It probably wouldn’t have been funny anyway. It was a wedding. And I’m not Vince Vaughn or Owen Wilson. It would’ve sucked. I then would’ve just made up a lot of the stuff to make it sound better, and it might have been at most mildly amusing. Mildly.
So instead, I bring you ticked off Adaham.
On the scale of Angry Adaham, ticked off is a 3 out of 5. Adaham in his normal state is usually about a -2. I could’ve avoided negative numbers altogether and made the scale out of 10, or just 7, but fuck that. And fuck you for insulting my anger scale.
I think I just reached 3.4. Watch out world.
[Insert transition here], I don’t think I’ve ever argued a grade. I just finished my second year of college. So that’s about 14 years of school (about 3 of which might actually count for something!), and I can’t recall so much as questioning a grade I received on anything.
There were times when I didn’t get grades I felt I deserved, for better and worse, but just said fuck it and went on with my day. And I don’t even remember a time when I actually bothered to count up my score on an individual test to see if the professor calculated it wrong, and they did. It was just wasted time.
I had a good friend who was in a few math classes of mine over the years, and I always remember him arguing for points after he got back a test. After class, he would always go up to the teacher and state his case why he felt deserved an extra point, or sometimes when his game was on, two points. Most of the time, he did get an extra point, but I think it was more of the teacher not giving a shit about one point and just giving it to him so he’d go away.
I think I saw him do that with at least two teachers, and pretty much every test given by them for two years. And there were plenty of other fine students I grew up with who would do the same for pretty much everything. And if it wasn’t them, I’ve heard numerous stories of parents complaining for them.
Hey, whatever. I pride myself on being indifferent to pretty much everything. I like teachers to know my name, but not my face. I just wasn’t going to argue or question a grade. That would require two things I despise: 1) talking and 2) talking to an actual person.
That changed yesterday morning.
I was looking at my grades from my most recent semester online. Pretty much every class was ass expected, and then I got to my Science Fiction class. Under the grade column, it read “F.”
I looked at it for probably 15 seconds, but it felt like 30, so I’m going to say I starred for a full minute for dramatic effect.
I’ve never failed a class. Never. I’ve failed tests. Plenty of them, actually. But an entire class? Never.
I didn’t know how to react other than anger, since I’m positive I didn’t fail the class. I’m not one for math, but I think if you haven’t failed a test all semester and gone to all classes but one, it’s very difficult for that to end up resulting in failure.
Apparently I was wrong.
I immediately e-mailed my teacher. This was a woman who told us not to e-mail her during the year because she gets a lot of e-mails and probably won’t respond. This is also a woman who I had for two classes that both met on Tuesday and Thursday this past semester, and I’m 100 percent positive she has no idea who I am. In fact, I’m willing to bet in the combined 150 students from both classes, only one person knew who I was, and that’s because he was my former editor on the school paper.
So I typed out the e-mail in what I felt was a voice of concern, but not too strongly worded to make me sound like an ass, but not too pussily worded to make me sound like, well, yeah. I wanted to handle this without bitching and whining.
Within 45 minutes I get three e-mails back from her. The first one said she e-mailed me a few days back about this, and she’ll forward the message again. I received no such letter. The second said that was a different Adam from class and she’ll look into my grades. The third read she looked at my grades and the TA had me down for 11 absences this semester, and anything over 6 is an automatic F.
“Pity, for you had an 80 average,” the last line of e-mail read.
Eleven absences is an absurd amount. I e-mailed her back, a bit pissed off because that was wildly wrong, the last line of the e-mail she definitely wrote while dressed up like Cruella de Vil complete with cigarette and long cigarette holder and also because I was listening to Public Enemy. I thanked her for responding so quickly and trying to help me clear this up. Then I said I’m sorry, but I have to disagree with those absences. “There is absolutely no way I missed 11 classes. No way.”
I haven’t heard back.
My next argument is that I had her for two classes on the same day, and I received my grade for the other, so why would I be so stupid to think that I could go to one of her classes and not the other? And I don’t know why I think this will help, but I also know the exact date of the only time I missed both of her classes. For some reason, I feel good knowing that date.
My mom feels if they go back and look at my class records they’ll see I’m not one to skip classes. I don’t know if they actually keep those records in college. But either way, this is the angriest I’ve been since, well I don’t actually remember when. I’m not usually angry unless I’m somewhat joking around.
Either way, reader(s), I know you’re there for me and I fully intend to keep you updated on this sure to be ongoing saga. Well no I won’t, I doubt you care much at all. Hopefully tomorrow I’ll get an e-mail clearing this all up, but if not, ROOOAAAARRRR!
I’m fully prepared to fight the establishment here people. And it’s quite an establishment. Some would say they were the Big East Champions in this most recent college basketball season and are located in western
Either way, I feel like I’m about to rage against the machine.
“You'll never silence the voice of the voiceless”
Well, yeah they could, very easily, but still.
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