#(​except he can apparently write me some exam questions next semester)

[strohller27]

.

[rushingheadlong]

And I Get Afraid - A Queen gen fic

Summary: Queen has come to a standstill as they try to get their debut album released, and John seems to be the only one left who isn’t optimistic about their chances for success. Now with his graduation quickly approaching, he finds himself struggling to decide between sticking by the band- and his friends- or leaving this sinking ship while he can still make something of his future.

Wordcount: ~4,500

Notes: Queen I was finished by November 1972 and was released in July 1973, and I got pretty emotional thinking about what that 8-month gap must have been like for the band. So this is the result of that.

I have no idea when John actually graduated, but spring of 1973 seems pretty plausible for me so that’s what I’ve gone with here. The fic itself is set in roughly May 1973.

(Title from The Night Comes Down - “And I get afraid of losing my way”. Also posted on AO3 here.)

There’s something strange, John decides, about a band rehearsing with no shows lined up. It’s been ages since their last gig, with no new ones yet on the horizon, but they meet every week without fail in the old practice room at Imperial College, as if they’re still just a student band and not nearly-signed to a label with an album already recorded.

Or maybe that’s the real oddity of their current situation. They finished recording their album months ago but it has yet to see the light of day. They’ve signed a preliminary deal with Trident but until they have a record company willing to release the album there’s little more that they can do except wait.

Queen is stagnating, though John knows better than to say as much aloud. They can’t do a proper tour without an album to promote, so they still work the same uni circuit with the same songs that they’ve performed countless times already. Brian and Roger have been playing Doing All Right for nearly five years now, and John wonders which will be retired first: the song or Queen herself.

The others have started writing new material and it all sounds good so far, but nothing can get recorded until their first album is released. And no one will release their album unless they have a sizeable following, but Queen can’t book larger venues without a record deal to prove their validity, and the whole damn process is so circular that John is beginning to see why so few bands actually seem to make it.

If the others are feeling as adrift in all this as John in, they don’t show it. Roger and Freddie are as dedicated as ever, scraping a living with their stall and saving money by sharing a flat, and Brian still has his thesis to occupy his spare time. The three of them are seemingly unchanged, unphased, unworried about anything, and John has to wonder how they do it when every day he finds himself more and more unsure about where this is all going.

A loud, discordant twang interrupts their playing - and John’s thoughts - and John doesn’t have to look over at Brian to know that he’s caught a string wrong on the edge of his sixpence and broken it.

“Shit. Sorry, sorry, just give me a moment…” Brian mutters, already unplugging his guitar and hurrying over to grab a new string.

Freddie waves off his apology, unbothered by the disruption. “No rush, darling, we’ll just take it from the top when you’re ready.”

“Actually, I have class soon. I’d better get going,” John says as he catches sight of the time. He’s been with Queen for two years and it still feels awkward having to duck out of practice like this, especially now that he’s the last one attending regular classes instead of whatever erratic schedule Brian has adopted with his thesis work.

“Perfect. I think if I had to play for one more minute my arms were going to fall off.” Roger grins at John as he stands from behind his kit, stretching out his arms and back with an exaggerated groan.

“John, do you have a second before you leave?” Freddie asks, ignoring Roger’s theatrics. “We need to discuss our schedules so we can start booking shows again.”

“Fucking finally!” Roger says loudly, his eyes shining bright with excitement of the prospect of performing live again. “Listen, I know a guy, he can get us something for next week-”

“Take it easy, Blondie,” Freddie says with a laugh. “Just because you have no prior obligations doesn’t mean our schedules are free.”

“Our schedules?” Roger echoes. “Don’t try to lump yourself with Brian and John, I know what your fucking calendar looks like, Fred!”

“I have exams starting in a few weeks,” John cuts in before Roger and Freddie can continue their friendly bickering. “If we can keep the shows local…”

“We don’t have to schedule anything at all until the semester is done.” Brian looks up from his guitar and asks, “You’re graduating soon, aren’t you?”

John nods, though his stomach rolls with anxiety at the reminder that the end of his university career is approaching at a frankly terrifying speed. “Yeah, in June.”

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Freddie scribble down a note on a scrap of paper. It’s the only chance the singer has of remembering anything, but John isn’t optimistic that he’ll manage to keep track of the paper at all.

“We’ll have to throw you a proper celebration next month then,” Freddie says, and John has no doubt that he fully intends to do just that. “What about after you graduate, though? Any plans for the rest of the summer?”

That’s the question that John has been trying to answer for most of the semester so far, but he’s still no closer to figuring out what his next steps should be. “Nothing yet, no,” John says as he busies himself with packing away his bass, rather than looking at the others.

“Perfect,” Freddie says. That is definitely not the adjective John would have used, but he doesn’t feel moved to offer any alternatives. “Brian? What about you, any plans?”

“No.”

There’s a beat of silence in the practice room after that curt response, noticeable enough that John looks up and glances over at Brian. He’s still fiddling with his guitar, though the new string is already in place, and he radiates a discomfort that can almost be physically felt.

John’s curiosity is piqued and he’s apparently not alone, because Freddie keeps pressing the issue. “What about for your thesis? Don’t you have to go back to Tenerife or something?”

“No. I’m, ah-” Brian shifts and finally looks up, locking eyes with Freddie. John watches as some silent conversation takes place between them, something that he can’t quite figure out even after two years of knowing them.

Still, it must somehow reassure Brian because after several long moments he sighs and says, “My thesis advisor recommended that I stay in England this year. He thinks I have enough research already, and that I should take the summer to either make substantial progress on writing my thesis or… or figure out where my priorities actually lie.”

“What does that mean?” Freddie asks.

It’s Roger who answers the question first. “It means he’s thinking of giving up on his thesis.”

“Not giving up, just…” Brian huffs, looking for the right explanation. “I’m already focusing more on the band anyway, and when the album is released we’ll have to do a proper tour to promote it so I’ll have even less time for my studies. It may be better for me to get my research in order and, well, set it aside for now.”

That sounds like giving up to John, and it’s the last thing he ever expected to hear Brian say. He feels a little like his world has been turned upside and he realizes, with a slow, sinking feeling growing in the pit of his stomach, that this might make him the last member of Queen to have reservations about their future together as a band.

“I haven’t decided anything yet, obviously,” Brian continues, unaware that John feels suddenly lost in both this conversation and this group. “But it is something that I’m thinking about.”

“Well, I think taking the summer to consider your options sounds like a wonderful idea,” Freddie says, his voice both bright and firm enough to leave no room for one of Brian’s darker moods to creep in. “We’ll just schedule a few shows here and there to get back into the swing of things and give you time to think things over. Does that sound good to everyone?”

Brian just nods, and Roger says, “Yeah, that sounds fine. Doesn’t make much sense to do a larger tour while most people are off on summer holidays anyway, and with any luck the album will be out by the time the fall semester starts up.”

For a moment John can’t find his voice, struck senseless by the feeling of being an outsider in this band long after he managed to carve out a niche for himself. Only this time he doesn’t feel alone because he’s the newcomer, but because he’s seemingly the only one who can see how ridiculous it sounds to be discussing a possible tour for an album that’s been sitting untouched for over six months now and shows no signs of getting released any time soon.

“Fine by me,” John forces himself to say, because it’s the expected response and it’s easier than trying to break down his maelstrom of emotions into something the others would be able to understand. “But I’ve really got to run now, so…”

The others wave him off with a flurry of goodbyes, and John ducks quickly out of the building and into the bright afternoon light. He takes a deep breath and exhales shakily, and realizes almost as an afterthought that his whole body is trembling with the lingering anxiety from the conversation that just happened.

He fumbles for his pack of cigarettes and, after several failed attempts to get one lit, he ducks around the corner of the building to get out of the wind. The rush of nicotine eventually calms the tremors but it does nothing to quiet his thoughts, and he lights another cigarette after finishing his first even though he knows it won’t help like he needs it to.

The only thing that will help is to finally decide what to do about his future, but the choice isn’t as simple as choosing between Queen and starting a professional career. It’s choosing between his friends and his music, and something foreign and unknown. It’s choosing between an assurance of security and stability, and a band that doesn’t seem to be going anywhere at all.

He loves Queen with all his heart, but that doesn’t drown out the voice that tells him to be practical here. He wishes it could. He wishes that he could have the confidence in Queen that the others all seem to have, that Brian has somehow managed to finally find… but he doesn’t. And he thinks he hates himself a little bit for that.

“John?” It’s Roger, holding his own pack of cigarettes in his hand, and giving John a look of understandable confusion. “I thought you had class?”

“I do- I did.” John flicks away his cigarette butt and, after a split-second of consideration, lights a third one. “I think I might be skipping today.”

“Huh. That’s a bit unusual for you, isn’t it?” Roger lights his own cigarette and takes a long drag. “You’ve always been more like Brian, taking your classes seriously and all,” he adds.

“Yeah, well, Brian’s apparently not taking things too seriously anymore himself,” John mutters.

Roger gives him a sideways glance. “Is that what’s got you all out of sorts? That Brian’s thinking of quitting his thesis?”

“Who says I’m out of sorts?” John knows that the deflection won’t work with Roger, but he still has to try it anyway.

“You’re out here chain-smoking and dodging class,” Roger says. “If that doesn’t scream “out of sorts” for you then I don’t know what does.”

John shrugs, noncommittal, and ignores Roger’s huff when he realizes that he’ll have to wait for an explanation. It’s not that John doesn’t want to talk about this; truthfully, he thinks it’ll do him some good to finally get this off his chest. But he’s kept this to himself for so long now that finding the right words is unexpectedly difficult.

“Brian said he’ll have to quit his studies to tour when the album gets released. Not if it does, but when,” John says at last. He knows that there has to be a better way to start this conversation, but Brian’s words are still fresh in John’s mind and this is the only place he can think of to begin.

“So what? Is it a crime for him to finally have a bit of optimism?” Roger asks.

“No, of course not,” John says, rolling his eyes at Roger’s flair for the dramatic. “It’s just, I’m not sure that I feel the same.”

“Oh.” John knows that Roger has more to say on the matter than just that, and sure enough after a moment he launches into an impassioned - though rather predictable - speech. “I know it’s been slow going these last few months, but the album’s going to be picked up sooner or later! It’s good stuff, you know it is, it’s just a matter of finding the right record company to work with to get it released. You’ve just got to be patient-”

“I have been patient,” John interrupts. “I’ve been patient for the last six months, and it was fine while I was in uni and when I wasn’t the only one still studying. But now Brian’s thinking of quitting his thesis and I’m… I don’t know that I’m as committed as you lot are. All I know is that I’m graduating next month, and I can’t keep my life on hold forever while Queen still waits for her big break.”

Roger isn’t an idiot and he immediately reads between the lines of what John is saying, just like John knew he would. “You’re thinking of leaving the band.”

John finishes his cigarette, and wonders if it would be overkill to light a fourth. Probably, he decides, so he shoves his hands in his pockets instead and leans against the side of the building, near Roger but not quite looking at him as he says, “Thinking of it, yeah. But I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

“Don’t do it.”

John snorts. “That’s easy for you to say. If Queen fails, you’ll just form another group. Music’s in your blood, Rog. I’m not sure it’s in mine.”

“That’s bullshit,” Roger snaps, almost properly angry now. John had been wondering how long it would take for Roger’s temper to flare up, and the answer apparently was not very long at all. “You’re one of the best fucking bassists I’ve ever met.”

“You’re just saying that because you don’t want to hold auditions again.” And because I don’t get in the way of you three at all, he thinks, though he knows that’s unfair. Maybe at the beginning he was only valued for being quiet and easy-going but that’s not the case anymore.

Maybe if it was, it would be easier for John to walk away.

“No. Well- yes, I really don’t want to audition for a new bassist,” Roger says, and John finds himself smiling despite himself. “But… fuck, Deacy, you’re excellent. I’ve played with enough bassists over the years, heard even more of ‘em try to play, and you are miles above any of them. I don’t know what it is but you just get it. Whenever you decide to stop playing the world will be much worse off for it. So don’t stop now, when you still have so much you can do.”

The sincere compliment catches John off-guard. It’s not that he doesn’t know he’s talented - he’s self-aware enough to know that he’s good, and though Queen strives for perfection they’re all generous with their praise when things are going well. But this is different than a quiet, “Nicely done, John,” from Brian or an effusive, “Wonderful sound, Deacy, simply perfect!” from Freddie - and, truthfully, John doesn’t know how to respond to it.

So he doesn’t, choosing instead of focusing only on the last bit of what Roger said. “It’s not that simple, Rog. Most of the jobs for new graduates start over the summer, and I can’t very well take a full-time position and still play with Queen. I’d have to give the band up.”

Roger flicks away his cigarette butt and lights another. “So don’t take a full-time position then.”

“I have to earn a living somehow, and it’s not like we’re getting rich with Queen any time soon,” John points out. It’s blunt, and maybe a bit harsh, but that doesn’t make it any less true.

“You can come work at the stall with me and Freddie.”

That startles a laugh out of John, and his steadily growing frustration at Roger’s stubbornness almost immediately vanishes. “That place barely rakes in enough money to support you two! And besides, I’m not much of a salesman.”

“And you think Freddie is? He just pesters people until they agree to buy something just to shut him up.” Roger grins at him and John smiles back, though it takes more effort than it normally would. Roger has always been able to brighten John’s mood, no matter the circumstances, but it’s hard for John to muster up any sincere happiness when he finds himself wondering if this friendship could survive John leaving the band.

The conversation comes to a comfortable halt after that, and John is a little surprised to find that there’s no tension or awkwardness in the silence he shares with Roger. Most of John’s earlier anxiety is gone, vanished now that he’s shared his dilemma with someone else, and he finds that he’s content to lean against the building, watching the smoke from Roger’s cigarette trail off into the late afternoon sky, and wait for his friend to say something again.

After a few minutes Roger sighs and finally breaks the silence. “Listen, John, I’m gonna be honest with you here. This worrying about needing a “proper job”... I don’t get it. I don’t understand it with Brian and I don’t understand it with you, because you were right - music is all I want to do. The only thing I learned at uni was that I’m not built to be a scientist… but I guess you are. And if you want to take off and become an electrical engineer, well, I’d get it. Queen won’t be the same without you, but I suppose if you’re determined then we can’t exactly stop you.”

“Is this supposed to be convincing me to stay?” John asks, a bit quiet, because he thinks he needs that right now. He needs Roger to give him a reason to stay, something that he can’t refute with logic and reason, something he can cling to as he heads towards his graduation and that uncertain future beyond.

“I don’t know that I can convince you,” Roger says, and the honesty hurts a little to hear. “All I know is that Queen will succeed. I know we will, but I can’t explain how or why I know that. It’s just a gut feeling I have, and maybe I’m naive for clinging to that despite how rough the last few months have been... but it’s all I have. And it’s all I can offer you.”

He scuffs out his half-finished cigarette on the brick of the building and pockets it as he turns to face John properly. “You don’t have to leave, not yet anyway. Give us the summer, same as Brian is. Get a seasonal job to tide you over, and if September rolls around and you still want to stop… Well, I’m sure there’ll still be places hiring electrical engineers then.”

“And what do you think can happen in the next three months, that hasn’t happened in the last six?” John asks, still skeptical, still hesitant, still afraid of choosing the wrong path and having to live with that regret for the rest of his life.

But Roger just smiles at him, easy and bright, and says, “Anything can happen. That’s the whole point.”

He’s not begging. There’s no desperation in his voice, none of his earlier anger coming through, his flair for the dramatic set aside for the moment. Roger is just sincere - sincere in his wish for John to stay and his understanding if he chooses not to, and sincere in his belief that Queen will succeed. Despite the odds, despite the setbacks, despite the stagnation of the last few months, Roger sincerely believes that they can make this work.

John still doesn’t know if he’s capable of that same level of optimism, but he does know Roger and he knows that he’s not a stupid man. And if Roger thinks that Queen is worth risking everything for… maybe that can count for something.

“Just the summer, then?” John asks, after thinking it over for a few moments.

Roger’s smile widens a little. “Just the summer,” he confirms. “Besides, you’ve sunk two years into this band already. What’s the harm in a few more months at this point?”

John had more or less just told Roger what the harm could be, but now for the first time in what feels like weeks he pushes those thoughts aside. He doesn’t need to consider those possibilities right now. He doesn’t have to consider anything right now if he doesn’t want to, and the relief he feels is almost dizzying in its intensity.

“Yeah, okay. You’ve got me for the summer,” John says, but the second half of his response is lost as Roger lets out a loud whoop of excitement and throws his arms around John, nearly barreling him over with the force of the hug.

“Oh thank fuck, I did not want to tell Freddie and Brian that we lost the best bassist in England today!” Roger says. He plants a messy kiss on John’s cheek and adds, “You won’t regret this Deacs, I promise!”

“I think I already do,” John jokes as he pushes Roger away, but he’s laughing brightly and smiling so wide that his face almost aches with it.

Roger just laughs and throws one arm back around John’s shoulder in a much more casual embrace, and John lets him leave it there without complaint. “Nah, you love me, I know you do. And - hey, since you skipped class and all, wanna go out for drinks? I’m supposed to be meeting Brian and Freddie down at the pub, you should join us.”

John considers it, just briefly, before shrugging and agreeing, “Yeah, alright. Why not?”

It’s the middle of the week and John should be in class, but right now this feels more important. Maybe Queen won’t go anywhere, and at the end of the summer John will finally say goodbye - but they’re here now, and maybe for tonight John can let that be enough.

  Eleven months later…

John keeps glancing out the window of the plane, though there’s little to see except the clouds around them, and the occasional glimpse of the ocean far below. This isn’t his first international flight, or even his first international flight with Queen, but he’s still filled with a wondrous sort of excitement because in just a few days they’re going to be playing in America.

John’s whole body is suddenly rocked as someone enthusiastically throws themselves into the too-small airplane seat next to him, and a moment later Roger is practically draped over John’s shoulder as he peers out the window as well. “Anything good out there?” he asks, his face so close to John’s that he can feel Roger’s breath hot against his cheek.

John pushes him away, and back into the other seat. “Brian won’t be pleased when he comes back from the toilet and has to fight you to get his seat back," he says instead of answering the question.

“Freddie’s already distracted Brian with some new song he’s working on and given my seat to him, so you’re stuck with me now,” Roger explains.

“Oh no, anything but that,” John says, dryly, just because he knows it’ll make Roger laugh.

It does, and Roger chuckles as he stretches out and settles down in his new seat. “You excited for the tour?”

“I am,” John says. “I’d ask if you were too, but I already know the answer." Roger hasn’t shut up about touring America ever since Mott the Hoople first extended the offer months ago.

“Can you blame me? It’s America! We’ve finally made it, John, this is it!”

“Yeah,” John says, quiet and thoughtful. “We have made it, haven’t we?”

Roger’s bright smile softens a bit and he rocks his shoulder gently into John’s. “Hey, I told you we would, didn’t I?”

“You did,” John agrees. “But still…”

Still, it hadn’t been easy. Despite initially promising Roger that he’d stick around for the summer John had still nearly walked away after his graduation in June - and then again in September, when they were still struggling to get any traction despite their first album finally getting released in July. He had taken a leap of faith and agreed to the UK tour and he’s glad he did because that’s when things started to pick up speed - slowly at first, and then so rapidly that it still makes John’s head spin to think about it.

They’ve toured the UK twice now. Performed in Australia. Recorded and released a second album. And now they’re going to America, with plans for a third album lined up for their return.

“I know,” Roger says, and he does because he was there. He was there for the shows that flopped, and the negative press reviews, and the long nights of driving with no sleep and little food, cramped quarters in an ancient van and motel rooms where they slept four to a bed because the couch was too small and they weren’t going to make anyone take the floor.

He was there, and so was Freddie, and so was Brian - somehow they’ve all come through the other side. Things aren’t perfect or even necessarily easy now, but John can finally look towards the future and see a bright light shining through.

“Thank you,” he says to Roger. “For not letting me walk away, I mean.” A year ago he couldn’t believe that his life would turn out like this and now he can’t even begin to imagine what his life would be like if he had left Queen. Maybe a bit more stable, with a bit more money, but certainly not richer. Not without the warmth of his friends and their music in his life.

But Roger just brushes aside his thanks as if it was nothing, when in John’s eyes it’s very nearly everything. “Like I said back then, I wouldn’t have blamed you if you did leave.” And he grins at John and adds, “But I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Yeah. So am I,” John says.

He glances out the window again, at the unchanging expanse of clouds and sky, and he’s so grateful to be here - in this band, on this plane, with Roger at his side and the whole world at their feet. He knows now that he belongs with Queen, and losing this, losing his friends, is an impossibility that he hopes he’ll never have to face again.

[dead-thorin]

some nice things happened this week. Wednesday was the department’s finals and i was rushing around and at one point i got to my desk and there was a gift. My friend got me smth for christmas and in the card she wrote consider this a birthday, christmas, thanks for everything u do for me gift and it was a chicken ornament :’)

On thursday one of the TAs brought his 7 month old daughter in and i got to hold her and she was literally so adorable. At one point, after she stopped being fascinated by the tree, she started getting upset bc she couldnt see her dad so my boss, who was holding her, walked to the copy room to show her where he was and she immediately stopped crying. Also, he’s a really funny and chill parent like idk how to describe it. She was wearing a jacket with the hood having like dinosaur scales on it and he and my boss took it off her so she wouldnt overheat. I helped him put it back on her and he, very calmly, was like and she doesnt like putting on clothes so shes going to go into a rampage. And as he strapped her to his chest and put on his own jacket he once again very calmly was like and shes gonna get overheated and go into a rampage again. he also joked about how toned and fit he was getting bc she likes it when he holds her in his hands and does squats bc of the movement

Three faculty members are expecting kids soon, with one of them being actually pregnant. I made them baby blankets and last week I started giving them to them. The one who is pregnant was like omg thats ridiculously sweet jordan im gonna cry and gave me a hug 😭Another one whos wife is expecting in early january thanked me and was a little awkward bc hes the type who doesnt know how to receive gifts, which like same. Today I ran into them as my friend and i walked into the supermarket and they were leaving. My friend saw them first and said hi and i noticed afterwards and was like hey! And his wife was like Oh! he made the blanket right? And when he confirmed she was like omg thank you so much that was so nice!!! I havent had the chance to make you a thank you card yet!! Also on Thursday i gave the last blanket and i didnt know how this guy was going to react bc hes very... stereotypically math. He hardcore cant make eye contact, he doesnt make conversation unless strictly necessary, and hes very awkward, nervous, and anxious. Over the semester I noticed that hes gotten better and like he still is nervous when talking but he talks a bit more and he makes way more eye contact. So I gave him the blanket and he was like ??? and i was like oh its a baby blanket! And he was like whos giving it??? and I was like Me? I made it for you since youre expecting a kid and he was like omg??? and he was super happy omg and we talked a little bit about it bc this is his first kid and he said he and his wife were a little bit nervous bc they didnt have family around since shes from china and hes from switzerland and i was like yeah but most of the people here have had kids so i think theyll help and he was like yeah but its still a little bit nerve wracking and i was like true true. He also was liek volunteering information instead of just strictly answering the question and idk this was the most hes spoken with me and it was super nice and pleasant. im really hoping i can see baby pics next semester 

Yesterday there was an end of semester party and i was hoping to spend at the most like an hour there since there were apparently gonna be a TA or 2 who didnt like me there and i just wanted to chat with a friend who graduated and one who was leaving next week. So I stayed there until 2am about and then we moved to the guy whos leaving’s house and stayed there until 4am and it was super chill. Most of the TAs were drunk too which was funny. But the highlight for me was that I got to chat with one of them who I only had a little bit of conversation with from time to time at the office and we talked for most of the party and it was super nice. He’s trying to find a job in the southeast bc his family lives there and we were talking with a TA and she mentioned like the perfect job position for him because its a good location and what he wants to do. It opened like 2-3 days ago? SO i took out my phone and started writing an email to him and asked her to repeat the job title and he was like what are you going to send this information to everyone? and i was like no? Im emailing it to you because youre at least a little drunk right now and might forget so this will be a reminder so u have this info later and can apply and he was like omg ur so nice and gave me like a bear hug. Also the guy who is leaving gave me a hug when i left his house and during the night he mentioned that i was invited to his wedding next year so thats cool. 

TAs have gotten exam results and one of them called me upset about it and we talked about it and she feels better about it now. At one point she was like Jordan youre so nice omg and i was like thanks i try and we talked for over an hour and it was nice. 

Yesterday i decided to take out my helix piercings because its been over 6 months (closer to 7 or 8 I think?) and they have had a bump on them since Ive gotten them. The hole is already closed and the bump is going down so thats good! It wasnt a lot of money and I might get it repierced but idk bc that was one of the more painful piercings and its annoying to soak. The rest of them are doing p well except my nostril has a little bump/scar? on it but hopefully thatll go away and it doesnt look bad. 

I got to pet 3 cats and 2 dogs this week and my friend gave me a jumpsuit that doesnt fit him! Hopefully next semester we can go to a club or smth and I can wear that. 

[pilotingthestars]

Feel free to ignore this post. I just need to vent and then maybe I can focus on studying. Rest of post will be below for all you curious people like me. But really it’s boring emotional, relationship stuff (or lack thereof). I also have bad story telling skills. I was advised to write down my thoughts and I feel silly writing it on paper so here they are. Prepare yourself for word vomit.

So, just about 3 months ago, things and I ended terribly with my ex (that’s now the first time I’ve called him that jeez). Let’s call him Rufus from now on since that’s what my grandpa calls him to be mean sorry to anybody actually named Rufus. We had been dating for a little over 3 years when I found on his work phone that he had downloaded tinder and had been using it for a few months. I can never say for sure if he cheated or not; when I found it there was one message from him to a girl and some matches. But, mind you, he had activated it months prior and lied to me about every detail that I did know when I found out. So really, while he says nothing went beyond what I saw, I couldn’t and still don’t believe him (always had a bad habit of not answering his phone and messages too when I wasn’t with him…makes you think). I will sadly forever remember the date this happened because I had just come home from my grandfather’s birthday party in the next city. It was already late that night so I would stay in the guest bedroom upstairs (we had our own house). The next day, I would head to my mom’s in the same city mentioned above which is about an hour away. Told him I needed some space to think on things and of course I wanted to be with my family as emotionally hurt as I was.

Now that I’m away I began thinking of what’s been going on with everything in those months before. The first and biggest thing that comes to mind is the former 3 of those 4 months he had the account before I found it, my grandfather had been critically hospitalized due to a serious fire accident. He is old so the hope that he would pull through was hard to see so I would end up being at the hospital everyday. This would end up being for the next three months because fortunately my grandfather pulled through despite the chances even though it was and still is a long healing process. When I visited him on his birthday, he had just been dismissed from the hospital a couple days prior to live with my mom. Now the idea that Rufus was doing this during that time and never really was there to support me and my family during it, completely pissed me off. Unfortunately, as mad and hurt as I was, I still cared for him. They were feelings I couldn’t just shake; I had thought this was the person I would be with until the end. We had a whole life together…even bought a house together. His family was my family and whatnot.

I never stayed in that house again after that first night of finding out. A few days later, and as chance would have it, I ended up talking to him about everything on valentines day. That night, I told him I would like to take some time apart (very clearly not break up) to help me emotionally handle it on top of staying up with my school and work responsibilities. He appeared to be very sorry and realized the mistake he made and promised he would take the time to self reflect and work on himself to be a better person (ha!). I would then commute from my moms house to town everyday for school and work which was a minimum 1 hour drive one way (1hr 45min if going to work). This was also the time the workload and intensity of my classes was picking up in the semester. Between the now loss of time I had to a commute + the increased school work (double STEM major here) + my lack of sleep + my emotional instability + helping take care of grandpa who at the time still had no use of both hands and was 100% dependent…things went down hill real fast. I began missing my early morning classes, missing quizzes, homework assignments, and even exams. It was the absolute shit show of all shit shows. Somehow I have managed to keep my work out of this mess but barely. On top of all this, my mom didn’t believe him about being sorry and working on things so she created a fake tinder account to see if she would find him on there still despite him having “deleted” it. I will forever be grateful for my mom’s insight and realizing I was being naive before I did. As you can guess, just after a couple weeks, she found him on there. I called him that day and asked how was doing and blah blah, basically getting a story from him that he still wanted things to work out. As I am on the phone with him, I just send him screenshots of his own damn profile just to hear him slowly shut up and realize he’s been caught. I ended it right then.

Fortunately, at the end of the day, the mortgage was solely under his name so I did not have to worry about any legal things there. The car I used was also under his name so I had to quickly find time to purchase my own vehicle since there is no other way of getting out to my work otherwise (it’s a requirement for the job that you have your own mode of transportation – it is too far out in the middle of nowhere for anyone to bike too). Unfortunately, still had to talk to him on and off to get the other bills situated. With everything mentioned above, I told him I wasn’t quite sure at the time when I would be able to move everything out and would probably have to be a few weeks until spring break (the least he could do was ignore my stuff in the house). Well, he took it upon himself to just pack everything up for me. I guess that made the labor part on me easy but, given I still stupidly had feelings, it hurt that he seemed to want all of me gone already. So, then I was officially moved out of there with the exception of a large desk I still have to pick up. It just so happened that that my mom was getting ready to move at this time (into the big city where my grandpa’s doctors are and also where my school and work is) so I didn’t have anywhere to put the desk at the time. We just moved in a couple days ago…that’s also why I didn’t rent myself a place from the beginning because my family and I would end staying together (also I’m broke af with a car payment now).

So spring break goes by and I had a small moment to breathe to finally fully asses the situation as is all i wanted to do from the beginning before finding him on the site again. Now me being the apparent sap that I am, I asked to meet with him so that we could just talk things over once and for all and close on a decent note. Now the one thing I had valued about the relationship, is that I made sure communication was key and I was always upfront with whatever was going on (which I thought he was too but turned to obviously not be the case). So I just let him know every thought and emotion I had whether good, bad, sad, whatever. One thing I noticed and found weird was that he unfriended me on facebook (social media…sigh) even though he never did his prior ex. He said it “hurt too much” with all the reminders and I, again, naively, believed him. I thought it was a good ending convo and we parted ways on okay terms. From this point I’m still trying to handle my stupid emotions and things go back and forth but overall get better little by little. Then I find out that the reason he really unfriended me is because he was in a relationship with somebody else (!!!!) like a week (according to fb) after we ended it. Now that one hurt.

I still had somehow convinced myself that he was sorry and actually cared for me (we were together for years!) so the last thing I expected was for him to move on so quickly. I realize now how dumb I was and I felt so stupid for believing him. I can’t help but think about how long they may have actually been together before it was officially announced on fb but I know those thoughts are useless and I’m trying to ignore them…getting better each day. Far better now actually. As far as I’m aware, he doesn’t know that I know. I plan on picking up that desk next week and I’m not sure what I’m going to say to him. I am at the point now where I just don’t give a shit about him and what he does. Part of me wants to just lay it all down and perhaps tell him off and give him some semblance of this shit he’s put me through. The other half says to just be the better person, get my desk and move on. Last time we talked he said not to be a stranger but I will let him know that he will not hear from me ever again. That much is clear.

Through all of this, my self esteem had been shot. I of course had the usual questions like where did I go wrong or is there something wrong with me. I know these are stupid questions and I believe I’m at the point beyond them now. I know I’ll never really find why he did what he did (never did tell me why other than just say over and over that he made a “mistake”) and that’s okay. At one point I signed up for some of the dating sites. Realized quickly I did not have the emotional capacity to actually meet people and attempt any semblance of a romantic connection with. It was nice for a minute to just talk to people though and see that a perhaps I’m not a total waste of space romantically.

I’ve come around to recognize my worth and realize that a romantic future outside of him is possible. Looking back at what we were, I feel glad that it is over. As my mother had saw (I really should listen to her more often), I also see now that I changed a lot about who I was to fit into his world (his life, his house, his family). One thing that always bothered me (on top of many others I also swept under the rug), was that he never cared to show interest in anything I cared about. It if it wasn’t something he initially found himself interested in, then it didn’t matter despite me always trying to be the good girlfriend and find myself looking into things he liked.

At first I thought it would be hard to get to know people (I was pretty socially reclusive during the relationship) because I was now a different person than I was three years ago (21 to 24). But I realize that’s only because I stowed away my true self for so long. Of course I will say I’ve matured but I’ve been doing a lot of self reflection lately and am re-encountering all the things that I enjoyed prior to all this. One of those is music! I went to a concert the other night for a band I’ve listened to for years (even before him) and it was one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time. Though I have been continuously going to shows, this last one really stuck out and made me realize the the things I want to focus on now. My top priorities are of course my family, my school (future grad student), and my work. But also I want to spend more time going out and exploring more (especially nature), get back into learning music, and just getting to meet new and amazing people! I don’t think I’ve felt this urge to just explore and be happy as I do now; especially as someone whose dealt with depression in the past. I feel now like I have the whole word ahead of me and I think I like the idea of being free.

[obsessed-withthe-hales]

Strike Two (Part 9 of Curve Ball)

Summary: An accidental collision. Lucky shoes. Baseball lessons. As much as they might try to deny it, fate seemed to be working to bring Derek and Y/N together. But being in each other’s lives could prove to be more complicated than either one of them bargained for.

Author’s Note: FINALLY! It is here, y’all!!! I know it has been an eternity since I updated this series, but it is finally written and I couldn’t love this part more. I really hope you guys like it, please let me know! Meanwhile, enjoy ;)

As always, a HUGE thank you to my co-pilot on this series, @snipsnsnailsnwerewolftales!!! She is so amazing to work with and always such great ideas!!! I can’t even say thanks enough <3

Warnings: Language; a lot of feels

Tags: @wheresthekillswitch, @urwarriorangel, @palaiasaurus64, @melanie451, @houseofrahl, @life-what-life-i-dont-have-one, @splashofbi, @livinglife-dsa, @miaforeverblue

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“Y/N? Are you even listening to me?” Stiles’ voice broke me out of my stare and I slowly turned my head to look at him, eyes wide and lips sucked between my teeth as I grunted out a ‘hm?’ He blinked at me several times before averting his gaze to the spot I was so tethered to only moment ago.

“Sorry,” I sighed. “I’ve just been...distracted.”

“I’ll say,” he snorts, earning a glare. “What’s up with you lately?”

“Nothing, I’m fine.”

“Yeah, that’s bullshit, but nice try. If I had to guess, based off of your intense and somewhat creepy staring, it has something to do with Derek and that girl he’s been hanging around with for a couple weeks.”

“Stiles, can you just drop it?” I hiss, panic starting to set in as I saw Derek walking toward us, the mystery girl’s form retreating down the hall. He puts his hands up in surrender, a quiet sigh of relief leaving my mouth. Derek took his seat and greeted us, Scott rushing in a few moments later and grinning as he slid into his chair right as class started.

“Hey, Y/N,” Derek said, falling into step beside me as we exited the building. “Got a second?”

“Yeah, what’s up?” I asked, trying to push down the nerves twisting in my gut and put on a kind and curious smile.

“I, uh-” he paused, bringing a hand up to rub across the back of his neck. Oh no. That’s not a good sign. “I’m not gonna be able to do baseball lessons this week. I’m really sorry, it’s just-”

“Oh, it’s fine, Derek,” I replied quickly with a dismissive shake of my head. “Seriously. You don’t have to explain. It’ll give me more time to get some stuff together for our project anyway. And I have an exam in another class I should study for this weekend, so. It kinda works out.”

“You’re the best,” he sighed, smiling widely at me. I chuckled at that, glancing down at my shoes in an effort to hide the blush on my cheeks. “I gotta go, but catch you later?”

“Sure. See ya.” With a final wave, Derek turned left and headed down another sidewalk. I watched him go, disappointment settling into my chest. Don’t freak out, it isn’t like he’s your boyfriend cancelling a date or something. There’s always next week.

Except next week didn’t happen.

Neither did the week after that. And by the time that had passed, it was way too cold to be outside throwing a baseball around. Suddenly I was only really seeing Derek in our history class and when our project group met every now and then. Apparently he was keeping his grade up without my help now because the tutoring had come to a halt, too.

To say I was upset didn’t quite convey it...I was just plain sad. Here was this guy, this cute and nice guy that I had a lot of fun with, that made me laugh, that I had actually considered a friend despite our rocky start, and now it was like I just didn’t exist to him anymore. I suppose that’s what happens when he finds a girlfriend.

I just kept telling myself to look on the bright side: I still had Stiles and Scott. And Lydia, of course. So it wasn’t like I was completely alone, far from it actually. Maybe this is what I get for questioning Allison and the damn shoes so much. Way to go.

Time seemed to fly by and before I knew it, finals were just around the corner. Long hours of reading and studying lied ahead, as well as putting the finishing touches on our project for history. Stiles, Scott and I were settling in for another Star Wars marathon weekend as a farewell to relaxation and laziness, the calm before the storm as they say, Lydia even joining us this time. I curled my favorite blanket around my shoulders, finding a comfortable position as Stiles set up the first movie.

“Hey, why don’t you text Derek? I’m sure he’d like to come,” Scott suggested, nudging my arm with his elbow. My heart fell at those words, but I tried not to let it show. That was the last thing I wanted to have to do.

“Uh, can you?” I asked, trying to avoid any extra contact with that kid if at all possible. You’re being childish. But he started it! Oh my gosh, you’re arguing with yourself again, Y/N. “My phone is about to die.” It wasn’t technically a lie.

“Yeah, sure.” I let out a small sigh of relief when he seemed to have bought it, no question in his eyes. As much as I hated to admit it, I couldn’t even pay attention to the beginning of the movie because I was way too focused on waiting for Scott’s phone to ding with the signal of a new message. What if Derek did want to come and he showed up at my door? What if he sat next to me during the movies? Wouldn’t it be awkward? What if-

I was snapped out of my mental rant by a quiet tweeting noise, my heart rate speeding up as Scott picked up his phone and read the message.

“It’s Derek.” I tried my best look nonchalant, but judging by Scott’s bemused eyebrow raise, he knew better. My intense laser beam stare that had been trained on his phone probably didn’t help my pathetic attempt at a ruse. It felt like an eternity before he finally typed out some reply and then gave me that tiny sympathetic grin before speaking. “Says he’s got plans tonight, but maybe next time.” Of course he does. Wait...shouldn’t I be relieved? Get it together and stop being so confusing, emotions!

“His loss,” Stiles mumbled before shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth and earning a curious look from Lydia.

“Hey kiddo!” The deep voice flowing through the speaker of my phone brought a small smile to my lips.

“Hi, Uncle Chris.”

“How are you? Getting ready for finals yet?” he asked, the grin in his tone evident.

“Yeah, I have a lot of studying to do, but I’m getting a jump on it. I don’t think my exams will be too hard, but I suppose we’ll see. Don’t want to jinx anything.” He chuckled over the line, the sound making my heart ache with a tinge of homesickness.

“You’ll be fine. You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for. And you’re a good test taker.” I huffed in acknowledgement, but when I didn’t offer anything else, he must have sensed something was off. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, I guess. I just-” How do you tell your uncle that you’re heartbroken over a guy that didn’t even have your heart in the first place? “Just a bit overwhelmed. Really stressed.”

“You’ll get through it, Y/N, don’t worry so much. Hey, how about I come down and visit this weekend, huh? We can go out to a nice dinner, maybe catch a movie. You can fill me in on everything.”

“Uncle Chris, I was just home for Thanksgiving a couple weeks ago,” I chuckled. “You’re pretty much up to date.”

“Still. It’ll be good for you to take a study break. Let your brain relax,” he continued. I had to admit, the offer did sound rather nice. Maybe spending some quality time with my uncle would be good for me. And the offer of food was on the table, so really, who was I to say no?

“Alright, yeah. That sounds like fun.”

“Great. I’ll be down Saturday afternoon.”

“Sounds good. See you then.” Ending the call, I let out a sigh as I fell back against my pillows. Staring at my notebooks scattered around me, I knew I should be studying, but the mere thought of it made my head hurt. I think my bed is really calling my name. Just a quick nap and then I’ll get back to it…

With that, I crawled under my covers and curled into a tiny ball, tuning out the world and my problems. At least for now.

“Do you have anymore finals today, Y/N?” Scott asked as I walked out of the classroom, he and Stiles straightening from where they were leaning on the wall waiting. I stuffed the papers that Professor Yukimura had given me into my backpack before offering a small smile.

“Nope. Just one more tomorrow and then I’m done.”

“And of course, since she’s a freakin’ genius, she’ll ace it and finish out the semester with a perfect GPA,” Stiles said, throwing his arm around my shoulders as we walked and making me laugh.

“Whatever, Stilinski. You’re just kissing up to me because I saved your history grade,” I joked. He only shrugged, not denying or confirming anything. We had just turned in our final project, all our hard work and research over the last several weeks coming to a glorious end.

Professor Yukimura had wanted to give me some information on the position I had decided to take with him next semester, so the guys had waited outside while I spoke with him. Derek, on the other hand, had left without so much as a goodbye wave. Probably in a rush to go meet his girlfriend.

“What about you guys? More exams?” Glancing between the two, I saw two very different expressions and couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I’m done!” Scott answered, a huge grin splitting his crooked face. “Which means that I get to go back to my room and finish packing before driving home tonight for break.”

“Well, you lucky dog! Stiles, judging by your face…”

“I have two more and a paper I still have to write,” he grumbled, earning a sympathetic pout from me. I leaned into his side for a moment, playfully nudging his ribs.

“You’ll be fine, don’t worry. And once it’s over, just think about how much sleep you can catch up on over break!”

“Sleep? What’s that?”

“Is that everything, kiddo?” Uncle Chris asked, scanning the room one more time. Pursing my lips, I did the same, not wanting to forget anything. Mentally going down the list in my head, I sighed and nodded my head.

“I think so.”

“Did you already tell your friends goodbye?”

“Yeah,” I replied, trying my best to ignore the ping in my chest. Lydia had left yesterday, hugging me tightly. Even though we were from the same town, we wouldn’t see each other over break because her family was going on vacation this Christmas. Stiles, Scott and I grabbed dinner together before Scott left the day before last and Stiles had stopped over to avoid studying by talking to me while I packed last night.

But Derek hadn’t said goodbye.

The last time I saw him was when he walked out of the classroom after we turned in our project. The last time we actually really talked, though, was...well, long before then. Pushing down the bitterness, I forced a smile and nodded, signalling that I was ready to go.

“Alright, let’s load up the SUV then!” Uncle Chris announced, turning to head for the door and carrying a couple of my bags. My brows shot up when he kicked something, sticking out from underneath my bed, and almost tripped. Bending down, he picked the offending object up and faced me, a questioning look on his face. “You need this?”

It was the old worn-out glove that Derek had given me for baseball lessons. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I shook my head.

“Nope.”

And I was ready to leave it there, but something courageous and maybe a little rebellious told me to do something else, something I would probably never even think of doing it it weren’t for the little voice in the back of my mind nagging at me.

“Actually...can we make one stop? I forgot I owe someone something.”

I was pretty sure that if I held this glove any tighter, my nails would puncture the leather. Taking a deep breath for what felt like the millionth time, I nodded my head and marched down the hallway toward Derek’s door. My heart was slamming against my ribcage, threatening to break free at any moment. Just get it over with, come on.

Now standing in front of his door, I gnawed on my bottom lip. Was I seriously about to do this? I didn’t even know what I was going to say to him. ‘Hey, I know you’ve been ignoring me and that I haven’t really made any effort to talk to you either, but here’s the glove you gave me. Thought I should return it since you dropped our baseball lessons. Have a great break, Merry Christmas!’ Yeah, like that would go over well.

Looking down at the ground as if it would give me some much-needed courage, I realized that I was tapping the toe of my right shoe against the floor absentmindedly, and sighed. I blame you for whatever...this...turns out as, Allison.

“Alright, you can do this,” I told myself quietly, firmly planting my right foot to stop its incessant nagging, I stepped up and raised my hand to knock on the door. That’s when I heard it. The distinct sound of a girl laughing, Derek’s deep chuckle accompanying it. All my resolve crumbled into the pit of my stomach. Turning to leave in defeat and silently berating myself for thinking this was a good idea, I nearly smacked right into someone.

“Whoa, hey. You alright?” a sweet voice asked. I looked up into the face of the woman I almost plowed over, eyes wide in embarrassment.

“I’m so sorry,” I told her. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“It’s okay,” she chuckled. Her eyes flicked towards Derek’s door then landed back on me, her small smile growing wider. “Are you a friend of Derek’s?”

“Oh, um- I-” Shit.. “No. Well, kind of. I tutored him. That’s, ah...that’s about it, I suppose.” Deep breath, Y/N. As long you remember to breathe, you’ll be fine. Alright, good. No, not that deep. Don’t be weird. Breathe like a normal human. “Are you-”

“I’m Laura, Derek’s older sister. Do you wanna come in? We’re just getting him packed up for break.” This is it, this is your out! Take it, take it now!

“Actually,” I started. “I’m kind of in a hurry. My uncle is waiting outside for me. Could you- could you maybe give this to him for me?” I held out the glove, biting my lip nervously and hoping against hope that she would agree. Thankfully, she did. “Thanks, I really appreciate it.” With that, I started to walk around her, wanting nothing more than to get the hell out of there, but I stopped short. “Can you tell him...well, actually. Just don’t tell him anything.”

Before she could respond, I spun on my heel and made my way to the nearest exit, choosing to ignore which foot I led with. I couldn’t handle all this fate crap anymore.

Sorry, Alli. Not now. And no, I don’t actually blame you.

What good was knowing what fate wanted when it was the one thing it was keeping you from? Putting one foot in front of the other is the only that could change fate. No matter what foot I was on, carrying on with my own two feet would be enough.

It had to be.

I would make it be.

From here on out, I was the master of my own fate. And as far as I’m concerned, it doesn’t include Derek freaking Hale and his perfect freaking smile and that contagious freaking laugh…” I shook my head at myself, exasperated. How in the world did I end up here? More importantly...how am I gonna get myself out? Whoever or whatever made my life cross paths with his is going to get a very strongly worded letter...

[rosirinoa]

Last credits Pt. 2

Pt. 1 available here.

A month later, Professor Ackerman told his students to decide on a subject for their final essay.

“Listen up, class. For next week, you should decide on the subject for the final essay. You can choose whatever you want, as long it’s related to the class. The idea it that you work on it for the rest of the semester, so I’ll expect a high quality work. Like Otto Von Bismark said: the main thing is to make history, not to write it, but in this case, you’ll have to write… and do it properly. You cannot make history if you don’t know it.”

That day, Petra felt confused. She didn’t feel confident to pick a subject. She wanted it to be original, but she’d never written an essay like the one Mr. Ackerman was asking for. Suddenly, she remembered the Professor saying they could ask him for academic counseling, so she decided to pay him a visit. Nevertheless, in order to do so, she needed to have at least a few clear ideas, so she hurried to go back home and start with the investigation.

The next day, she went to Professor Ackerman’s office. It was a little troublesome for her to get there, since it was an unknown faculty for her, it took her a while to get to the right building.

His office was on the second floor and Petra looked at the numbers on the wall until she found number 117 and when she was almost in front of the door, she saw two people getting out of there.

“Thank you, Doctor Ackerman. See you later.” a young man with black hair closed the door and looked at the girl.

“Petra, right?”

“Hi, Gunther… Oluo,” she nodded and then looked at the other guy next to him “are you here for counseling too?”

“Yeah, we were a little confused, but the Professor gave us some good ideas to start our essay.” With a lot of discretion, he elbowed his friend and said “Oh, Doctor Zoe!... sorry, I need to talk with the Coordinator.” And then he hurried to the stirs, leaving Petra and Oluo alone.

“Petra…. If… if you need help with your essay, we could Exchange numbers and I can help you. I have great experience with academic writing.”

“Really? Cou…” she was interrupted by a yell coming out from the office.

“Why the hell is there so much noise outside my office, dammit?” the professor opened the door and looked at the students.

“Doctor!... eh, I mean… Professor, I…” Petra tried to explain.

“I’m sorry, I was just telling my classmate that I could help her with his essay and…”

“Oluo… you were just in my office, asking me how to write your freaking essay. Is obvious you don’t have the capacity to help Petra with hers. That’s what I’m here for.”

“Y… yeah, but…”

“Are you going to stay there, Petra? Get inside my office.”

“Yes, thank you.” And after smiling at Oluo, who was pretty much speechless, she went inside.

“Have a seat.”

The professor was right behind her and put a hand on the back of her chair where she was sitting, leaning forward towards her. That took Petra by surprise and she blushed a lot, but she calmed herself after seeing he was just reaching for a folder that was on his desk.

“Sorry, I need to take this to the coordinator. I’ll be right back.” And then he went out, closing the door behind him.

Petra took the opportunity to relax a little, but she had to admit her heart stopped for a moment. Professor Levi had a nice profile, and she saw it closely a moment before, not to mention his cologne… it was fresh and elegant, just like him. The fragrance lingered inside the office and Petra’s nose was delighted with it, while she looked around.

The place was immaculate. Everything was meticulously set on a specific place. There was a tall shelf filled with books and there was a computed on the desk, showing a half written document on the monitor. Behind the desk, there was a table with a small coffee maker that seemed to be brand new.

There were a few noted on the calendar hanged on the wall and even some post-it notes on the monitor, but not a single decoration of personal object… except for a couple medals and a picture of him with her Faculty Coordinator, Erwin Smith and another woman. Petra unconsciously sighed, thinking that woman could be her girlfriend, but abandoned the idea immediately and got distracted with the medals next to the desk.

Levi Ackerman… undoubtedly, the personality and the man himself picked up Petra’s attention. It was incredible; all the things he knew and the way his blue eyes sparkled every time he spoke to the class. Even his acid humor was attractive, but that wasn’t the time to think about those things, and the best way to erase that thought would be to read the inscriptions in those medals next to the desk.

They were all from trail races, and despite being from different years, they were from the same event “the Titan trail”. Petra never imagined the Professor being into sports. He certainly was full of surprises, and then…

“Yeah, I left it in one of my drawers, wait there…” the Professor entered the office and looked for something inside one of the desk drawers. Apparently, he was talking with someone… someone Petra recognized from the photo she had just seen.

“Oh, you’ve got company.” The woman smiled when she saw Petra.

“I told you to wait outside, four eyes. My office is off limits for you. Here’s the USB memory.” Levi gave her the memory stick “Petra… do you know Hanji Zoe? She’s the Social Sciences Faculty Coordinator.”

“Oh, nice to meet you!” she kindly smiled, relieved after concluding she couldn’t be her girlfriend.

“Petra Ral? Wow… I finally meet you. Erwin spoke to me about you.”

“Thank you so much for letting me take a class in your faculty.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. I was once in your situation, so I know how frustrating it could be to not fill the requirements to graduate on time. But tell me, how are you doing on history class?”

“Tsch… of course she’s doing fine. I’m her teacher.” Levi growled “now, if you don’t mind, I was about to speak with Petra.”

“Oh, sure, sure! See you later, then. And don’t forget about this Friday’s dinner with Erwin and me.” Hanji left with a grin on her face and when Levi saw the door closing, she sat on his chair and looked at the girl in front of him.

“She could be a really nuisance…” the girl laughed discreetly “I suppose you are here for your essay.”

“I do. I… have a couple doubts about the topic and, to be honest, I’m not used to academic writing. We are usually evaluated with exams of projects in my major and…”

“I understand… International Commerce is more practical than theoretical. Tel me, what do you have in mind?”

“I was thinking about doing an analysis about the impact of commerce on military conflicts during the XVIII and XIX century.” The Professor’s eyes became brighter and a tiny smiled appeared on his lips. Something rare on him.

“My, my… to be honest, I thought you’d choose something like the evolution of commerce through history, or something about the colonies, but… I’m glad I was wrong.” He leaned back on his chair and looked at the computed monitor for an instant, while he played with a pen on his hand “you never stop amazing me.”

“’I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It is.” She looked at her for a moment, but he did it in a different way than he did in class. He had a different personality, perhaps because he was inside his office and not surrounded by students, or maybe because he felt comfortable with Petra. Whatever the reason, the change made her smile. “It’s an ambitious topic, and if you don’t have experience on writing essays, it could be troublesome.” She was about to say something, but Levi continued “I’ve noticed you are very interested in the class. You frequently ask smart questions and is obvious you do some research at home, so I’ll give you a choice.”

“Yes?” Petra was expectant.

“I’m willing to provide you academic counseling for the rest of the semester, so your essay would be well done.”

“Really?”

“…But only, if you transcribe my notes to the computer.”

“Your notes?”

“Yes…” he opened one of the drawers and took out a notebook, along with a small box with note cards.” I’m meticulous man and with deep-rooted customs, and that causes me some troubles,” he opened the notebook “when I read a book or an article, I write down the important parts in a note card or in here, with my own handwriting, so I’ve accumulated a big pile of papers that need to be transcribed in the computer, so I can have a decent database.”

“I understand…” she looked at the notebook. His notes, despite of being organized, were done with a pretty messy handwriting; very different from the one he used to write on the board and Petra fund it quite amusing. That organized and strict man did have a defect, after all “deal.” She smiled.

“Alright.” And then he immediately started to look through his computer files and Petra seemed confused after his attitude change “do you have an USB memory?”

“I…” she remembered she left it in her room “No, I didn’t bring it.”

“Damn… this is just as if you were in the battlefield without a weapon…” he opened his drawer again and took a memory stick “I’ll lend you this one. Take care of it, and I expect it back without viruses, ok?” he glared at her for an instant and then looked back at the monitor “I’ll give you a couple PDF books, so you have enough information for your essay. I’ll also add a quoting and referencing manual. I don’t want plagiarism of any sort. Any idea you take out of those books, had to be correctly quoted. Do you require a writing manual as well?” he coldly asked, but the girl found his concern a little funny. It was as if he was thinking about everything in a mechanic way.

“No.” she laughed “I don’t think so.”

“Tsch… I’ll include it anyways. I don’t want to have a big disappointment when I read your progress.” And a moment later, heh handed her the memory stick, along with the notebook on his desk “Today is Wednesday, you can bring me the transcriptions next week, in this same memory. As for your progress on the essay, you have two weeks to write a general outline.”

“Sounds good.”

“I’m usually here after 11 AM and until 5 PM. Not a single minute later. Except for Fridays. I go out at 12 PM.”

“Understood. I’ll see you tomorrow in class.” Petra said goodbye and kindly smiled before going out of his office. He followed her with his gaze.

Once he was alone, Levi leaned back on his chair and looked through the window. When they told him an International Commerce student would take his history class, he expected a completely different girl; someone not interested on the class and who probably would abandon on the first chance, but Petra turned out to be an intelligent, kindhearted and capable girl, and she was also willing to tolerate his attitude. That’s why she picked up his attention. Now he was anxiously expecting her first deadline.”

To be continued…

 Author’s notes.

Hi there! This is the second part of this fanfic, based on rivetra week’s history prompt. I really like where this is going, and I hope you too. I certainly can picture Levi as an strict professor, one of those who are the best, but annoying at the same time.

[thelastspeecher]

Stan Pines, Farmhand - Chapter 8: Crushed

Chapter 1   Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4   Chapter 5   Chapter 6 Chapter 7   Chapter 8   Chapter 9   Chapter 10   Chapter 11   Chapter 12   Chapter 13   Chapter 14   Chapter 15   Chapter 16   AO3

I decided to post this during my weird hour break between my two morning classes.  And I was editing it even as I was putting it into AO3.  This chapter has been tweaked a lot.  I’ve delayed writing most of this chapter and posting it bc the last scene (which my beta described as cheesy and cute) makes me very nervous for...reasons.  You’ll understand why when you read it.  But the next chapter, that one is the point of no return.

Anyways, in this chapter, no one is straight and it snows.

September 8, 1972

               The phone picked up on the second ring.

               “Lute, somethin’ just happened,” Stan said without preamble.  Lute sighed.

               “Stan, it’s 3 am.”

               “Yeah.  So?”

               “So…never mind, what’s goin’ on?” Lute said idly.  

               “I just got home.”

               “Geez, where were ya?  None of the bars in Gumption stay open past one.”

               “I was at someone else’s house.”  

               “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Lute said.  He now sounded wide awake.  “Someone else’s house?  Ya can’t mean that-”

               “I got laid, man,” Stan whispered, trying to not be overheard by anyone else in the house.

               Even though Sally and Mearl are both asleep.  

               “Nice.  Was it that girl, Alyssa?”

               “No.”

               “Then who?”

               “Some biker.”

               “Some biker?!”

               “Yes.  His name’s Jimmy Snakes.”

               “Wait.  His name?”

               “…Yeah.”

               “Oh, Lord.”  Lute paused. “Wait, there ain’t any bikers in Gumption.  At least, none with houses.”

               “I wasn’t at his house.”

               “Who’s house were ya- never mind.  I don’t want to know.  Seems to me like this is the sorta thing I could be an accessory to if I know too much.”

               “Lute…”

               “That’s a interestin’ way to come out,” Lute said.

               “What?”

               “Yer callin’ me to tell me yer a homosexual, right?”

               “No!”

               “Stan,” Lute started.

              “I’m not homosexual,” Stan protested. There was a sigh over the phone.

               “Ya just called to tell me about yer one-night stand with another man,” Lute said in a patient, but slightly irritated voice.  “There’s nothin’ wrong with bein’ a homosexual.”

               “I’m not, though!” Stan insisted.  “I like girls and guys.  That’s- that’s not what a homosexual is, is it?”  There was a long silence.  “Uh, Lute?”

               “I heard this word a couple times at school,” Lute said slowly. “Well, it ain’t the most acceptin’ school in the world, but that don’t mean we don’t get all sorts of God’s children here.  And a couple of ‘em have used this word to talk ‘bout themselves.  ‘Bisexual’.”  Stan mouthed the word to himself.

               “What does it mean?”

               “The folks what use it, they’ve had girlfriends and boyfriends ‘fore.  Now, I can’t tell ya how to feel or what words to call yourself, but it seems like that might fit ya.”  

               “There’s- there’s a word?”

               “Yep.”  A weight Stan hadn’t known he was carrying lifted from his shoulders.

               “There’s a word,” he repeated quietly.

               “Yup,” Lute said, tiredness beginning to seep into his voice.  “Look, I’d love to chat more with ya, but I’ve got an exam in the mornin’.  So I just have one more question fer ya.”

               “Yeah?”

               “While you were with bikers, ya didn’t get any tattoos you’ll regret later, did ya?”

----- 

April 1, 1973

               The phone picked up on the first ring.

               “Hi, this is Sharon speaking, who’s calling?”  

               “Angie’s fam’ly,” Ma McGucket replied.  “Can we talk to her?”

               “Ugh.  Yeah, sure.” Sharon covered the mouthpiece, but Stan and Ma and Pa McGucket could hear her talking to Angie.  “McBucket, it’s for you.”  Angie sighed, softly enough that Stan could barely make out the sound of resignation.

               “Thanks, Sharon.”

               “Yeah, whatever, just take the damn phone already so that I can go to class.” There was shuffling over the line.

               “Hello?” Angie said hesitantly.

               “Happy birthday, baby girl!” Ma McGucket said.

               “Can’t believe yer finally an adult, junebug,” Pa McGucket added on.

               “Yeah, all the things they already said,” Stan said.

               “Y’all called me?!” Angie said happily.  “Ya didn’t need to!”  

               “Of course we did!  It’s yer birthday,” Ma McGucket said.  

               “What’s up with yer roommate?” Stan asked.  “She seemed like a bi- uh…”  Stan trailed off as he caught Ma McGucket’s look.  “A…bit mean,” he finished weakly.

               “Sharon?  We ain’t gettin’ along very well,” Angie replied.  “I’m thinkin’ I’ll need to look fer a new roommate soon.”  

               “That’s a shame,” Pa McGucket said.  “Why?”

              “Don’t rightly know,” Angie said. Pa McGucket checked his watch.  

              “Shoot!  I got to get goin’.  Sorry, junebug.”

               “It’s okay, Pa.”

               “I have to do some stuff fer my teachin’ job,” Ma McGucket added.  

               “Bye, Ma, Pa,” Angie said.

               “Bye, sweetie.  Happy birthday.”  

               “So I guess it’s just you and me, Stan,” Angie said.  Stan turned the phone off speaker and put it up to his ear.

               “Yep.  Nice to hear you soundin’ normal again, by the way.”

               “Whattaya mean?”

               “Last coupla times we’ve called, you haven’t sounded like yourself,” Stan said. Angie scoffed.

               “Yeah, right.”

               “I figured out what it was.  You’ve been droppin’ yer accent at school, haven’t ya?”

               “What?!  No, I would never do that!  I’m proud to be southern,” Angie said defensively.  

               “Don’t bother lying to me,” Stan said.  Angie huffed.

               “Fine.  Yer right. It’s just- there’s so many snooty rich folks here, and they kept messin’ with me ‘cause of my accent.  It was the only way to get ‘em off my back.”

               “And that’s why you’ve been actin’ so weird at college?”

               “Part of it, yeah.”

               “Is the other part the reason yer roommate hates you?”

               “I don’t know why Sharon decided to-”

               “Angie, seriously.  Yer not a good liar.  So what’s the real reason you’re gonna need to get a new roommate?” Stan asked.  “You guys got along really well at first.”  Angie hesitated.  “C’mon, you can tell me.”

               “I sometimes forget that my folks ain’t most people,” she said softly. “That they’re more acceptin’ and understandin’ than the average person.”

               “What are ya gettin’ at?”

               “Sharon saw me kissin’ a girl and blew her gasket,” Angie said in a rush. Stan’s jaw dropped.

               “Whoa whoa whoa.  You kissed a girl?”

               “…Yes.”

               “Why?”

               “‘Cause I could?  And Hannah’s so pretty.  And smart.  She’s in my chemistry class, y’know.”

               “Are you dating?”

               “We haven’t really moved past the initial kiss,” Angie said awkwardly. “Sharon walked into the room and yelled at us, so that kind of ruined the mood.”

               “That is a hell of a mood killer.”

               “But maybe it’s a good thing that Sharon saw.  I mean, I don’t want a roommate like Sharon, who hates folks what aren’t the usual kind of person.  And this way, I can get an apartment or somethin’.  Maybe with that person who I met last semester.”

               “Marley?”

               “Yeah!  The only downside of roomin’ with Marley is that they sometimes smell like spiders.”

               “Still usin’ ‘they’, huh?”

               “I’m too nervous to ask if Marley’s a boy or girl!” Angie said insistently.

               “Hey, I ain’t judgin’ ya.”

               “Don’t know if I believe that.”

               “Anyways, are ya excited to come home for the summer?”

               “Yes!  Bein’ ‘round all these snooty folks is so drainin’.  I’m ready to come back to Gumption.”

               “Good.  I mean, it’s not like I’ve missed ya or anything, but it’ll be nice to have ya back,” Stan said gruffly.  Angie laughed.

               “Yer a funny man, Stanley Pines. Don’t bother tryin’ to hide it, I know yer a softie.”  There was some noise on her end.  “Oh!  That’s Hannah, at the door.  I should get it.”

               “Do that.  Take her on a nice date or somethin’, too.”

               “Stan!”

               “Hey, I’m just tryin’ to help ya out.  Bye, Angie.”

               “Bye, Stan.”

----- 

November 18, 1973

               Loud knocking on his door woke Stan up.

               “Who is it?” he grumbled sleepily.

               “Angie.”

               “Why?”

               “I’ve got a lot of Gucklings out here that all want to see the new foal, an’ I want to see her, too,” Angie replied.  Stan sat up.  

              What’s a Guckling?  Wait, that’s what the McGuckets call their kids, right?

               “All right, all right, gimme a sec,” Stan replied, fumbling out of bed and pulling on the clothes he’d worn yesterday.  He opened the door, and as she’d said, Angie was standing in the hallway, surrounded by a small crowd of young McGuckets.  

               “Howdy, Stan!” the Gucklings said, more or less together.  Stan squinted at them.

               “Did ya practice that?”

               “That ain’t important,” the oldest of the Gucklings, a girl with red hair and glasses too large for her face said.  “What’s important is that there’s a filly what we haven’t seen yet.”

               “Yeah, okay, come on then.  Follow me.” The Gucklings cheered as they followed him outside.  On the way to the barn, multiple children got close enough to Stan that they stepped on the backs of his heels.  The fourth time this happened, Angie intervened.

               “Gucklings, ya know the rules.  Don’t nip at folks’ feet.  It ain’t proper.”

               “We’re just excited ‘bout seein’ the lil horsie is all,” the oldest Guckling, who had apparently been chosen as their spokesperson, said.

               “Heatherbelle, it don’t matter,” Angie said firmly.  “Take a step back.”  

               “No point,” Stan said.  He opened the barn door.  “We’re here.” The Gucklings poured into the barn eagerly.  

               “Gucklings, don’t crowd ‘round the foal, okay?” Angie called.  “‘Member, be nice to the animals!”  She winced as one of her cousins knocked over a pitchfork. “Stan, ya might want to go-”

               “On it,” Stan said, already moving through the crowd of children to the stall where Daisy and her foal were.  He stopped in front of it.  “Okay, first off, some rules.  No one goes in the stall except fer me and Angie.”

               “Aww,” the Gucklings whined.

               “Second, don’t make any loud noises.”  Stan beckoned Angie over.  She moved carefully amidst the sea of small children, picking up a few and setting them down.  Once Angie had joined him in front of the stall, Stan resumed talking.  “Third, I don’t want to hear people smack-talkin’ what I named the foal.”

               “What did ya name it?” one of the younger McGuckets, a blonde girl named Gidget, asked.  

               “Staniel.”

               “Staniel?” Angie asked.  

               “Yeah.  What’s wrong with the name?”

               “Fer one thing, I thought it was a filly.”

               “So?  I was there when she was born, I get to name it.  Your fam’ly’s rules,” Stan said stubbornly.  Angie sighed.  

               “Fair enough.  A horse givin’ birth ain’t the nicest thing in the world to watch, after all.”

               “Auntie Angie, when do we get to see the filly?” Layla asked.  

               “Right now,” Stan replied, opening the door to the stall.  He and Angie blocked the Gucklings from entering.  The Gucklings cooed at the sight of Daisy and the new foal.

               “Stan, ya didn’t mention she was a perlino,” Angie said softly.  Stan looked at her.  She was gazing at Daisy and Staniel with wide, adoring eyes.

               “What’s a perlino?”

               “The kind of colorin’ Staniel has,” Angie replied, moving into the stall and stroking her horse.  

              “I’ve been callin’ it a reverse palomino,” Stan said.  Angie shook her head.  

              “Stan, ya really don’t know much ‘bout horses.”  She wrapped an arm around Daisy’s neck and kissed her.  “Good work, girl.  She’s beautiful,” she whispered to her horse.  Daisy nickered in response.  Stan smiled faintly at Angie’s kind-heartedness.

               “Checkin’ on yer grandchild, huh?” a voice interrupted.  Stan and Angie turned.  At some point, Lute had joined the Gucklings still crowding around the stall. Angie frowned.  

               “Grandchild?  Whattaya mean, Lute?”

               “Well, Staniel over there is Hardtack and Daisy’s foal.”

               “So?”

               “Hardtack is Stan’s, Daisy is yours.  Therefore, Staniel’s yer grandchild,” Lute explained.  Angie rolled her eyes.

               “Ya don’t know what yer talkin’ ‘bout, Lute.”

               “Sure I do.”

               “I think ya just got bucked offa Tuesday a few too many times,” Angie said dismissively, returning to the front of the stall and punching Lute on the arm. She and Lute walked away.  The Gucklings followed them.  

              Stan watched them leave, a warm feeling spreading throughout his chest.

----- 

December 13, 1973

               Stan grumbled in frustration as he tried on the cowboy hat he’d gotten for his 18th birthday from the McGuckets.  He huffed at his reflection, dissatisfied.  

               This ain’t working.  Lute appeared in the mirror behind him.

               “Hey!  The bathroom’s ocupado, McGucket.”

               “Ya know what yer doin’, right?” Lute said, ignoring him.  Stan sighed.

               “What?”

               “Yer puttin’ blankets on the horse ‘til ya can’t tell it’s ugly no more.”

               “Oh, so now I’m ugly?”

               “It’s a sayin’, Stan.  It means yer tryin’ to cover up somethin’ so that folks can’t see it.  In this case, it’s yer red hair.”

               “What’s yer point?” Stan asked tiredly.

               “Ya don’t like havin’ red hair, fair enough.  You’d rather have yer brown hair again.”

               “Yeah…”

               “I can help ya.”

               “Really?”  Stan turned, so that he was no longer talking to Lute’s reflection.  “And how exactly are ya gonna do that?  Even those damn geniuses we’re related to couldn’t figure somethin’ out.”  Lute grinned. He held up a razor.

               “Just got to use this on yer hair.”  Stan clamped his hands down over his head.

               “No.  Uh-uh. You are not gonna shave me!”

               “Oh, come on! It’ll solve the problem!  Yer hair’ll grow back brown.”  Lute got a pensive look on his face.  “Unless Ford’s weird concoction was strong enough to make ya a redhead fer life.”

               “No shaving!  It’ll wash out, Ford said so.  Now, get outta the bathroom, I gotta take a piss.”  Stan shoved the much smaller McGucket out of the room and closed the door. He looked at his redheaded reflection.

               It’s not that bad, is it?  He picked up the cowboy hat, which Lute had knocked onto the floor at some point during their conversation.  Stan carefully put it on.  Nope. It’s worse. He slammed his head onto the bathroom counter and groaned loudly.

               “The razor’s still in there, if ya want to use it!” Lute shouted through the bathroom door.

               “Go away, Lute!”

               “Fine.”  Stan listened carefully, making sure he heard Lute walk away.  Once Lute was actually gone, he sighed heavily.  

               “It’s pointless.  There’s no fixin’ it ‘fore Angie gets back,” he told himself.  

               Why do I care about getting my hair back to normal before she gets back?  No, I know why.  It’s because my stupid knucklehead of a heart decided to make me have a crush on someone who probably only thinks of me as a brother.  Because I turned her down once already!  He groaned and slammed his head down on the counter again.  God, is this how Angie felt?  This is awful!  No wonder she acted so weird around me!  

               “If only the people who would be willing to talk to me about girls weren’t related to her,” Stan muttered.  “There’s no point in callin’ Ford…he doesn’t understand girls at all.  I have to decide on my own what to do ‘bout this.”

               Should I make a move?

----- 

December 15, 1973

              Stan turned up the radio, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel to the beat.  He was almost to Little Rock, and Angie’s plane would be landing at the airport there any minute now.  A grin spread across his face.

              God, it’s been only two weeks, but it feels like forever since I’ve seen her. He could picture her perfectly: the bright caramel-colored hair, the sparkle in her intelligent blue eyes, her innate gracefulness, and her boundless enthusiasm and energy.  Last time we heard from her, she was nervous about her finals.  Hope they went well.  He hummed along with the radio eagerly.  Can’t wait to see her face again, give her a hug, walk around the farm, sit down and chat.  Stan had a sudden image of sitting on the pasture fence, Angie next to him.  He had an arm wrapped around her shoulders, and they both leaned in…

               Stan suddenly jerked the steering wheel roughly, swerving the Stanleymobile. He regained control of the car, panting slightly.  He checked his mirrors.

               No one else is on this road. Good.  He swallowed.  Chill, Stanley.  Don’t think about how pretty she is, or the way her eyes light up when she starts talking about salamanders, or her cute voice that she hates so much.  He groaned.  Shit.

----- 

January 3, 1974

               “Stan, could ya help me out?”  Angie asked, opening the front door.

               “Uh, I s’pose.  Whattaya need help with?” Stan asked, getting up from the couch.  Angie blew a stray strand of hair out of her face.  

               “I’m s’posed to take down the mistletoe, but I’m too darn short to reach the one on the porch.”

               “Comin’.”

               “Thanks.  And please hurry, would ya?  It’s cold out here!”

               Stan joined Angie on the porch.   The screen door slammed shut behind him.  Their breath misted into clouds in the wintry night.  Angie shivered, hugging herself in an attempt to stay warm.  Stan couldn’t help but notice the way her eyes glimmered in the dim porch light, and how her hair seemed to catch the crisp moonlight just beyond the porch lamp’s reach.  

               “It ain’t that cold,” Stan said idly, stuffing his hands into his pockets. Angie rolled her eyes.  “There ain’t even snow on the ground!  And durin’ the holidays!”

               “That’s how it is some years.  We don’t always have a white Christmas.”

               “So, where is it?” Stan asked finally, after a few moments of silence.

              “Where is what?”

              “The mistletoe.”

              “Oh, right.  It’s over there.”  Angie pointed at a bunch of mistletoe, dangling from the eaves.  He walked over to it.  

              “Hmm.”

               “What?”

               “I can get it down,” he said slowly.  “But it’d be a shame.”

               “Why?” Angie asked, joining him underneath the mistletoe.  

               “I didn’t see anyone kiss under it.  Takin’ it down now would be a waste.”  Angie looked at him suspiciously.

               “What are ya gettin’ at?”

               “I’m gettin’ at this.”  Stan moved closer toward her.  Instinctively, picking up on his body language and a subconscious desire of her own, Angie leaned in as well, and they met in the middle.

               As they kissed, the first snow began to fall.

[automatismoateo]

My theology teacher failed me because she didn't like my truthful answers on the semester exam via /r/atheism

Submitted May 23, 2019 at 11:00PM by -SENDHELP- (Via reddit http://bit.ly/2WmPacH) My theology teacher failed me because she didn't like my truthful answers on the semester exam

This is going to be a LONG post, guys. It's pretty juicy tho. Names and stuff replaced with [REMOVED] for privacy.

​

My theology teacher emailed my parents and principal (sadly, I go to a private, Catholic school) and these are the contents of the email. I was pretty blunt, to be fair, but she wanted honesty and to be fair, the 9th commandment is to not lie, so what does she want me to do, bReAk tHe NiNtH cOmMaNdMeNt?

​

Mr. and Mrs. [REMOVED], I am writing you let you know that [REMOVED] made a 62.5 out of a 100 on his Theology exam, however, he could have passed had he answered his essay questions appropriately.  I know you would want to know that on the exam, students were asked to write three 500 word essays about different aspects of faith and Scripture based on concepts taught in this class.  Instead, [REMOVED] chose to write a 1500 word essay stating his opinions against every aspect of faith and Scripture that I have taught, including comparing the Bible to a book about "Mr. Rainbow Fish."  While I believe students are entitled to an opinion, I feel he has taken this too far and in a manner that is disrespectful and somewhat defiant.  I have made [REMOVED] aware, and I hope this will allow an opportunity for discussion at home.  I appreciate you support and encouragement.  Please let me know if you would like to discuss this further.   Here is the first essay that he wrote: The following should include a well-formed essay which includes at least 500 words about God's love for us as told through Scripture.  Answer all of the below questions in your essay.  The Bible is often referred to as "a love story from God."        (a)  What do we learn about real love, sacrificial love from Scripture.  Use specific examples.         (b)  How do we know we can trust the words in Scripture?  Weren't these men just fishermen?       (c)  Retell the story of Salvation History in your own words.  Your Answer:"Before writing this, I would like to make it clear that I am going to answer this question from an atheist's point of view. It is the last day in your class, and I figured at this point I might as well be completely honest about what I think about Christianity and the Bible etcetera. You probably want a certain answer, but I am going to answer honestly and with my own opinions.

A: Reading through the Bible, I do not see very many examples of true love. God apparently loves all of his creations equally, but he is perfectly fine kicking regular people out of their homes to make room for someone that he "equally" loves to move in. By this I am talking about when the Jews finished wandering in the desert for 40 years and God kicked the people living in the promised land already out. Also, let's talk about God making his people that he loves (more, apparently) walk in the desert for 40 years. In class, I've heard it explained that he did this in order to remove their egyptian ideals and gods and stuff from them so that they would trust him. He's omnipotent and omniscient, yes? He can always create the best situation possible with the least amount of harm to his creations that he loves, yes? Then why did force his people to wander in a desert for 40 years and basically just kill off (with old age) all of the ones that remembered things about egypt and still thought that thosegods might be real? Why couldn't he just wipe their memories, or something? He's God. He can do it. I've heard the excuse that it removes their free will, too. I don't believe that. If that's removing their free will, then forcing them to wander in the desert instead of letting them make their own decisions and forcing them to live in the "promised land" instead of letting them make their own decisions is removal of free will, too- much more so, in fact. There are endless situations just like this one in the Bible that make me doubt that God knows much about real love.

B: That's the thing actually. You can't trust the word in scripture. "well that's stupid, of course we can! It was written by God!" is probably what your immediate response to that statement was. That's the thing though: how do you know that it was God/ the holy spirit that inspired it? "Because it says so in the Bible" Is probably your answer for that one. Basically, this means that you read a book, the book says that it was written by God, therefore God wrote it and everything in it is undeniably true. Let's try a hypothetical situation, shall we? An archaeologist 2000 years in the future finds a book inside of a house that he dug up. He sees that it is titles "Mr. Rainbow Fish's Undeniable Guide to Get to the True Fish Tank" and opens it up to read it. He reads everything in it, the story of Mr. Rainbow Fish, what he did for his people, and what the archaeologist himselfhas to to in order to get to the True Fish Tank. The book also states that it was written by Mr. Rainbow Fish. The archaeologist sees this and thinks "everything in there must be true! Fish really must be intelligent and created people to be like guinea pigs in an experiment on earth! We have to worship the fish otherwise we won't find our way to the True Fish Tank!" He goes back home and tells all of his friends. Every single time he gets told that he can't trust what's written in it and it doesn't make sense anyways. His response is usually something like "Of course I can! It was written by Mr. Rainbow Fish!" His friends always ask him, "how do you know that Mr. rainbow Fish actually wrote it though?" and the response is always "because it says so right there in the book!" Do you see the similarities between the Bible and "Mr. Rainbow Fish's Undeniable Guide to Get to the True Fish Tank?" They're scarily similar. Moral of the story? Don't believe everything that you read. Things that affect your entire life and that you base your whole existence off of actually need proof. 

C: Salvation history. I'm guessing that you mean the whole Jesus thing, by this. Here's my retelling of it and (afterwards) an explanation about it: God saw Mary, a human, who was perfect because he made her this way (which apparently didn't affect her free will.) He sends an angel to approach her and tell her what is essentially, "My boss wants you to have his baby and there isn't really anything that you can do about it." (which apparently didn't affect her free will either) Mary basically has to agree to this happening, and gives birth to Jesus, who was father by Himself, who was ordered to Father Himself by the other Himself. I'm talking about the holy trinity, if it wasn't obvious. Jesus wanders around for a while, being human, growing up, and eventually gets older and starts a whole preaching thing. He gains a lot of followers, spreads a pretty decent message (even in my own opinion) and generally is a cool dude. Eventually though, because other people (the Jews of the time) were so wrapped up in their own religious values, they decided that it was perfectly morally right to murder someone because they said a few words that they didn't like ("I am God") or didn't relax on the sabbath. To me, neither of these things is worth murder, like, at all. But they did it anyway, and basically Jesus died for our sins, rose again, apostles spread the word, etcetera etcetera. Christians are all super thankful that he did that stuff for them, sacrificing his life and all. Except there are some serious issues with that. First of all, he didn't sacrifice his life. He was only planning on staying on Earth for a good 30 years or so anyways Even though he did die on the cross, he basically just took a 3 day long nap. Sure, it hurt being on the cross, but to him, a literal timelesscosmic being that created the universe, it was nothing and not even any real amount of time. It wasn't a sacrifice, it was just a show to make himself look good. There was no real need for Jesus to die on the cross anyways! God is all powerful, all knowing, and all other stuff etcetera. There was no actual reason for Jesus to have died on the cross when God was perfectly capable of essentially (for lack of a better metaphor) pulling a Thanos and snapping our sins away, then popping up in front of everyone globally at the same time and saying something along the lines of "Yo, dudes. I'm God, nice to meet you. I just saved your life because I removed your sins, and also you can stay with me in heaven forever and have fun and stuff. Cool, right?" It probably would have worked much better than trusting literally the most important message in the world to a few dudes who ran around the middle east trying to convince people that they weren't crazy. That leads me to my next can of worms. If the message was so important? Why just leave, like, literally every single thing that ever happened in the Bible in just the middle east? What about the other continents around the earth? What about even just the same continent but in other parts of it? According to the Bible (the church sort of says differently now, but the Bible also says you aren't allowed to give interpretive meaning- everything is literal and unchanging) those who don't worship God go to hell, even if they were unlucky enough to ever find out about him. What about the people below northern africa? What about Europe pre-Christianity-spreading-there? What about the aborigines? What about east Asian empires? What about native north americans? The list goes on and on and on. God condemned all of these people to suffer in hell for eternity just because he decided he didn't want to spread his message anywhere but the middle east.That's all for that one." *In his second essay, he refers to God as "selfish" and faith as being "all fake."  See below: The following should include a well-formed essay (which includes at least 500 words) about the early church comparing or contrasting it with your church today.  Answer all of the below questions in your essay.  (a) Why was the Temple important to the Jerusalem community after the exile? Give some of specific examples of how we know this. (b) What is the importance of worship spaces today?  Describe your church or a church where you have visited.  In what ways could you tell that this worship space is important to you or to the community.  (c) How might looking to "other gods" in our culture result in a spiritual exile from God?  How can our church building and church community help strengthen our spiritual identity?Your Answer:I've already written almost 1500 words and am tired of writing, so I'm just going to keep it simple here even if you take points off for it. Besides, these aren't as interesting to answer as the previous question anyways.

A: It was so important to them because it was a central unifying force for the Jewish people. They rebuilt it for the same reason that they stopped worshipping all of their other gods and limited it to just Yahweh (not even his wife!) You might not believe me, but look it up, it's a real thing. There is legitimate historical proof that "God" was only one of many ancient Jewish gods.

B: It's pretty much the same thing. It unifies people of said religion and is also basically a big advertisement for the religion. I don't go to church, but I've visited many and used to be forced to go to one. They all follow the same format- pews, altar, everything on it, etcetera. They were never important to me, but it was important to the people that went because it was pretty much their whole life. Even if (my personal opinion) they're wrong and it's all fake, it still matters to them.

C: God is selfish (aside from being perfect and all) and doesn't like when your life does anything but revolve completely around him (isn't that a pretty good example of limiting your free will? lol) so he will "exile" you. I can't answer that question as I don't believe in spirits, souls, etc. The answer you probably want is something like "come together, blah blah blah, etc etc"

Edit: parents are home, we haven't talked about it yet.

[canaryatlaw]

alright. so today. it went well overall I guess, I’ll get through it. My alarm went off at 8, I was out the door by 8:30, made it to school by 9:30 (it literally takes exactly an hour to get from my apartment to school, which is convenient for time planning purposes) and dropped my stuff in the PAD office and hung out for a few minutes before heading up to my exit interview at 9:45. Basically the deal is they have to collect info about job plans post-graduation for the ABA before graduation, and then again in 10 months from now. So I said I had nothing permanent lined up at the moment, but had some opportunities that could lead somewhere. I mentioned the tech company and he was like “oh yeah, I’m actually familiar with them” and he said he’s found a lot of public interest students actually go on to work with regulations and they end up really liking it, so I found that encouraging because my greatest worry about that job would be that I’d hate it. And they wanted to make sure we know we could hit them up for help with jobs at any point in the future, so that was nice. I got a little yellow paper slip stating I completed my exit interview so I can pick up my cap and gown next week (nice little incentivizing there on their part) and then I was done. I went back to the PAD office to grab my laptop and headed over to the library to get some printing done. We always got like, $75 dollars or something each semester in printing credit, when it’s like 10 cents a page, and I knew I had a lot of money left so I thought printing this 94 page outline would spend most of it- nope, I still had $190 left in my printing account. Shame I can’t repurpose that money, but oh well. I printed the outline, used the 3 hole punch (they have the super heavy duty one that can do like 50 pages at a time) then headed back to the PAD office, where I spent a while integrating the outline with the case briefs I had already printed out, because the outline was almost entirely case briefs, so I would find where a case was in my case briefs, then put where it was in the outline as the next page. I think it worked pretty well, it made it a little harder to flip through, but it was definitely easier then having to flip back and forth between the two of them. and yeah, I more or less killed time after that until around noon, where I went to the little market place that moved in next door to the school where I’d been getting salads from, but they had Italian food on their hot bar today, and well, needless to say I did not get a salad. Opted instead for cheesy garlic bread (YUM) and stuffed shells. I was a little disappointed in the stuffed shells because the filling was a bit too salty for my taste, but I still definitely enjoyed them. At 1 I headed upstairs to where my final was gonna be held starting at 1:30. People were milling in and out, trying to set things up and such. We can do the tests on our computers, but we have to use this exam software that shuts down every other application on your computer so you can’t leave the actual test. But yeah, we get ready, I’m feeling pretty good, and when the time comes we start. It was all essays, which is like, what I’m best at, so that was good, except I apparently really fucked myself over because I forgot to print out the cases that were posted on the class website and not in the book, and guess what? Literally all of the cases brought up in the test questions were ones from the website. every. single. one. And I was basically like, well fuck, but there’s not much I can do about it now, and I at least still have the case briefs on them, so we’ll work from those. I did almost have a heart attack for like 30 seconds because there were two cases we read that started with the same plaintiff name (and it was like, a long title) and I accidentally was looking at the wrong one first, but then I realized it was the other one and it wasn’t in the book and for a minute I thought I had no case briefs or anything on the case and I was legit going to drop dead on the spot, I was so stressed. I briefly considered just writing a note at the top of my answer like “so I didn’t have any information on this case, so I’m answering the question based on the other case with this plaintiff” because I feel like my prof would be the type to basically be like okay cool and grade it from there, probably with some point penalty, but he wouldn't just write it off completely. But thankfully I was able to find the case briefs on the case and managed to write a semi-decent essay, it was hard because I didn’t have many details to go off of, so that was kind of rough. The second question was somewhat more in my wheelhouse, it didn’t involve a specific case but instead a hypo and what claims could be brought from that, so that was easy for me to analyze and draw a case comparison to. One part was like “list any other alternate claims she might be able to bring” which is of course a big give away that there are other claims, and I picked up that in a “throwaway” line in the prompt it dropped that they received federal funding, which made them liable under Title VI as well as Title VII, so I felt good about spotting that. This was also the question about retaliation, which is what I know really well from real life experiences, so that was definitely my strongest answer. Questions 3 and 4 were shorter, worth half as much as 1 and 2. I didn’t have the cases they were based on, so my answer to question 3 was kinda short but I was able to extrapolate a fairly good answer for question 4. I finished up at 4, so with half an hour left. I started editing, and I knew I wasn’t happy with the case illustration I used for the first question, so I went back and found a more analogous case that I was much more satisfied with. So I checked it over again and then I was done. I was kinda irritated because I knew I could’ve done better had I been fully prepared, but at the same time I knew they were still solid answers, I may just get an A- instead of an A (which will drive me nuts, but it’s not like it really matters at this point). So I turned it in, left the classroom and legit dumped my 150 pages of outline and case briefs in the recycling bin they have in the hallway lol because I had no use for it anymore and didn't want to carry the extra weight home. So I started the trip home. it was raining when I left the loop, but by the time I got off the train it was more of a light drizzle so it was already for my walk the rest of the way home. I stopped at the ice cream shop and got a scoop of cotton candy ice cream (I love that shit) in a sugar cone, then kept heading home. Upon getting home I just dropped everything and laid on my bed for like, 10 minutes, which felt very good lol. I didn't want to do any more studying for the day because I was pretty academically exhausted, so I sat in the living room/den (whatever we’re calling it) and watched more of A Series of Unfortunate Events before Riverdale was on, simply because I really didn’t have anything else to watch, not that I’ve particularly been enjoying it. At 7 I turned on Riverdale, and I really don’t know why I keep watching this dumb show, it’s so overdramatic and ridiculous, and yet it is somehow enjoyable. After that episode I had an hour to kill before Designated Survivor was on, and I had asked for comedy suggestions on twitter, so I turned on The Good Place and watched two episodes of that, which was highly enjoyable. Designated Survivor.....wasn’t my favorite episode. I’m VERY glad my girl Andrea is not the traitor here who’s gonna be brought up on like, international treason charges for obvious reasons because I really thought that that was where they were going with it, but then I was still sad when they basically wrote her off anyway. As far as the main plot, I am so over Michael J Fox and his literally one character he can play, like legit his role on this show is the same. exact. thing. as his role on The Good Wife, and he was annoying AF there and is still annoying AF here. Idk why they feel the need to keep bringing him back. It was nice at least to see him get humbled a bit in the end there though. Then there’s Hannah, my girl!!! What was going on with the ladies tonight, are we losing Andrea and Hannah in the same episode??? Like what the hell is going on with that??? I very much hope that both of them return at some point. After the show I watched the news for a little bit, then started getting ready for bed and now here I am. Tomorrow I have PT at 12:30, then probably studying for either Remedies or attempting to teach myself the entire Secured Transactions curriculum over the next week, which sounds ridiculous for sure but I am fairly confident I can actually do it, did it first year with property and last semester with bus orgs, so 🤷🏻‍♀️ I’m not really concerned. So yeah, we’ll see how that goes. It’s almost 1 am so I guess I should bit you all goodnight for the time being. Goodnight babes. Stay wonderful. 

[meanwhileinoz]

Students Shared The Most Frustrating Moments Where Teachers Graded Them Ridiculously

Scoring well on an exam can be very stressful for everybody.

Burning the midnight oil and studying the textbook inside and out, just to get that perfect score. What sucks the most is when the all-nighters become completely useless because you don’t score well on the exam. Even worse if the reason you didn’t score well on the exam is the teacher’s “out of this world” grading scheme. It just leaves you scratching your head in surprise. There are all sorts of valid reasons why you may not agree with the given grade. And all you want to do is storm to your teacher’s office for justice!

Here are a few of the most frustrating stories of students where teachers graded them ridiculously:

1. This teacher who completely missed out the point of education.

“I had a history teacher who wanted our test answers to be EXACTLY like the textbook.

I know it’s history, you can’t change facts or names, but this woman would not even let us change the grammatical format of the sentence.

For example, if the sentence was ‘he ruled from 1822 to 1840,’ and I wrote ‘his rule lasted from 1822 to 1840,’ she would deduct marks for that. Are you kidding me?

Moreover, if someone tried to argue, she’d deduct their marks for arguing with her. She was a senior teacher and was respected by everyone in school, so we students were really scared to complain. As a result, we had no choice but to mug up each and every word of the text if we wanted to pass!”

– Mahenoor Khan

2. This just leaves us to one question – Is that even a legit scoring system?

“In college I had a Physical Education teacher who on his tests had multiple choice questions where there could be more than one right answer.

If there were five possible choices, then the answer could be that all five may need to be marked, or none of them, or any combination in-between. Each question was worth 1 point, but if you marked all of the options incorrectly you would lose 5 points. Put another way, a twenty-question test was worth 20 points, but you could get very easily receive a negative score, going all the way up to -80%. Since 80% was the required score to pass, this meant that you needed a score of 16, so you could mark no more than 4 options wrong on the entire quiz.

I tried to point out to him that his multiple choice questions were really a set of five “true or false” questions where we had to get all of them right in order to score a single point. Thus, it would make way more sense for each option to be a separate question, meaning it would be a 100-question test worth 100 points, but he just couldn’t see it. He was really good friends with one of my math professors so I had my math professor try to explain it to him with the same result.

Fortunately the test was easy enough that most people were able to figure it out, but for some getting 96% right was virtually impossible. For me it was the whole principle of the thing.”

– Carl E. Zimmerman

3. Perhaps, it’s time to contact the wizards and hobbits.

“It was 10th and 11th Grade English. I had a teacher who was… unconventional. She was simultaneously loved and hated for her antics, wildly inappropriate stories, and oddness.

Unlike most English teachers, In terms of grading, she despised written exams; I remember once she had us do a 2-day written exam about a collection of stories we read, and the next week she came back and said, “Everyone gets an A because my neck hurts from reading all these papers.”

So she mostly stuck to the old multiple choice for her tests. Until she got this ‘fun’ idea.

Both years it was the same deal: the school curriculum said she had to teach us The Great Gatsby and Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar, so she’d start the year off having us read various classic books and plays. But here’s the thing: she wasn’t a huge fan of the curriculum. So invariably, halfway through the year (oftentimes in the midst of reading some required book) she’d decide to throw the curriculum out the window and have us read (then watch) J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit and watch Lord of the Rings. And just as she threw out the curriculum, so too did she throw out conventional exams.”

– Austin R. Justice

4. At least she was straight up about it.

“I went to an alternative school where your homework for the semester was to write two-page essays on five or six topics.

After you finished your essays, you would take an essay exam that was based on whatever you wrote in your essays. Your grade in the class was entirely determined by that exam.

If you got less than a 90 on the exam, you were allowed to retake it (up to three times). If you got less than a 70 on the exam, you were forced to retake it.

Your exam grade was based on the number of sentences you wrote. A ‘C’ student would write four sentences for each question, a ‘B’ student would write six sentences, and an ‘A’ student would write eight sentences. The teacher told us this in advance.

This was how the grading worked for every class (except math, where the exams were computation-based). For PE classes, we had to write an essay, and take an exam on, the history and rules of the sport.

Honestly, I couldn’t wait to get out of there.”

– Jessica Su

5. Bet you’ve never heard of this before.

“My teacher in sixth grade ended the year with a project that had a big impact on our grade. She decided that instead of a normal grading scale, she would grade us on her own scale and tell us what the equivalent letter grade would be. In her scheme, 75 and above would receive an ‘A,’ 60 and above a ‘B,’ something like that.

The only problem was that she still put those number grades directly into the school’s standard grade book (where a 70-80 was a B), so a student who she said got an ‘A’ with 75 would get a B in their official grades!

When I pointed this out and explained the problem, her reply was, ‘Oh, so that’s why students who have done well on the project in previous years  have had their grades drop.’

I don’t know how many years she’d been using this system for, but hopefully it ended with us.”

– Tyler Buchman

6. It leaves us wondering….

“I had a professor in 1973 who had a strange grading system, but one that we all understood. He had a lecture class with hundreds of students, and he had TA’s (graduate student teaching assistants) who graded the exams.

Unfortunately, with essay tests, different TA’s graded slightly differently, so it was possible for two people to give substantially the same answer yet get slightly different scores.

The teacher, though, had a unique solution. If you came up with your friend’s test and showed him that you should have gotten five more points on one answer, he would mark your friend’s test down that five points.

Since he told all of us that was his solution on the first day, nobody complained.

I might add that his grades were generous on average. I was getting a ‘C’ in his class, but probably didn’t deserve it. He ended up giving me a ‘B’ because I demonstrated my knowledge of the subject in verbal conversations with him. I was just lousy at writing essay answers. Nowadays, I’d do better, but we couldn’t use computers back then.”

– Dave Williamson

7. Is this a part of the test?

“This happened with my brother when he was writing an exam.

Before he began, the teacher placed a book in front of everyone’s desk and said, ‘In this book are the answers to your test.’

My brother was flabbergasted. What was going on? He was GIVING away the answers to the test.

Now, my brother is incredibly smart. And has a sense of honor. The test had two possible solutions, one being detailed in the book.  He decided to use his wits, and solve the test the second way, instead of taking the easy route. He solved it successfully without the book.

Two weeks later, everyone got back their results. 60% for all students.

That was the teachers last month at that college. Maybe he wanted to be remembered for messing with his students one final time. Or saving them, for those who didn’t study.”

– Daniel Bauwens

8. I would like to meet this guy.

“I had a College level Theology class where our final examination was worth 95% of our grade and consisted of showing up and finger painting for an hour.

This occurred during my Freshman year at Southern Illinois University. The only class that properly fit into my schedule was a pan-religion theology course taught by a very eccentric hipster teaching assistant in his mid 20’s. He looked sort of like Hagrid from the Harry Potter novels.

This teaching assistant was not a fan of the ‘system,’ or ‘the man.’ In his class we learned such valuable things as conspiracy theories and the salary of our school administrators. If the weather was bearable we’d have class outside.

Anyhow, due to budget cuts the University was considering cutting quite a few majors and classes.”

There’s more….

“The pan-religious theology course was on the chopping block and my professor had a bone to pick with the administrators. He would attend all of their meetings and lobby in favor of the existence of the courses he taught. During one such meeting, apparently a school administrator said to our teacher’s face that the school needed to generate revenue and classes that taught ‘finger painting’ like his would be the first to go. Ouch.

I think our teacher sensed that his days at the University were numbered. However he still had our class and the course’s grading policy was entirely at his discretion. As a parting gesture of defiance he announced that our final would consist of a fun finger painting hour. We all showed up for the final, paints were passed out, and we took our examination. I painted a scenic picture of a sailboat in the ocean. For this I received three college credits and an A+ in pan-religious theology.”

Michael Jones

9. I’m going to duck you marks for that.

“In my freshman year, we had a single class that combined History with English, and had a teacher for each respective subject. They decided together that they would grade us with ducks.

Allow me to explain. They had a 4×4 chart where the leftmost top duck was the happiest and the rightmost bottom duck was the saddest. For every assignment, you received a different ‘duck grade.’

Though strange, this does seem fine in principle as you would think you could still tell around where your grade would be. However, it didn’t really work out that way…

Despite many people getting a majority of leftmost top ducks (including me), only one person in our 40 ish student class actually got an A first semester, so the system proved to be a bit misleading.

When I went in talk to the teachers, along with others in the same confusing situation, we all got the same response. They told us what to work on for next semester, and wouldn’t address the confusion. So, we all tried to do better second semester, and a few did, but the system still felt unjustified to many in my class.

I hope they don’t still do this. Many in my class thought they did this on the basis of favoritism or something discriminatory, though I just think it was a flawed system. If we must have grades, they should just be the straight forward traditional kind that keep everyone satisfied, at least to know the truth.”

– Murphy Rodriguez

10. The perks of studying mineralogy .

“I had a mineralogy professor at Michigan Technological University in 2000 who was a character. He was a grizzled-looking guy in his sixties, bald-headed and with an unkempt gray beard. He was a smart man and a nice guy, but a difficult teacher.

Anyway, I was doing ok in the class. Not great, but alright. I had an 83%. Almost a B, probably a BC under Michigan Tech’s weird grading scale (a BC being half way between B and a C, like a combined B-/C+). There were students from two very different departments in the same class, each comprising around 50% of the class. Half were geologists, of which I was one. The other half were mining engineers.

No one had an easy time in the class, but the mining engineers really struggled badly. As the professor explained at the end of the semester, he was faced with a grading dilemma.

‘All of the geology students have grades between 96% and 83%. All of the mining engineers have grades between 60% and 18%, with a mean around 32%. If I leave the grade scale as it stands now, all of the geologists will pass and every last mining engineer will fail.”

That’s not where it ends….

“My professor went on: ‘I can’t just fail an entire department, though. If I slide the grading curve down the scale to pass most of the mining engineers, then every geology student will get an A and that will raise alarms with the school. Instead, the only fair thing I can think of is to expand the bell curve.

And that’s what he did. An A was 100–96%, an AB was 95–92%, a B was 91–88%, a BC was 87–84%, a C was 83–28%, a CD was 28 to zilch.

I got the short end of the stick. Not only was my grade lowered from a BC or maybe even a B down to a C, but I ended up with the same grade as people who had originally earned a fraction of mine. In what world does a person with an 83% get the same grade as someone with a 28% in a class? Well, in mineralogy at Michigan Tech in Fall of 2000. Kind of a poor incentive for hard work.

I didn’t complain in an official capacity because the professor has the right to choose a grading scale for his/her class and, by his chosen scale, I got the grade I deserved. Hasn’t stopped me from complaining about it almost two decades later, though!”

– Craig McClarren

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