I keep checking the board’s website. I got the same grade this time that I did the first time. I keep thinking maybe that’s my old grade. Maybe they entered it wrong. Maybe when I get the paper stuff in the mail it will have been a mistake. A bad dream.
A hope against hopes.
But I know that’s not really possible.
People who know keep telling me I’ll pass next time. Just like they said I would this time. Just like they’ll say next time if it comes to it. And it won’t be helpful or reassuring then either.
I think though that the worst part of failing something and having everyone know that the results are due around Christmas is that whenever I go anywhere, I know at least one person will ask “So, do you know you’re grade yet?” And then they will drown in my tears. That’s not murder is it? Involuntary manslaughter? I’m not ready to face that situation. I’m having trouble holding the tears back as it is, and normally I can stone face anything.
When I was in school, I had one class I had to Q drop. One. I’m not generally a quitter, and I waited until the very last second to do it, because I was holding out hope that things would get better. The day I did it I felt like everyone who looked at me saw a giant Q on my forehead. Like a scarlet letter. In hindsight, it was a good decision, but I remember the feeling, the feeling like I was a failure for not having been able to stick it out.
I haven’t decided what letter I feel like I’m sporting now. L or F. It doesn’t matter I guess. My balloon is already deflated. Maybe people can see me dragging my dead carcass of a balloon behind me.
And no, I still don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to talk about how I can do better next time. I don’t want to talk about what my plan of action should be. I don’t want to talk about how bad I felt that day and how that’s a good excuse for my ineptitude. I want to sit around with my tear stained face and mope. And eat ice cream.
I can’t really be mad at anyone in particular. Except myself. I am so disappointed in myself.