Gnarly Grape #2
My coming of age moment was not a certain age, nor a certain achievement. I realized that I was no longer a child when I learned to game the system and delve into obscure rules and technicalities.
In 6th grade, I was naïve and decided to take Drama. In this class, to my horror, I soon found out that 30% of the grade would be decided based upon a name test. Many in the class were ecstatic at what was meant to be a grade inflator. I was terrified, since I am truly abysmal at names, and angered, since this test had nothing to do with drama.
A child would whine and complain to the teacher. But at this time, I decided to get complex. I would whine and complain using specific citations and protocol. Boo yah! (What, you think I’d try to remember the names of the 30 people in the class that I only see once a day? Get real.)
I plunged into the highly detailed rule book. This rule book was given to everybody, and we were told to read it carefully, since we would be strictly held by its tenants. Reading it for the first time, I searched and searched until I found a passage laying out a multi-tiered appeal process for any dispute with a teacher. I was armed and ready to go.
Waiting until the end of class, I went up to the teacher and relayed my concerns about the upcoming test. As expected, I was blown off, with the teacher shocked that I would care be so concerned about the “obvious” grade inflator.
“Okay. I would like to make a Level 2 Appeal concerning this test.” I replied, using the procedure laid out in the book.
The teacher was stunned and confused. She has never heard of this before and accused me of playing games. I then whipped out my rule book that I was carrying just in case and showed the procedure I was using. Eventually, I got out of the test.
I had escaped certain failure because I knew this “mightily important rule book” more than the faculty.
My lawyer parents would be so proud.
In 6th grade, I was naïve and decided to take Drama. In this class, to my horror, I soon found out that 30% of the grade would be decided based upon a name test. Many in the class were ecstatic at what was meant to be a grade inflator. I was terrified, since I am truly abysmal at names, and angered, since this test had nothing to do with drama.
A child would whine and complain to the teacher. But at this time, I decided to get complex. I would whine and complain using specific citations and protocol. Boo yah! (What, you think I’d try to remember the names of the 30 people in the class that I only see once a day? Get real.)
I plunged into the highly detailed rule book. This rule book was given to everybody, and we were told to read it carefully, since we would be strictly held by its tenants. Reading it for the first time, I searched and searched until I found a passage laying out a multi-tiered appeal process for any dispute with a teacher. I was armed and ready to go.
Waiting until the end of class, I went up to the teacher and relayed my concerns about the upcoming test. As expected, I was blown off, with the teacher shocked that I would care be so concerned about the “obvious” grade inflator.
“Okay. I would like to make a Level 2 Appeal concerning this test.” I replied, using the procedure laid out in the book.
The teacher was stunned and confused. She has never heard of this before and accused me of playing games. I then whipped out my rule book that I was carrying just in case and showed the procedure I was using. Eventually, I got out of the test.
I had escaped certain failure because I knew this “mightily important rule book” more than the faculty.
My lawyer parents would be so proud.
posted by Anonymous at 1:41 PM
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