A DIARY OF FAILURES. This week, I share with you a page in my archives of failures. Failure is not an experience many people would pray to have or talk about. Indeed, no one wakes up and prays that his venture ends up in failure. Yet, our world has been designed to accommodate the swing of fortune, that oscillates its pendulum across the twain strata of terrestrial paradox. Several years ago as a teenager, just out from the secondary school, I walked the streets of Lagos with my shoulders raised at par with my ears. I was so proud of myself and so were my parents. Who would not, of a child who made the family proud by emerging with six distinctions in the West African Examination Council (WAEC) examinations; the best in the Ikorodu local government area of Lagos state that year; in the days when distinction was truly distinction! To me, that result was the key I needed to access a world of eldorado, the sphere of my long-held aspiration, a space in the medical school of a federal university. Everyone who knew me predicted that to me, the Joint Admissions Matriculations Board (JAMB) examinations would be a walk-over. For a brilliant chap with my kind of intelligence, a first attempt at the examinations would sure get me a coverted place in the ivory tower. So, a few months later, I sat for the JAMB examinations. Like others, I wrote and exited the examination hall with great expectations. The result was released a few weeks later. Did I pass the examination? Yes. Was I offered admission into the university to study medicine and surgery? No. Out of a total score of 400, I had scored 204. That was over 50%, which by every fair standard was a pass mark. So at least, I was not disgraced. I passed JAMB, but failed the examination. On the night of the day that I saw the result, I developed acute insomnia. Sleep and indeed appetite for food eluded me. How could I, with all of my celebrated intelligence fail to score enough points to qualify me for a space to study the course of my dream? At 12.30 am, I left my room and sat under the mango tree behind my room, lost in thought. The serenity of the cool breeze and the drizzles from the cloud ushered me into a cerebral realm of quests. That night, I enquired of myself two fundamental questions. Sincerely I asked; what was I supposed to do that I did not do? And what did I do that I was not supposed to do? I did study hard. Indeed I spent close to 20 hours per day, studying rigorously for that examination. So why did I yet fail. Why would I pass the WAEC examinations in flying colours only to fail the JAMB examination. Finally, at about 3.30am, I had a ray dropped into my mind, a response to the quest that had kept me awake all night. The reason why I had failed the JAMB examination was because I went into the examination hall with a purely ordinary levels knowledge! The WAEC examination where I performed excellently well had its syllabus based on ordinary levels, while the JAMB examination was more of advanced level than ordinary levels. Pronto, I returned to bed and slept like a new born baby. Now I knew why I failed. nothing taunts a man like failing and not been able to find the reason for his failure. The following morning, I went about collating advanced level books in my preparations for the next JAMB examination. Having acquired these books, I studied them diligently, giving no room for pleasure until the day of the examination. I bought amalgamated past questions and answers and would create strict examination conditions in my room. I still vividly recall how I would cry my heart out whenever I marked those scripts and scored below the required points. How that my mother of blessed memory, would console me and persuade me to eat. How that I would refuse to eat until I scored an acceptable point. And so, the date for the examination came and like other students, I went into the examination hall. I went, I saw and I conquered. Yes, I conquered because I scored 214 out of a total score of 400 points. Did I not pass? Yes, I did. But again, my score was not good enough to get me a space in the medical school. This time, I locked myself up in my room for two days away from the rest of the world, sobbing and searching. Where again did I go wrong? Only a few months earlier, I had woken up in the middle of the night, under the mango tree, aided by the ambience of nature and fashioned out a winning-proof formula; at least so I thought. I had seen why I failed in my first attempt and made adequate preparations thereafter, improving on the identified shortcomings. I thought victory was sure if one identifies the cause of failure. Has the rule changed? On the second day of my self incarceration, I went to the beach side in Ipakodo, a serene enclave in Ikorodu and exhaled my frustration into the large mass of waters therein. The sight of the ocean ad infinitum, the cacophony of the melody generated by the splash of water waves against the shore, the dexterity with which fishes jumped out of the sea and returned into the water mass all condensed to give me yet another ray of hope. I certainly had not done all there was to be done. Or had I? In my aided thoughts, I dissected. I failed the first attempt at JAMB because I went in with a purely O levels knowledge. The second attempt again was a failure in spite of my acquisition and indeed diligent study of A level books. In the depth of my rationalization, I came to the knowledge that I needed an external aid! I had studied the relevant books diligently all these while on my own, in the confines of my study, with little or no interaction with the outside world. That did work for me in my preparation for the WAEC examinations. But this JAMB examinations appeared like a different kettle of fish! Having discovered yet, what I ought to do that I did not do, I set out early enough as soon as JAMB forms were up for sales the following year. I registered in an extra-mural JAMB class in Yaba, several kilometers from Ikorodu, where I resided. That institution was one of the first to open for lectures that year, hence my patronage of their facility, when many others yet tarried. I remember how I would arrive class much earlier than those who lived around the vicinity. How I studied diligently and interacted with my tutors. I came to realize that indeed, there were things I needed to know, formulars I needed to under-study, shortcuts I needed to learn. I came to the realization that never could I have gathered that chunk of knowledge on my own, in the confines of my room! Finally came the examination. I wrote. I passed. I was admitted ! I scored 248 while the school of medicine, University of Benin fixed their cut-off at 245 that year. By the time i was offered admission, some of my classmates whom we finished secondary school together were already in third year in their various universities. Some of those who mocked my resilience eventually turned around to celebrate my emergence. But I was not blindly resilient. I did not hold God responsible for my failures, I did not hold the witches and wizards in my village responsible. I held myself responsible and consistently worked on myself until my dreams became a reality. The truth is, many successful people have a record of HIDDEN failures than they have of celebrated successes, for failures are the blocks with which the mansion of success is built. So, do not be afraid to try. Do not be afraid to fail. But look inward and make every failure a stepping stone to your dream land. For failure is the block with which the mansion of success is built. Dr. Thomas-Wilson Ikubese Akure.
Posted on: Mon, 11 Aug 2014 08:29:26 +0000
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