Occasionally there are days that make you question your sanity, your raison d'etre, your significance. This past week was full of them.
Since January 2012 I've taken ten classes. Up until now my record has been immaculate.
Eight classes, eight A's. Batting a 4.0. Then I make the fatal mistake of taking on too much. Two five-week summer classes, an internship, and working (I had already dropped my gigs for the summer so I could focus on school work). I soon realized that even that was too much. Postponed the internship. My head was swimming and nothing was making sense. I got sick. Had to finish the classes to graduate on time. Everything is getting turned in on time (more or less).
Long story short--in the end a herculean effort just wasn't enough. 87 on my Bibliography of the Humanities class (which I'll write about some other time). I needed 89.9 for an A.
Final score as of today: Nine A's, one B. If I'd done that as an undergrad, I'd still be celebrating.
In a sense I should be proud of my work thus far, but I really craved that 4.0. It's not like I flunked out, but still...sigh.
I have two good professors this fall--Clark for Bibliography of the Social Sciences and Kreuger for Instructional Techniques for Librarians, and then graduation! I think I'll bring Turkish Delight to the after-ceremony reception at Dr. Lillard's...
*Rev. Robert Wadsworth Lowry, 1868; text attributed to "Pauline T." in the New York Observer.