“There is only one Stephen Hawking, one Albert Einstein and one Isaac Newton. You'll never be president and you'll never go to the moon, because you're average,” my mother stated as my siblings and I sat around the kitchen table, “but at least you're not below average.” She held the my report card and in the other my brothers because it would be catastrophic if they touched each other. Say no to plagiarism. Get a custom essay on "Why violent video games should not be banned" Get an original essay "I can do whatever I want I stated matter-of-factly, turning to start a one-sided staring contest with her. How dare she think I could be anywhere near average? “I hope you'll prove me wrong,” she replied, getting up from the table. I was furious and very motivated. I I made the grade in school, but without any effort my brothers always did better. I was always under the radar. I didn't cause any problems. I came to class and did my homework. I was invisible and forgotten because I didn't act nor did I require attention, so my teacher often overlooked my presence. The school was a jungle of prepubescent children who lacked the maturity I had developed in fourth grade. Walking through the corridors packed like sardines, I saw many children trying to find themselves. Boys threatening to fight each other and children making dinosaur noises crowded the already narrow hallways while girls wore so much makeup it looked like it could only be removed with a potato peeler. I wanted no part of it. I stood out among my friends like a Barbie doll at a heavy metal concert. They looked like Halloween decorations and took enough drugs to intoxicate a stadium full of people. I have never been able to fit in with them, because I have a drive to succeed that they will never discover. I needed to abandon these monsters if I wanted to be above average. I decided to make a fresh start for myself as a sophomore. I walked the halls lost and confused, as most newcomers would, and eventually found my classes. There was a difference in my view of school. Before the days seemed to drag on and felt like years. Now, I felt like I could find my way through that huge school and be successful. I came to class, sat in the front row, and made friends who have since proven to be worth my time. Getting to know my teachers on a more personal level allowed me to understand how to play the game most people call education. I took harder classes to outdo others and prove that I can do better. I did well, but one lesson annoyed the hell out of me. Every day I walked out that door stunned by an ever-increasing headache that never seemed to ease. Part of the problem was that I was convinced that although the woman knew chemistry well enough to teach us, she couldn't pronounce simple words. “Go to the back of the room and get your plastic bags,” Mrs. Lord told us at least twice a week. The other kids laughed hysterically every time he said "baeg" and I admit it was funny, but boy, did it irritate me. I thought teachers had to know the correct English to teach. Who would have ever imagined that after that course I would choose to specialize in Biochemistry. School went by faster than expected, and at the end of each term I found myself in a panic making rounds to all my teachers to check grades. One teacher I grew fond of definitely had her share of life adventures that manifested in the way she spoke and interacted with us..