May school come down and hit me on the head with a peck of pickled peppers.
Yes every student suffers the shock when they go to a private uni freshman year. Some of us got off the same boat: small town and a high school of simple means. There are three times as many people on this campus than in my small town of ye olde days. My general classes are three times the size of my graduating class. And now it's not a senior citizen telling ma mère at the public library how I'm such a good cashier at the local supermarché, it's some student calling me out "Hey grill girl!"
Please don't class me as the prosaic over-achiever. I think I frustrated every teacher I ever had because they felt I had potential but I would never apply myself.
My grades at high school and uni haven't been too different. And I've never cared about grades too much. What's a grade? I'll throw your alphabet in your face. The grades aren't the problem. The regard people have for me is not the problem. I always felt the praise I received in high school was a little undeserved.
Do you know those tiny holes in bricks? I feel like I've been shoving my brain through a brick wall. Ah-ha! I'm being challenged!....?
But sometimes, I know exactly what I'm talking about. Sometimes I'm writing a paper for a film TA who doesn't care about my sentence structure or my prose (I could write a whole paper like Yoda "Good this movie is" and they wouldn't know the difference). A one page paper. A one page paper like I've written every week for the last year and a half analyzing a film. All this TA wants to know is that I got a theme out of the movie and I have points to support it. I've just got to prove I've thought. One simple process: THINKING.
I THINK therefore I AM. But I am not writing.
I'm not getting anywhere.
Ah the joy of school.