My favourite part of being in school is the day I get assignments graded and handed back. Even if I don’t get the grade I was expecting, I am always relieved to know that I got a grade.
It’s the same reason I thrive on comments with this blog—because feedback is so satisfying. Even if it’s negative, at least it proves someone read what I wrote.
I’m pretty sure that’s been my problem these past few weeks, both with school and my blog: I wasn’t getting any feedback. I’d wake up and go to school and read read read and write and study and take exams and submit papers…but up to today, I had not received even one grade back for any of my assignments. Likewise, with my blog, I was putting so much effort into writing daily posts, but not receiving the quantity of feedback I expected [though you’ll never catch me saying that the quality is poor—I value my commenters!], and apparently, such lack of feedback is detrimental to my psychological health.
I guess that means I have a feedback complex. My character is weak that way. I should really work on that.
At any rate, today has been a good day, because I got over myself and re-opened comments on the ol’ blog, and ALSO, I got a paper and a midterm back. Graded.
The midterm grade was an A-, which was not great, but also not bad, considering I completed it in one hectic morning—and anyway, it was just for extra credit.
But the essay—the ESSAY, my friends! I got a really good grade on it.
I’m not going to brag, because everybody knows how rude that is (although I’ve been accused of starting this blog for the sole intent of bragging in the first place, {but I secretly suspect that comment came from my lifelong rival Becca Flunt, who may or may not be reading this but if you are, Becca, I WANT MY MONEY BACK!}), so instead I’ll give you a hint: My grade rhymes with SLEIGH—SLEIGH FLUSS, if we’re being specific. And we always are. Specific, that is…
Except for when we’re vague…
Anyway, the joy of my Awesome, Astounding, Astronomically Amazing grade (ahem) was further compounded by the professor swearing that she marks her papers brutally, and that nobody should worry when they saw their grade, because they could make up lost points with extra credit. (Also, I may or may not have seen a few fellow students rush out with flushed cheeks and tears streaming down their faces {which I do not make light of because that was me just last semester, and could very well be me again in a couple of days.})
So yeah. Sleigh fluss.
Just last week, if you had asked me whether or not I was happy to be in school, I would have asked you an equally stupid question like, “Were the Jews happy to go to the ghettos?” (although that might have come off as callous and I could have gotten in a bit of trouble saying that, but of course I don’t mean to make the Holocaust a joking matter—it’s just how I feel about school). Today, though, if you ask me whether or not I’m happy to be in school, I’ll still look at you like you’re an idiot and say, “Not a chance,” but I might get a little twinkle in my eye and smile, adding, “No, I’m not happy to be in school; but at least I’m not wasting the money my parents and Poor Kyle have invested in it. Sleigh fluss.”
And who knows—maybe someday they’ll actually see a return on their financial backing.
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