I just turned in my grades for the college classes I teach. I’m also seriously considering appealing my own grade in Survey of Biology I. The grade was a C. I received it in my first college class. Forty years ago.
To be sure, I should have moved on by now. When I arrived for the midterm in only my seventh week on campus, having just turned 18, I walked to the front of the auditorium and thought I’d be given my exam. I extended my arm up to the professor, perched behind the podium. He looked down, shook his head as if to say no, and then gave me a zero for being two minutes late.
I have thought about this grade over the decades, which is a strange thing to spend so much time on. Since it happened, I’ve had a whole life, one might say, and I have lots of moments when I’m happy in between the time I think about my grade. I can really listen to the kids when they talk to me about their days, and I tell funny stories to my own students, who are about the same age. At least I think they’re funny. I’m quite happy when I spend time with Whiskey, though I’ve learned to add that it’s the name of our dog. But my attention span is getting shorter every year, and while I blame YouTube for it, the fact is I find myself circling back to 1984. And that grade.
I know life is unfair, but c’mon, a zero is a ridiculous score for being two minutes late to a midterm. No one had finished the exam in two minutes, so there were no questions or answers to share with me. And the final exam was later cumulative, which meant it was written to cover all of the course material anyway. So why hang a zero on me? I could add that it’s the only C I’ve ever received, but that shouldn’t matter, and it’s probably a result of generous grading in several other courses. So maybe it’s been an even life in that way.
Steps I’ve taken so far in my appeal: (1) Researched online whether there’s a form to appeal a grade (it doesn’t appear so); (2) Researched whether my appeal might be untimely, which is the lawyer in me (I see no time limits posted); and (3) Considered calling the Registrar to ask where I should direct my appeal. I’ve also considered whether my appeal should explain that I have accepted lots of late submissions from students over the years. But that doesn’t strike me as relevant, and not taking late work might be a touch inconsistent.
I have been accused of living in the past in general. I’m a sucker for the photo stories my phone sends me that show our family laughing on trips and at dinners. I think I took those pictures knowing what was headed my way: pacing the house at night, long after my wife has gone to bed, texting the kids and asking them for proof of life. I think I knew that once I got older and could hear the sounds this old house makes instead of the sounds of the people in it, then I would circle back and right some wrongs.
An always backward-facing life is not much of a life, but it sure feels good to win. Oh — it had not occurred to me that I might actually lose my appeal. The ruling might be that it was no injustice at all and, in fact, was the correct grade. Or even more than I deserved, though it’s hard to get less than a zero. And if I were to lose my appeal, then it would call into question all of the time I’ve spent over the years rehashing and rethinking and reliving. A loss would be worse than what I have now: the excitement that if I did appeal, I might win.
Tough one. I can move on in life. But we’re not talking about being cut off in traffic. A transcript is permanent, and it’s stored on my computer, only a few clicks away. Now Whiskey is staring at me because I’m just a few minutes late for our walk, and I’m convinced she can tell time.
Where was she when I needed her, 40 years ago?
Robert Kearney lives in Bloomington, Illinois.