Getting Back on the Horse

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James Duncan
Cindy Mooty
Composition 150
9 October 2013
Getting Back on the Horse
My first semester of college started off with me not caring about the ramifications of any
of my actions, let alone taking any of my classes seriously. I felt like I had senioritis in college.
In this composition class I have my best friend, who is now my roommate. Bruce and I would
show up to class, sometimes. We would just sit there and think how dumb the assignments were;
we never really took the class seriously. Displaying little respect to the professor. Soon we were
so nonchalant about it we wouldn’t even show up, we would go hangout at the mall or do
anything except go to class.
This developed into a terrible habit. We both kept up with the assignments, but never
applied ourselves or respected the professor’s effort to better us for our literate future. Bruce
doesn’t even attend college anymore so being in that class with him did not help at all since he
dropped out the semester after that. I never took that class seriously and the ramification was I
didn’t learn as much as I could. Sure I learned the structures of different writings, what rhetorical
meant. But never applied myself.
So now it’s winter break, after the fall semester. Thinking to myself “I made it, I’m free
for two weeks”. So, of course, I went back to enjoy hanging out with friends. They then started
talking about their grades. I was so irresponsible; I didn’t even check them yet. Even worse, I
didn’t care how my grades were.
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My aunt and grandma would constantly ask how school was going. Of course I always
returned with the “good” answer. How did class go today? “Good”. They would stand there and
wait for me to elaborate. But, I had nothing more to say.
I went to go check my final grades. Composition was my last class of the day, another
reason why attendance and my attention was a problem. Anyways, I was scrolling down the
page, I did great in my math class, as expected. Next, my philosophy class which had the highest
grade. Third one was chemistry, I thought “Yes! I got a B in this.” This class really challenged
me. I took it seriously because I was a math and science guy and I had an aptitude for those two
subjects. I wouldn’t settle for a bad grade in a class I was good at. Sitting there with relief and
bliss. Finally came my composition grade.
Paralyzed. I sat there just staring at the screen. All of my other classes didn’t even matter
after this glance. I was astounded. I saw the 0.0 GPA on the transcript. The screen telling me I
failed, while I was frozen. The panic set in, my head started to hurt. My whole body got hot. I
didn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe it. Never in my life did I fail a class. I was in high honors in
high school, how could this happen to me? This moment was like in “Apollo 13 ‘Houston, we’ve
got a problem.’” when something malfunctioned in the spacecraft. The astronaut’s thinking, “We
are screwed and we don’t know what to do”. I had the same feelings with my ruined GPA.
What am I going to tell my aunt and grandma? What do I tell my friends? What do I tell
my roommate? What do I reason to myself about this? All of these questions are just bulking in
my head.
My aunt and grandma finally asked one day “How were your grades this semester?” the
question I feared since the moment I saw my final grades. I replied “This isn’t high school
anymore, I am an adult. I don’t feel I have to share my grades”. That was a manipulation. They
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stood there with a blank stare. I’m sure that offended them and threw up a red flag. They
intuitively knew I didn’t do well or I would’ve just stated my grades.
I failed because of attendance. Furthermore, I failed myself because I did not take literacy
seriously that whole semester. I blew the subject off like I have my whole life, thinking it was
not necessary to be educated concerning that subject. That moment needed to happen to show me
how much composition is needed in my life. Not only to pass college but to help me become a
more literate person.
I remember passing the professor next semester she with her peppy rapport asking, “How
are you doing?” I quickly walked by said “good”, thinking’ I failed your class; I get disappointed
just seeing you. It is my fault that I failed the class. Oakland has an attendance policy, discovered
that one out the hard way. If I could go back this would have never happened, I would have
showed up to class every day and took the class very seriously. Now, I’m in composition 150,
knowing this time around the importance of literacy.
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