(no subject)
I've been reflecting on how it's been nearly 20 years since I graduated high school, and how it would have already been twenty years had I not made some decisions that I couldn't have possibly known would be bad ones until they played out.
Senior year in high school, doing terribly in just about everything but still somehow passing my classes. I had one final half year, and I also had two English classes lined up. I remembered how we were told that we were only supposed to have one of each subject per half year (going to just call them semesters because I don't remember if that's the right term while I was in high school), so I had to decide which English class I wanted to drop. I thought to myself that I wanted to stay in Debate because I wasn't very good at arguing and learning how to formulate arguments might prove useful.
That turned out to be a very bad decision. We were assigned groups for our first debate and both my opposition and my partner dropped the class. I was told to just prepare a speech, but I never did; this was entirely my fault because I was put out that my assignment had changed so drastically. This warranted my failing the first quarter.
My teacher had a parent/teacher/student conference, and she told me that if I could prove that I could put in the work then she would give me a passing grade. I quit my job that afternoon so I would have the time to work on classes. I stopped going to after school meetings (I wasn't eligible for them anyway, but it was a very loose organization). I put in a lot of time and effort so I could at least graduate with my class.
My final exam was a disaster. The teacher had us go into a handful of books so we could research and write an outline and some note cards for a potential debate. I couldn't read fast enough, and I couldn't formulate an argument quickly enough. We ran out of time, and I just needed a little more. I asked for an extension, but she said she wouldn't give it to me unless I had the paperwork in place that said I needed it (paperwork meaning a documented learning disability). I didn't have that, and so I turned in what I had.
Long story short, that teacher lied to me and she lied to my mother. I failed both quarters and the final exam. I don't know why I failed the second quarter, but I did. The average was a 52 percent.
And my God, was that school administration utterly callous about it. I remember turning in my graduate gown, and the guidance counselor acted like it was just an everyday thing that someone couldn't go to commencement. No sympathy, nothing.
I had to make up that last half credit of English in a remedial class during summer school. I still remember walking into the high school, the "applause" I was given when I picked up my diploma. I felt sick to my stomach that day.
I went to our local community college instead of going away to college, and that pretty much set my course in life. It's all been one big game of catch-up. Even now, going to graduate school, working my butt off and even getting A's in my classes, all I ever see is that 52 percent.
Ah, screw it. I'll leave this one public. Nobody reads this, anyway.
Senior year in high school, doing terribly in just about everything but still somehow passing my classes. I had one final half year, and I also had two English classes lined up. I remembered how we were told that we were only supposed to have one of each subject per half year (going to just call them semesters because I don't remember if that's the right term while I was in high school), so I had to decide which English class I wanted to drop. I thought to myself that I wanted to stay in Debate because I wasn't very good at arguing and learning how to formulate arguments might prove useful.
That turned out to be a very bad decision. We were assigned groups for our first debate and both my opposition and my partner dropped the class. I was told to just prepare a speech, but I never did; this was entirely my fault because I was put out that my assignment had changed so drastically. This warranted my failing the first quarter.
My teacher had a parent/teacher/student conference, and she told me that if I could prove that I could put in the work then she would give me a passing grade. I quit my job that afternoon so I would have the time to work on classes. I stopped going to after school meetings (I wasn't eligible for them anyway, but it was a very loose organization). I put in a lot of time and effort so I could at least graduate with my class.
My final exam was a disaster. The teacher had us go into a handful of books so we could research and write an outline and some note cards for a potential debate. I couldn't read fast enough, and I couldn't formulate an argument quickly enough. We ran out of time, and I just needed a little more. I asked for an extension, but she said she wouldn't give it to me unless I had the paperwork in place that said I needed it (paperwork meaning a documented learning disability). I didn't have that, and so I turned in what I had.
Long story short, that teacher lied to me and she lied to my mother. I failed both quarters and the final exam. I don't know why I failed the second quarter, but I did. The average was a 52 percent.
And my God, was that school administration utterly callous about it. I remember turning in my graduate gown, and the guidance counselor acted like it was just an everyday thing that someone couldn't go to commencement. No sympathy, nothing.
I had to make up that last half credit of English in a remedial class during summer school. I still remember walking into the high school, the "applause" I was given when I picked up my diploma. I felt sick to my stomach that day.
I went to our local community college instead of going away to college, and that pretty much set my course in life. It's all been one big game of catch-up. Even now, going to graduate school, working my butt off and even getting A's in my classes, all I ever see is that 52 percent.
Ah, screw it. I'll leave this one public. Nobody reads this, anyway.