...except for me and my monkey! "Everything we see hides another thing. We always want to see what is hidden by what we see." -Rene Magritte

Monday, November 08, 2004

In which I get what was coming to me

School's been kicking my ass.

Last week I had something due for every class: on Wednesday, a Spanish paper about an aspect of Tosca, by Isabel Allende; on Thursday, a paper for my Religion in Modern America class about the modernist vs. fundamentalist controversy and a response paper about The Cosmic Race by José Vasconcelos for Modern Mexico; and on Friday, an International Affairs unit exam and a prospectus for my final Old Testament paper. All of this was in addition to the election: I was canvassing all day Sunday then had a College Democrats meeting and more canvassing on Monday. Tuesday I spent all evening watching the election; by the time we got back to the dorm it was only midnight or so, but I was in no state to get any meaningful work done.

Why do I create these situations for myself? I seem to remember an analogy from a conversation over the summer about seeing how far I can lean over a cliff without falling.

I think I leaned a little too far this time. I dropped the ball on the Spanish essay. Prof. Flori handed it back today and I actually did pretty well and can revise it for a better grade, but it felt pretty crappy and totally last-minute to me. But aside from that, by Friday afternoon, when I slid my Old Testament prospectus under Kugler's office door and high-tailed it the hell out of there, I felt pretty good. I was ready to chalk up the week's score the way Clay did for his finals last semester: Jessica 4, Lewis & Clark 1.

Except, not quite. Today after IA, Cortell asked if he could talk with me.

"How did you feel about Friday's exam?" he asked as we walked from Miller to his office in the Albany Quadrangle.

"Oh, I thought I did pretty well," I said.



"Did I do poorly?" I asked.


It turns out that I got about a B minus, which is not horrible but definitely not great. It's not an acceptable standard of work if I'm going to, you know, keep my scholarship and prevent all hell from breaking loose. Cortell was concerned that since it was such a drop from my midterm grade, something may have been wrong. He's a great professor, and the only thing that was wrong was that I didn't study as much as I should have. I kind of felt like crying just a little bit.

In conclusion: college is hard. I need to study more, work more swiftly, and procrastinate less.

In happier news, today in Old Testament Kugler called Naomi, Ruth's mother-in-law in the Book of Ruth, a "poophead." I love that man.