It Takes a Village
I wanted to share with you the grade I got back yesterday– the grade for my oral report.
I
have managed to get through undergrad with the barest minimum of
class-addressing. After the cry-and-vomit incident of 2005 in my
japanese class (which was the last straw after the paper-throwing
screaming-at the poet-laureate incident of 2004) I had managed to avoid
every possible situation that would require me to address a class,
except for my 30 second future-of-cystic-fibrosis group presentation in
bio lab which I got through b/c I was drunk. I have dropped classes,
interrogated students, pirated syllibi, and had long, humiliating
floor-staring conversations with professors to escape this horror.
Panic attacks suck. I will stare down psychopaths to escape public
speaking.
However, my psych research-methods class, of all
things (you’d expect psychologists to be more understanding), offered
me no leeway to escape the presentation for the experiment I had to
run. And since I need the class to graduate, there was nothing for it.
I couldn’t even take the zero, b/c then my partner would also get a
zero, and that’s just ethically abominable so I had no choice.
I
did my presentation Tuesday, and I got my grade last night. 97. I was
confronted with a task that I would rather fail than go through with,
staring down bored undergrads for 25 minutes, and I managed to get a
97. And it was all thanks to you. I haven’t forgotten you, the little
people. And I want to express my gratitude.
Debbie, thank you
for editing my slides down to the 30’s. You were right, had I done it
my way I would still be there talking, staring at the door
contemplating bolting midsentence. You’re a life-saver. Sara, thank you
for the last minute encouragement, you are a genius and I, as usual,
don’t know what I’d do without you. Thank Dave for the psychic vibes,
it’s nice not to feel crazy. Steeltrap, thank you for the
pharmaceuticals, they played a huge role in my success as I took them
in a carefully timed manner; and Brian, thank you for the concealable
bottles of vodka that I chased the pills with, hunkered down behind the
psych building praying to gods I don’t believe in that my prof didn’t
catch me there since I was actually kinda in front of his window make
screwed up I-hate-liquor faces.
Thank you all. You’re wonderful, and without you, this milestone just wouldn’t have been possible. I mean it. Thank you.
more after finals are over,
love.
