31 Days, 31 Memories - Day 26
26. College
There was a girl, C., on staff with me for a journal of undergraduate essays. We didn’t know each other very well, were introduced one October at a staff meeting and saw each other half a dozen times at most that year. I think she was an English major or minor, or at least had taken a few English classes. We got along well enough; she was nice, if a little distant sometimes, but that wasn’t remarkable since the magazine was run by a department notorious for staffing pretentious faculty and recruiting pretentious students.
My friend Rick came to one meeting but decided not to continue. He knew C. from a science class they had together. That summer, knowing that I knew her because of the journal work, Rick told me he’d heard her bitching about the two of us: that we had screwed up test curves in our respective classes and thereby forced her to get a lower grade. This was wrong on a number of levels, not least of which was that I don’t think our English teacher limited the number of A’s he gave on essays. But I laughed when Rick told me this, because apparently C. had hated me in silence for quite some time, and I’d had no idea.
There was a girl, C., on staff with me for a journal of undergraduate essays. We didn’t know each other very well, were introduced one October at a staff meeting and saw each other half a dozen times at most that year. I think she was an English major or minor, or at least had taken a few English classes. We got along well enough; she was nice, if a little distant sometimes, but that wasn’t remarkable since the magazine was run by a department notorious for staffing pretentious faculty and recruiting pretentious students.
My friend Rick came to one meeting but decided not to continue. He knew C. from a science class they had together. That summer, knowing that I knew her because of the journal work, Rick told me he’d heard her bitching about the two of us: that we had screwed up test curves in our respective classes and thereby forced her to get a lower grade. This was wrong on a number of levels, not least of which was that I don’t think our English teacher limited the number of A’s he gave on essays. But I laughed when Rick told me this, because apparently C. had hated me in silence for quite some time, and I’d had no idea.