By Bridget Fekety
Tis’ the season! It’s time for midterms!
Like most of my other sorry peers, I’ve been going through the trenches this academic season. Recently I finished my last midterm and despite being scarred for life and missing multiple limbs, all I can say is: we made it Joe! And that’s all that matters.
But did we really make it?
It truly is the giving season when it comes to midterms. Depression is a popular gift, a lower gpa is almost certainly a given, and the classroom is sure to be showered with A’s and D’s galore.
I, in past years, have received all of the above, however this year I had a different plan. This year I would be like the grinch—going about whatever means I could to get what I wanted: an A in CompSci.
My plan was masterful. I cheated. And it worked out great! Or so I thought…
When I got that long-awaited midterm grade back, I was disappointed to see that I did not, in fact, get an A on the exam. No—I got an F.
At that moment I realized cheating wouldn’t do me much good. Granted, I never learned how to read. Crickey! Now it was too late! How was I ever supposed to continue with CompSci now?
The solution? I didn’t. I dropped that bitch like everyone else. Who would spend another minute in that class anyways? Hey—at least I was efficient.