Monday, December 21, 2009

One Day At A Time

A professor of mine, the one that I dropped out of his class, wrote to me and said he didn't think a "B" would hurt me getting into med school. I don't think he understands that generally speaking, an 89.5% in ANY class is at least an A-, NOT a B or "maybe" a B+.

I also think that while he is understanding that it may not hurt another undergrad who has NO degree in hand (or life experience) probably doesn't care about the one "B" on the transcript. For the most part, I'd have to agree with him, except when trying to think of how I'd explain to an admission committee:


On my fall semester transcript. Really? You dropped two classes and all you could manage was a "B"? It's not the "B" per se, it is the drive killer. I am missing it at the moment.

I dropped out. I felt a little relieved. Then I got an email from someone I've known since I was 15. He was my first boyfriend. We've kept in touch for 30 years - through his marriage, his two kids, his career, my son, my boyfriends, my life. At one point, I wrote a rather lengthy novel based on our dreams as individuals (he wanted to be PoTUS, I wanted to be... wait for it...

a cancer doc).

Anyway, he asked how my final went. I said it was fine. Then he read here and wrote:

"I think you are crazy to drop out of school."

D'Artagnan (my dad's nickname for him), once again, to the point and honest. I told him one day at a time right now; he told me to chuck up and be a man. haha, not up for THAT surgery.

We'll see... my classes are still open, just got an inkling for a job on weekends so that I'm not so distracted during the week trying to work on campus, my house is stabilized, my son is doing okay. One day at a time. Today? I don't know yet.

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