Math and I have had a peculiar relationship over the years. When I was young, back in Colombia, math came naturally to me. I was the kid excelling in the subject. Even after moving to the United States, my math skills helped me stand out at a time when I struggled with the language barrier. But then, my family moved to Canada, and everything shifted—especially in school.

A Tough Start in Canada

The move to Canada wasn’t just a cultural shock; it was a confidence-shattering experience. My Grade 2 teacher took an instant dislike to me. On my very first day, I was yelled at for spelling mistakes—a particularly painful blow since I was still learning English. I’d often go home in tears, feeling utterly defeated.

Things got so bad that my parents had to escalate the situation to the superintendent. Other parents had similar complaints about the teacher, and while the situation eventually improved, the damage to my confidence had already been done. My grades in Canada reflected this downturn. Where I once excelled in math, now even numbers seemed foreign to me.

The Plateau in High School

By the time I reached high school, my grades weren’t impressive. I wasn’t failing, but I was far from excelling. My study habits, or lack thereof, didn’t help—I rarely studied more than a few hours before a test. When I did manage to shine, like getting the highest mark in a mid-level math class, I attributed it to the class being easy rather than my own ability. I consistently saw myself as average, at best.

I barely got into university, landing in a Bachelor of Arts program in Economics rather than my preferred Bachelor of Commerce program. Ironically, my high school had prepared me better than I realized—I had taken calculus when many of my peers hadn’t. This gave me a surprising edge in university-level math, even if I still wasn’t trying as hard as I could.

The Turning Point

In my second year of university, I took a linear algebra class—not because I was passionate about it but because it was rumored to be easy. At first, it wasn’t. But for the first time, I buckled down, studied properly, and to my surprise, I did quite well. I earned a perfect score in that class, sharing the room with math and computer science students who had far more experience than me.

This sparked something. I began to realize that when I put in real effort, I wasn’t just “okay” at math—I was good at it. I continued to challenge myself with tougher courses like Calculus 1 and 2 from the math department. At first, they were disasters; I bombed my early exams. But instead of giving up, I threw myself into studying—hours upon hours of focused effort. When I aced a midterm I had studied relentlessly for, the feeling of accomplishment was unparalleled. I ended up taking between 10-15 classes from the math/stats department doing well in all of them.

Impostor Syndrome Creeps In

Despite these successes, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I didn’t belong. Impostor syndrome became a constant companion. Every time I succeeded, I found ways to downplay it. “That class was easy,” I’d think, or, “It was just luck.” Even when I got into UBC’s Master of Economics program—something that felt unattainable just a year prior—I couldn’t fully celebrate, id tell my self it was not that big of an achievement.

Looking Back

Reflecting on these experiences now, I see how much impostor syndrome shaped my academic journey. In high school, I believed I was less capable than my peers when in reality i was just far lazier. In university, I doubted my success, thinking it was just a matter of circumstance that soon ill start to get my average high school grades. Even now, in my career, I occasionally feel like I don’t fully deserve my achievements.

But here’s the thing: with time and effort, I’ve learned that success isn’t just about raw talent. It’s about persistence, resilience, and the willingness to keep showing up.

The Lesson

If I’ve learned anything from my journey, it’s this: you’re probably doing better than you think. The path to success is rarely a straight line, and everyone’s highlight reel can make you feel like you’re falling short. But behind the scenes, we’re all just figuring it out as we go. And that’s okay.

So, if you’ve ever felt like an impostor, know that you’re not alone.