During my master’s at Imperial College London, I learned a valuable lesson: what it means to fail and how to be resilient in the face of catastrophic failure.
In this article, I share some of the processes and lessons I learned during this time that continue to shape the way I work and do business today.
The Day Everything Went Wrong
I started my degree at Imperial studying for a Master’s in Pure Mathematics. My background was in Physics, which meant that I was behind most of my peers in the more theoretical math modules. This meant that I should have been doing two or three times the work of my already maths-obsessed peers.
Yet, I joined Imperial while serving as Managing Director of NEA TECH Studios, which demanded almost full-time attention. I was able to fund my studies thanks to my technology business. Moreover, that year I had also begun the process of designing and fundraising for the Imperial Chaplaincy Garden, which absorbed a large part of my time.
Nevertheless, during exam season, I turned on my out-of-office and concentrated on preparing for the exams. Revision for the exams, and the exams themselves, was a very stressful and tiring period. But after a month and a half, I was happy to have performed to the best of my abilities and to move on to working on my thesis.
It was 4 July 2024, the day of the British general election, when grades were released. Out of the eight modules I sat, I failed four of them, with grades too low to even be considered for a condoned pass, i.e. below 30%.
When I read the results on my computer screen, I thought it was a mistake. Surely it was a glitch. It must have been an error. Eventually, however, I was forced to accept that somehow these were my results.
At that moment, I broke down.
This was not just a failure. It was an unprecedented and unpardonable failure. It meant that my self-funded master’s was in jeopardy, and my tremendous efforts in revising for the exams had proved not to be enough.
Speaking with the course convenor, I was told that I had three options:
- Resit all four exams in August, compromising work on my thesis.
- Resit two exams in August and two in May the following year, with a capped grade of 50%.
- Quit and exit with a postgraduate diploma.
My first reaction after that conversation was to rush home and surround myself with my partner and friends. They suggested that I go camping that very weekend. There was no point in staying in town anyway and crying over it.
And so I did.
This break turned out to be essential. It took me out of the problem and gave me a chance to step back, reflect, and create an action plan.
During this reflection, I had a powerful realization: my grades were bimodally distributed.
When plotted, I had two average grades: 35% and 80%.
This raised the first red flag. Surely, if I was bad at maths, all my grades would be low. And, perhaps as the biggest proof of my mathematical abilities, I understood that there was an underlying pattern causing this behaviour.
The modules in which I achieved high grades were all related to applied mathematics and dynamical systems, while my failures had been in purely theoretical modules.
Researching these modules, I realised that my background in physics meant that I did not have the prerequisites or prior knowledge for them. In fact, I did not even meet the prerequisites for any of the pure maths modules available to me during my master’s.
So how, then, did I end up being accepted in the first place?
I also learned that the course guidelines suggested that anyone working more than 17 hours a week should study part-time.
I was working 40 hours a week.
It was on the train back to London that I realised I would never have been accepted onto this master’s in the first place had all of this been considered, and that the university should have advised me to reconsider.
I decided that I did not want to take any of the three proposed options.
I knew that, given a fair chance and the time to study something I was qualified for, I would achieve a distinction.
Therefore, my plan was to request a transfer to a master’s in applied mathematics and sit four new applied modules the next term as part of a part-time master’s.
At first, the department opposed the idea, as there was no precedent for a change at this stage. Through persistence and negotiation, however, I was finally able to get my course transfer approved.
The following year, I sat four new applied modules. And in June 2026, I was awarded a master’s in applied mathematics with distinction.
Learning from Failure
I have decided to compile some of the core lessons learned from this formative experience.
Lesson One: If You Fail, Fail Hard
Somewhat paradoxically, one of the things I am most grateful for from this experience was the severity of the failure.
Had it not been so severe, had I failed one or two exams instead of four, or obtained two condoned passes instead, I might not have considered taking an alternative route, and the distinction would have always remained out of reach.
Partial or redeemable failure, in this case, would have meant accepting a mediocre result. Therefore, the harsh outcome meant that there was no situation to salvage, just a clean slate to work with.
Lesson Two: Step Back Before You React
Often, in these types of emotional situations, we can become completely overwhelmed, leading us to rush as we enter “survival mode”.
Instead, it is essential to stop, step back, and take a holistic look at the situation.
Nature escapes are great for these kinds of crisis-management moments. Cities have a threshold of confidence. If you are above the line, a city can bring you up with it. But if you are under water, everything around you appears to be dragging you down.
Lesson Three: Pay Attention to What Comes Naturally
This was a core piece of advice given to me by my mentor, Judith Stampler.
Through this lens, I realised that going to the lectures on pure maths felt like a chore. I had to drag myself to the lecture theatre. It was not a moment I looked forward to.
This brought up the question: why did I choose to study pure maths?
Was it an arbitrary choice?
Was it a purpose-driven decision?
Sometimes failure can be the perfect chance to reconsider whether we’re going down the right path and challenge our own assumptions.
Lesson Four: Never Take ‘No’ for an Answer
At the time all of this happened, I was reading Never Split the Difference, a book on negotiation. This situation was a wonderful opportunity to apply the theoretical tools the book was teaching me.
When the course team first said it could not be done, instead of accepting the no, I asked: How can we overcome this challenge together?
By asking this question, I was able to flip the negotiation from the department versus me to the department and me versus the situation.
Another technique I used was to appeal to the human behind the role. While I was negotiating with the head of pure mathematics, I reminded myself that they were a person with a name and values. Talking to that person on that basis was much more productive than the predictable, rulebook-based decision that I would have obtained from someone acting purely through a formal role.
Lesson Five: Ride the Next Wave
My thesis supervisor told me: “Failing these exams might be the best thing that can happen to you.” When he said this, I was quite enraged. But it turned out to be true.
I had never failed before. Success had taken me on a long and high ride at the top of a never-ending wave. Now that wave had crashed and taken me for a couple of spins in the sand.
Falling from the wave doesn’t matter. What happens next does.
Do you concede and walk back to shore, or do you collect yourself, swim back into the open waters and ready yourself to catch the next big wave to ride?
Final Thoughts
In retrospect, the failure was, in many ways, the best thing that could have ever happened to me.
Two months later, we were told that the first round of funding for the garden had been approved: £49,000, and a new role had opened up for me.
Changing to part-time meant I could still be involved in this project as a student, and could take the lead. This led to one of the best years of my life and to winning three awards.
We all fall at some point. But when life throws you a curveball like this, it is essential to be ready with the right tools to deal with what lies ahead.
Emilio Garcia Padron is an MSc Applied Mathematics student at Imperial College London, specializing in Computational Dynamical Systems. He is a full-stack software developer and founder of NEA Studios. He is also a founder of RE:GEN @ Imperial, a project aiming to protect and expand Green Spaces on Imperial grounds that raised over £39,000 in funding.
Image: DALL-E
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