OY, the stress

My senior year, my last semester of college was NOT that long ago. I returned to college at the ripe old age of 41 to finish my degree, so I remember it clearly. As a matter of fact, I remember most of that insane time very clearly. I did 3 years' worth of college work in 2 years + a summer, cramming in overloaded semester after overloaded semester. Heck, 18 hours was nothing unusual for me. I took 21 hours one semester so I could graduate as soon as possible.

My major was history; my minor art history. Both subjects are reading and writing intensive, to say the least. I read constantly; I wrote almost constantly. Yet, I never came down to the wire with grades at stake. (Well, actually once, I did, but that's a whole 'nuther story about a crazy prof....) I knew, going into finals' week, where I stood. And I pretty much knew what I would get in every class I was taking.

How was this possible?? Because I banked points during the semester, so that my grade would not depend on the final test or paper. More than once, all I really needed to do was show up for the final and give a half-ass effort, and I could walk away with a B. However, I'm a little anal about grades, and for me, anything less than an A might as well be failing. Yes, it's a sickness, and yes, it's hard living that way, but it is how I is.

So you can imagine my stress as I sit here and watch my son, the senior poli sci student, slogging thru take home finals and studying for in-class exams while pausing every so often to re-run yet another GPA scenario. . . .