledge we were unfamiliar with, like memory techniques and the possibility of extraterrestrial life. We were captivated, and through his lessons, we realized how vast the world was and how much we didn’t know.
One day, he drew an iceberg on the blackboard and said, “One-tenth of an iceberg floats above water, while nine-tenths remain submerged. Human potential is similar; a large part of it goes unused. If awakened, it can unleash enormous energy and lead to great achievements.”
A spark of joy lit up in my heart.
A few days later, during a parent-teacher meeting, my mother returned with an uncontrollable smile and asked me, “Do you know what potential is? Mr. Huang said you have it.” Me? I have potential? My heart raced, and I felt a surge of excitement, sensing that success and excellence were within reach. I explained the iceberg theory to my mother, and her face beamed with pride.
My confidence was ignited, and studying became a joy. In just a few months, my math grades soared from being in the lower twenties of the class to consistently being in the top five. A smile often adorned my face.
Interestingly, my deskmate, a boy, was also joyful and consistently performed well during that time.
We reveled in our happiness and progress.
Eventually, I achieved the highest score in a math test in the entire class. In my moment of triumph, I couldn’t help but tell my deskmate, “I never knew I had potential until Mr. Huang told my mom. Look, I’ve proven my potential.” Surprised, he asked, “Oh, he told you that you had potential too? I thought he only saw it in me.” We stared at each other, then burst into laughter.
Mr. Huang had performed a magic trick on us. With love and wisdom, he conjured our confidence. His teaching magic transformed the life of a once self-conscious girl.
Thank you for reading! ” Sitestorys “
