The school thing

In first year, my GPA dropped about 5%. I partially blame the guy in residence who laughed at me when he found me reading my psychology text book in the first week of classes. I don’t know why, but I believed him when he told me I wouldn’t have to do any work for the first week.

I also blame DC++. Which is more like blaming myself than anything else.

Anyway, that first semester ruined my chances at getting on the deans list easily. I fought a 75% average for 3.5 years, finally managing to break a few goals and get pretty darn close to that level of achievement.

But even in first year, I didn’t get so discouraged. So far this year, I’ve had my worst mark of my university career and two mediocre marks of the kind I haven’t seen since my very first semester.

Granted, I breathed a sigh of relief at the 71% I got on my music theory dictation quiz. Dictation means ear tests. I always sucked at ear. And this course is something I’m doing purely for myself. I promised myself when I signed up and didn’t drop the class that I would be OK with the marks I got. Even the mediocre ones.

But getting a mediocre mark in a course that was supposed to be my bird course is a bit of a different story. Especially when said assignment is a 2nd year level film analysis assignment. Analysis is what I do! Granted, not often on film. And never for a prof who is so arrogant, I can hardly bear to sit through class. (I have never heard a prof shamelessly promote himself so much. Nor look down on his students in disgusted glee so much.)

Good thing there’s five of these assignments. If I haven’t learned to figure out what a prof wants and give it to him/her by now, I don’t know what I’ve learned. I kind of wish I had learned more than that. I haven’t even read all the books an English major is supposed to have read. I didn’t go to school looking for an MRS degree. (I’m also not leaving school with one, despite getting married. Read: Married, happily, life-changingly, yes. Mrs. no. kthanx.) If you haven’t picked up on it by now, I’m starting to wonder if that’s all my English degree will be worth.

(Of course, if you know me at all, you know I don’t give up. I will finish this thing, I won’t, ultimately, regret my choice, and I will find something to do other than being a housewife. I would make a terrible housewife. My house proves it.)


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