It was clearly the right thing to do. (Well, unless you are my mother. She said, when I said that it was after the drop date, that I should be careful because my brother had trouble with so many D’s and F’s on his transcript. Under most circumstances I adore my mother, but in this particular one I felt like throwing tomatoes at her. First, if I have to take an F in this class, it will be my first one EVER. I got one C on my report card in my entire school career and I’m not ashamed because it was in calculus, which, seriously, I doubt I should have even taken except for the silly achiever mindset. Second, my lifetime G.P.A. can handle it; they’re hardly going to come repossess my Phi Beta Kappa key or my diploma noting that I graduated with honors. Third, comparisons between me and my brother as students are utterly ridiculous. I did not exactly feel supported.)
However, it was hard. I don’t quit things. When something is not working for me, I assume that it is my fault. I work harder. I try to find a way around the obstacles.
I’m trying not to feel like the obstacles won this round.
Obviously, the class was not working for me. I’ve ranted about the stupid homework. I’ve complained about the instructor’s reluctance to work with us. I sucked it up and kept working.
What did it, what sent me over the edge, was a comment on my storyboard assignment, the one when I turned in the goofy story. The instructor commented that I’d get more out of the class if I’d take it more seriously.
Excuse me for a moment: “@#$%#$#@$@#$@!!!!!!!”
Leaving aside his use of the poetic fallacy (I wrote a goofy story, so I am clearly goofing off in class? NOT!), I have to say the man is just not living in the same reality that I am. Up until that assignment, I had a PERFECT grade in his class. He marked me down two points for, in his opinion, not following his directions. I think I nailed the directions, thank you very much. Even so, I am willing to bet I had the top grade in the class to that point. How exactly would things be different if I were taking the class more seriously?
I cried when he was snide in his emails to me while I was working on the last assignment I turned in. I worked far past what I needed to do to meet the requirements of the assignment. I was willing to assume that I was going to somehow get something out of this class until that point. Question my dedication? Die!
Yesterday I did not go to class. I did not do the horrendous vocabulary assignment over the weekend. I emailed admissions to find out what I have to do to end this thing officially.
I think I deserve a gold star on my chart. I learned something after all: I can quit and the world won’t end.