Sunday, June 6, 2010


January 2010

I didn’t do well in school for most of my life. I wasn’t stupid, I just didn’t care much. My parents never put any emphasis on grades, so why bother? I took in what I felt important in high school, community college, and then at the big state U to stay out of academic probation to enrich my mind.  I finally started getting good grades at the end of my higher learning stint because I actually found it interesting! Then came my masters. Here’s where my dad says “It makes a big difference when it’s your money.”

My first summer taking grad classes at PSU I got all A’s. It felt great! I became obsessed. I checked my grades online for minute updates on posting day. Then I would see all my AAAA’s in a row, and do the “YES” dance. Enter professional and personal journal keeping. Piece of cake, right? I did the work, I did the reading, I humored the class with my brilliant and witty observations. I dazzled with my lighthearted and at the same time awe-inspiring musings. Then came judgement day. A… A…. A…. AMINUS!!??  I practiced my speech to give the instructor on how she must have accidentally looked at the wrong line in her grade book. Or how I secretly had food poisoning or biopsy surgery during the quarter. My long departed grandma had died? She had a secret oppression against…. Educated middle income women? I had nothing. I had to face the fact that I had messed up and in so earned *shutter* an A- Shortly after, I gave birth to my son and left the academic world indefinitely. Several years later, I decided to finish those last few credits and complete my action research/ master’s thesis project. I worked with my previous journal keeping professor on a paper I wrote entitled: Personal interpretation of journal keeping.  SAME TEACHER. SAME TOPIC.  I got an A this time. So the next time my little man looks me square in the eye and tells me no, then rattles on the universe of reasons as to how I have served injustice, I will remember this. And fear for his future teachers.

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