The Spot

I remember my first encounter with Academic BS. It was in my grade 8 year at Malcolm Munroe. Social studies winter exam. The question: “What year did the french government institutionalize ‘les filles du roi’?” My answer: an extended rant on women’s rights with special reference to the 18th century. The reason: I had no idea as to specific year in question. I hadn’t studied. The result: 105% on the exam, with a little note in the upper right corner “this answer is consistent with that of a university student.”
Ah, Academic BS. I am both thankful and resentful. I just got back my first paper in Film Noir. An incomprehensible A.
I remember this paper. I had two papers due that week, both of which were supposed to be written on the weekend. I was a wreck that weekend! These papers are crap!
I’m angry because these marks shake my faith in the system. I mean, I worked hard on this paper, but only because I was such a mess. It wasn’t by any means quality. Not by my standards, anyway. But I got one of 10 A’s in my class. The average was B-. It’s madness!
No, I’m seriously pissed. When I think of all those times I’ve poured hours of thought and planning into B + papers... what’s the lesson? Nothing matters! There is no good and evil, no hard work and slacking, no beauty and ugliness.
/me’s head explodes.
0 comments

Graphics and design by Ann Stretton ©2001