I was not a straight A student. But I wanted to be—well, sort of. To my parent’s dismay, my 2.90 high school GPA proved I didn’t actually want to be bad enough to be … but hey, I wasn’t much really the studious type. I wasn’t a stoner either, but although I never skipped class I also rarely brought a text book home with me. Fortunately though, I was an excellent test taker and my 1280 (or something like that) SAT score landed me an acceptance letter to the university I wanted to attend.
In college, I didn’t do much better. I maintained my 2.90 GPA (yay! me) and I even managed a 4.0 one semester. Of course I only took one class graded and then the remaining credits I took pass no-pass—but still, on the report card and to the untrained meticulous eye, it was a 4.0 nonetheless.
But, despite my lack of studious behavior, I did revel in the rare moments when a shiny red A would be scribbled over the top of my papers … and I loathed the sinking feeling that took over when there was an F written large enough for the student next to me to see. Those are feelings that never go away, and in my profession, they can resurface more often than not.
But, that’s the game I have chosen to play. I mean hey, if you put yourself out there for the public eye you become susceptible to their candor and their sometimes outspoken ramblings, or grades as it were … and while ninety five percent of my writing gets favorable reviews (or none at all, which when you write for newspapers can be a good thing) I still find I want to vomit every time I get a bad review or scathing comment insisting that I know absolutely nothing. And sometimes I wonder if I’d been a better student, if I would also be better able to overlook the crappy comments and focus only on the productive ones—not necessarily always positive, but at least ones with some merit to their criticism.
But then again, if I’d have attended those 8 a.m. classes in college, studied more and had better grades, although I’d have those bragging rights, I wouldn’t have gotten quite as much sleep—and, well, I get cranky when I don’t sleep. Besides, when it comes right down to it, isn’t sleep more important than a 4.0? Today’s post inspired by the Daily Prompt: Test.