When I was in seventh grade, my parents paid a tutor(家庭教师) forty dollars a week for her coming to my house and helping me with math. It ended up raising my marks from fifty to fifty-five.

I had to admit it was mainly my fault. Maybe I should have concentrated my math from the beginning. But studying math was a tough thing. Sitting on a chair to work on confusing math problems for two hours was a slow and painful process. During the process, I would fidget(坐立不安) and have many trips to the refrigerator in an attempt to get off that chair for at least five minutes.

During math tests, my teachers would always stay by my desk. My teachers and friends would frequently ask the question after tests,” How’s your math this time?" So I became extremely afraid of math. While normal people of my age were scared of some insects and adventurous travels, I feared anything to do with numbers. The thought of a teacher picking on me in class made me feel scared. The red marks on the test paper were also terrifying.

My fear of math got worse in ninth grade. Every report card I received from my new math teacher Ms Robbins had the comment to encourage me, "I'm glad to do what I can to help you.” But I couldn't tell her the real reason why I didn't ask for help-I didn’t want to be considered stupid. Every question I had was, in my opinion at the time, something that the whole class had understood but I. So instead, I ended up not caring about anything related to math, without working hard on math at all. And I concluded everything would work out in the end

Eventually, my classmates and I took the final test that would lead to our graduation from middle school and stepping into high school. Days after the exam-- on a rainy summer morning, Ms. Robbins called me.

With worry and uncertainty, I entered her office.

After I took the courage to tell my parents the bad news, they were silent.

As the chart shows, people encounter various difficulties when learning a new language. As for me,…