Uneasiness

Sometimes I wonder if I try hard enough in my classes. I used to be sure that I did, but now I wonder if I'm really doing my best. In high school, I knew I could get A's in all my classes if I put some effort into them. The only classes that I had to work my butt off in were my math classes. I took all the advanced math classes, including Calc AP. I do not say this in a bragging way at all--trust me. I just wonder if it was worth it. Wait, scratch that. It was definitely the right thing for me to do. I had the intelligence, I just had to work a little harder. And, I should work hard. I know this post is a little all over the place, but it is only because I truly do not know what I think about it all.

I got my one and only panic attack in Algebra II in ninth grade. I blanked out on one of Mr. Boone's quizzes. It was all word problems and i had absolutely no idea how to figure any of them out. I could feel my body start to react. I really don't know how to describe it, except to say it was the weirdest and most disconcerting feeling--not pleasant to say the least. The funny thing is I did really well on that quiz. I took deep breaths and somehow managed to calm myself down. I dimmed the neon sign in my head that was flashing FAIL FAIL FAIL and I made my way up to Mr. Boone's desk to ask a question of clarification. I sat back down and I figured out how to do each problem. Then, there was Mrs. Harper's Geometry Advanced. I had that class right after lunch. On day's when we had a test, I found it hard to eat. Trig the next year was easier--Mrs. Rizotski was so sweet and I must admit her tests were pretty easy. Senior year's Calc AP was pretty rough, but I didn't stress myself out too much for it. I think I just let senioritis settle in a little bit. I made it through high school math fine--A's and a few B+'s.

Now that I'm in college, I feel some relief. In most of my classes I have confidence that, as long a s I study, I can get an A. The reason why I am even reflecting on all of this junk is that last semester I didn't get all A's. I got all A's and one C+. I have never gotten anything lower than a B+ my whole life. Even through all the stress and worry of my tough high school math--not once did I come close to that. What makes it worse is that this was not a difficult math class. This dark spot on my GPA came from a core English Lit. I worked hard in that class, and I've always been complimented on my writing. I certainly do not think I am an excellent writer, but then again I do not think I deserved a C+. Rita Dibble told us that no one got A's in her class. Where is the motivation in that?? If you've had the ornate pleasure of meeting Ms Dibble, and you find her to be a lovely woman, I can understand that. She can appear very pleasant. I like to call it sugar coated meanness. I learned absolutely nothing in that class. When she handed back papers, there were no suggestions for improvement. It was whether she liked it or not. It was whether or not you shared the same opinion on the literature we were analyzing. What right does she have in giving me a C+? As you can tell, I still haven't gotten over this. I am mad as I write this post. I sent her two e-mails requesting my grade on our final paper--no response. The reason I did this is because even with her whack grading system, I did not have a C+ going into the final. I also wrote an optional paper and attended two extra credit events and wrote on those to help my grade. I am debating on sending her a third e-mail.

Then I have these other thoughts where I tell myself to let it go--that a grade is not worth this. I haven't let go yet because I'm still so upset over it, and then I'm upset for being upset over such a minuscule problem. I need to let it go. I know this, but I struggle with it. Why do I struggle with it?? Why when people are suffering with disease and grief and so many other sorrowful crosses to bear do I care about my English grade? I think it is because I feel that I did not deserve it. Her grading was so subjective--it is not like failing a test. When you get a 65 on a math test, you know what you did wrong. If you fail a test in any other class, you probably didn't study and you just need to take full responsibility for that. This is different. It just is. However, like I said before I need to let it go. A bad grade is so meaningless in the scheme of things. When I am on my deathbed someday, I think I can safely say that this will be far removed from my mind, but still... Oh, I don't know. Before I go, I need to say something. Rita Dibble is a bitch and I hate her for ruining my GPA and I hate that she has the power to get me upset months later about it. I hate that I'm writing about her in this blog--I hate that I'm acknowledging all this. But, it happened and I need to stop letting it bother me. I have so much to be grateful for. I have such a wonderful life and I'm ashamed that I even had to spend time writing about this. I think I thought it would be a relief to write it all out--that it would help me to forget it. I'm not really sure it did, but I think I'm moving in the right direction.