Two Seeds in Different Soil

A gardener planted two tomato seeds on the same day.

She gave them both water. Both got sunlight. Both got care.

One seed sprouted in five days.

The other seed took twelve days.

The gardener panicked. "The second seed is broken. Something's wrong."

But her neighbor laughed. "Different soil. Different roots. Different timing."

Both seeds became healthy tomato plants.

One just needed more time.

The Student Who Quit

I watched a student quit last month.

She'd been practicing for three weeks. She was making progress and getting better.

Then she met another student in the hallway.

"How long have you been studying?"

"Two weeks," the other student said.

"Oh. I've been studying three weeks and you're already better than me."

She stopped coming to class.

Not because she wasn't improving.

Because someone else improved faster.

The Comparison Thief

Comparison steals two things.

First, it steals your joy.

You catch a yes/no question for the first time. That's exciting.

Then you think, "But Sarah can catch all of them already."

The joy disappears.

Second, it steals your momentum.

You practice every day for a week. That's progress.

Then you think, "But Tom learned this in three days."

If you think like this, you might stop practicing.

Your momentum dies.

Different Soil, Different Roots

I've been teaching since 1998.

Every student has different soil.

One student hears English rhythm differently than another student.

A student who studied music hears patterns faster.

A student who watches movies has different listening experience than someone who doesn't.

What You Can't See

When you compare yourself to another student, you see their results.

You don't see their roots.

Maybe they studied English as a child.

Maybe they live with English speakers.

Maybe they've been practicing secretly for months.

Maybe their native language is closer to English.

You're comparing your chapter three to their chapter ten.

That's not fair to you.

The Only Comparison That Matters

Here's what I tell my students.

Compare yourself to yourself one week ago.

Could you hear that question chunk last Monday? No.

Can you hear it today? Yes.

That's progress.

Could you shadow that sentence smoothly last week? No.

Can you do it today? Yes.

That's growth.

You're not competing with other students.

You're building your own procedural memory.

Your own rhythm recognition.

Your own listening skill.

The Practice Truth

Two students start together.

One catches yes/no questions in one week.

The other takes three weeks.

At the end of one year, does it matter?

Both can hear questions. Both improved. Both succeeded.

The timing difference disappeared.

What matters is who kept practicing.

Your Only Job

Your job isn't to learn faster than other students.

Your job is to practice today.

Do two minutes of shadowing.

Did you practice today? Yes.

Are you better than yesterday? Yes.

That's success.

Forget about the student who learned it faster.

They are different. Focus on your self.

The Real Secret

Grammar is procedural memory, not descriptive memory.

You build it through your own practice. Your own repetition. Your own time.

Not someone else's timeline.

Comparing yourself to others doesn't make you learn faster.

But it might make you quit sooner.

But comparing yourself to yesterday? That creates momentum.

"I'm better than I was last week."

That's the only comparison that matters.

That's what keeps you practicing.

That's what builds fluency.