I was not a perfect student. I skipped the occasional class, coasted through a few others (hello Sociology 101), and barely passed my first-year biology class, mostly because I was distracted equally by the professor’s lisp (not a good thing for a man whose first name was Sidney) and by the huge studded leather watchband he wore, which made me wonder if in hith off hourth he didn’t cruithe around on a Harley-Davidthon.
Truth be told, mostly I coasted through college, as if to live up to what a very dear professor told me: that because it was so easy for me to get a B+ it would be very hard for me to get an A. True ‘dat. Of course, for that particular professor, I did in fact bust my ass, but mostly? I cruithed through.
Despite my bad habits and not precisely stellar grades, however, I never ever asked a professor to change my grade. I never asked for extra credit to make up for work I hadn’t done (or had done poorly). It wasn’t that I had any interest in taking responsibility for my actions: I was just too afraid to ask.
I’m here to say that college students—or at least my college students—have gotten over their fear, if in fact they ever had it. I guess we should applaud the fact that these students are able to “ask for what they need,” but sometimes what they “need” sounds startlingly similar to my own kids whining about how desperately they need more legos. Continue Reading →
