The Price of Giving Up
A recount of the moment that picked me up when I was at my lowest
As I walked back from exercising opposite my place, I slumped. A wave of negativity surged through me. Over the past few days, I felt defeated. We had just launched our prototype game into the public, and the turn up was much lower than what I hoped for. To be fair, we planned our launch one day before we opened it up. The turn up was actually pretty good considering how last minute it was. But the hopeful part of me wanted this to be our big break.
The next few days, I really questioned why I was doing this to myself. The cost of choosing to take on a startup as compared to doing a full-time job was really high. I had missed out on 24 months of potential salary, and maybe a bonus. There could have been almost 100 grand more in my bank account. I could treat myself more to gadgets (which I love) and eat awesome food that I saw my peers eat on Instagram without feeling really worried about my expenditure. I started to wonder if the cost of continuing is even worth it.
But suddenly, something caught my attention from the corner of my eye. A tuition centre along the way back was open. I had never seen them open before. Their lights were always off; classrooms were always empty. This was the first time I saw a class running.
I saw 2 girls from the window, one wearing white another wearing brown, sitting at the table paying attention to the teacher at the whiteboard. I wondered why there were even classes now, considering it’s the school holidays. But recalled that I was quite normal for kids to continue their lessons despite the end of school.
The girl in brown had her shoulder slumped. She did not look like she wanted to be there. The other girl in white was shaking her legs. Perhaps that could help her pay attention better. I felt sad for them to be having lessons on a Saturday during the holidays. And seeing this made me realise how confined such environments were. They don’t promote learning. Kids are struggling even to pay attention in the first place. I imagined myself being in their shoes and having to deal with the boredom that comes with an hour or hour half lesson. I could be misinterpreting the moment, but their body language stood out to me as such. It brought me back to the times where I felt really confined in the classroom, and I really wanted to change something about it. At that moment, I recalled why I started to do my startup in the first place. Kids don’t learn best in small confined rooms, stuck to their desk. Kids learn best when they are free to do what they want. When they can try, observe and improve. A wave of purpose surged through me.
I realised that if I chose to give up now, the price was even higher. Yes, I would lose more years of salary. But this also means giving up the chance of changing the way kids get to learn. 20 years down the road, if I saw kids still sitting slumped inside small classrooms trying their best even to stay awake, I’d feel furious at myself for throwing away that opportunity to make a difference.
Perhaps it was fate that let me experience that moment and rekindled the fire within, or perhaps it was me looking for things around me to justify my decisions. Nonetheless, it was the moment that picked me up when I was on the verge of giving up. And I am truly grateful for that.
