“We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.”
Oh Mr. Wilde, you nailed me today.
P.S. Readers: I’m going to try to keep this from being a rant, but seriously, it just might have to be one.
I’ve taken exactly 91 hours of college level, kick your butt, courses. I’m currently enrolled in eighteen more hours. I’ve made an A in all but three. B number one was in Psychology, and my teacher was not fun. Not that it was completely her fault. I do vaguely remember sitting in the very back row and facebooking 90 percent of the time. The second was in Trigonometry, and considering that I’m an English major, Creative Writing minor, I figure that is a pretty decent grade. I think the fact that I know if I had studied a little bit harder I could have gotten an A in that class makes it a little easier to swallow, too. In all of my major and minor classes I’ve gotten one B, in Adolescent Literature, and guess what? I lived. I still know what I’m talking about when it comes to adolescent literature. I still felt competent in that class and I feel like I did walk away knowing some new things. I never wanted to sit in the back and hide my face in shame in that class.
French, however, is a completely different story. I took French 1 in the Summer 1 session, and I got an A. I worked my butt off for said A. It was my only class, so focusing on it wasn’t an issue. I memorized my vocabulary, I learned the concepts. I did what I knew I could and I learned the basics of French. This semester is a massively different story.
I study, but probably not enough. I listen in class, but mostly I’m just hoping she doesn’t call on me to answer her questions. Mostly I just want to cry in that class. Why?
I don’t know. I never know. Maybe because now, French is 1/6 of my classes and spreading my time is a little bit more difficult. Maybe because it is the first thing I encounter every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Maybe because it’s hard for me.
I don’t know why, but I’ve always had the hardest time in foreign language classes. Always. Even in high school Spanish I worked my butt off and only barely scraped that A. Maybe because I’ve never had this hard of a time learning something new.
Mostly, I think it’s that I never learned to accept a B as a good grade, and more importantly I’ve never allowed myself that luxury. I think mostly,
I need to get over myself.
Wow, right? Yeap, and I mean it and everything. Nobody is perfect and I need to stop trying to be. My GPA will live through a B, and if that is the best I can do then I need to learn to be proud of that B. If I really am doing everything I can to get the grade, which I really do feel is a true statement, then a B will not kill me. Can you hear the pep talk coming out in all of this?
I need to stop basing my “intelligence” off of what grade I get in classes. A grade is a grade. I need to top being so concerned with that letter and more concerned with what I take away from the class. Our society is too focused on the little things. I’ll always remember the grade I got in French 2, but it won’t be a big deal a year from now, just like I’m not really concerned with the Bs that I listed at the top.
So Mr. Wilde, thank you. You’re right. I do feel like I’m in the gutter today. I do really hate my French class (but I love my teacher which just goes to show that it really is the class that I don’t like), but in the end, it’s just a small dot on the horizon of my future.