5th Grade Science Class

For the duration of my high school years I have had my fair share of bad grades, just as any student has. An “F” on a vocabulary test, “D” on a math quiz, or even getting a “C” on my midterm exams is all failures to me. I will be the first to admit that I have never been the top- ranked 4.0 student, but getting a

I closed my eyes in disbelief. I refreshed the page. I thought Ms. Platt had attached another student’s rubric to my essay. I wanted the nightmare to end. Not only did I not receive an “A” or a “B,” but a “C-.” I earned a seventy percent. My eyes watered, and I began to feel nauseous. I felt as if I failed myself and my family. This grade was not supposed to be possible. In the words of Grendel, it was an accident. But unfortunately, it was not. At that moment, I had to accept, even if I did not want to, that I, for once, did not reach my high goals or had to surrender my unrealistic view of myself. I had erred, like all humans do, and learned that I was not perfect and that I could fail to reach my standards. At that moment, I realized that I wasn’t superhuman but human, and this was something challenging for me to cope with at the time. However, in discovering my ability to fail, my perception of myself had been revolutionized.

The next day, as promised, she handed out a short pop quiz. It was not as challenging as she tried to make it sound. It presented only five multiple choice questions on it. Once we finished our quizzes, she told us to read the next chapter silently. Once I finished my quiz at the speed of light, I decided to finish other homework, since I preferred to read at home anyway. So while the rest of my class was reading, I worked on homework. Thirty minutes later, I completely finished all of my other assignments, so I decided to start reading the chapter. After nearly two paragraphs in, my teacher interrupted the class to see if everyone finished reading the chapter. Unknown to me, the chapter was fairly short and everyone, but me, finished it. Raising my hand slowly, I told her that I had not finished reading. Everyone in my class turned around and stared at me. The teacher asked me how far I was in the chapter and how much time I needed to

My earliest advice I wish to bestow on other students is never to let a low score discourage you. I recall, I sometimes felt disappointed as well as devasted after receiving a low grade. As a result, my performance in each of my classes began to decline; however, my outlook on his started to shift when I realized instead of being discouraged about each

The teacher split the class into three groups. My group went to a different classroom with a different teacher. The wall of window allowed the bright sun to bleed into the room. The teacher has a military background that she shared with the class. She said that this is the Advance class. I was baffled what she had said. Secretly, I look around the class and saw that all the smart kids were in here. She had us look at ink plots to teach us to see differently and to describe the image we see. After that exercise, she said that we were not going to write a paper, but we were going to have a debate instead. The debate was on genetic modification. Anxiety and enjoyment both crept into my mind after she said that. The weeks up ahead were tough, but insightful at the same

I hate writing tests! It’s as simple as that. I hate the feel of a rough pen on my soft, delicate hands, which have vanquished after putting up a hard fight. I hate my brain desperately struggling to recollect information, from the inadequate study period from the previous night. Most of all, I hate the collecting of the results of an inevitable failure, doomed to face me at the end. Looking back at this picture, of me writing that unbearable test, I remember. I remember a feeling reassembling itself to me in tiny fragments, one by one, and for a brief moment, so microscopic it cannot be measured in time, my heart skips a beat. Then, and then alone I am brought back to that room, to that desk, to that test, and all I feel is hate.

I vividly remember sitting in the biology classroom, taking my time with the exam and trusting that all of the answers would pop into my brain. I hadn’t even finished the test when I could hear the bell ring to signal the end of the class. Panicking, my pencil dashed to fill in answers that I hadn’t been able to complete while I requested extra time after school to finish the test. My teacher was not the type to grant extra time, and I reluctantly handed her the atrocity that was my first test. I believed that I was doomed for the rest of the year.

As she was telling me her story, I recalled something that happened to me in middle school. In 6th grade, I used to be a very careless student who wouldn’t really care about anything that happens during school. Even though I was very careless about school work and my grades, I at least did my work just enough to get a passing grade. My parents never checked my report card, but they always said things like, “We didn’t have the opportunities you have right now,” or “Hope you are working hard enough and getting good grades so that you have a better future than we do.”

Then in sixth grade I got a chance to test for PA math. I took it fortunately and practiced so hard. I felt confident after taking the test and got full marks. After the test I topped my class again. But it was at that moment when I got the letter, my entire world changed. One night in April, my letter had come in the mail. Then I went straight to my parents and let them open it. When my mother opened it she started to cry, tears of joy. My dad read it as well and gave my the biggest bear hug. My mom said “I knew you could do it.” I was so confident at that point. One of friends, who told me

“Achieving a goal is nothing. The getting there is everything” (Jules Michelet ) and it could not be more true. As my high school career slowly comes to an end, I have started to realize that I must take the next big step in my life which is furthering my education and one day having a family of my own. During all my 13 years of school, I have specifically made sure to try my absolute best in school. And yes, even though high school classes are more difficult, that has not stopped me from working hard towards good grades. Science has been one of the most difficult sections of classes I’ve had. I find it intriguing, but it has been a challenge to learn it. Yet, I did not quit, and I managed to achieve decent grades.

I was perched on the edge of my chair. My stomach was in knots; I had to keep telling myself not to restlessly bounce my legs. I watched my teacher weaving his way between the tables, giving each student back their test. I was sitting in the back of the classroom, just waiting for him to reach my table. Upper-classmen had said that Molecular Cell Biology is the toughest biology class at the Illinois Math and Science Academy. Yet I had flown through the test, encountering no problems along the way. My teacher had finally made his way back to my table. He laid my test face down on the table in front of me. I almost did not want to flip the test over but with a quick flip of my wrist, the test lay face up. The top of the test said 18 out of 30; I had failed.

While sitting on the ground in our living room watching Disney channel, I heard the front door open and close, and then the shuffling of shoes across the hall. As I turned off the TV and peered around the corner, I saw my brother just getting home from school. Before he had the chance to put down his backpack, our mother appeared from the stairs and asked him, “How was that physics test? Did you remember everything you learned last night?” I saw him look down at his feet, twiddling his thumbs. Within seconds, our mother was infuriated and scolded, “This is what happens when you procrastinate and don’t do homework until the day before the test. Your father and I pulled an all-nighter with you in hopes that you would learn and actually understand the information. Start focusing on school, and less on your video games! You need to do your homework!” With that, our mother shook her head and walked back up the stairs.

It was early May 2016 and I was anxiously sitting in my H period Geometry class. I was awaiting the results of a huge test, our last of the year in the class, that would play an enormous role in my semester average as I was at that dreaded area between an 89 and 90 in the class. It had been a mixed year for me in math, as it always is, I never can consistently do well in math or science classes, but I had studied for hours on end for the test and was extremely hopeful. I had tried every practice test that the teacher recommended, went over every quiz from the unit and had focused on nothing but this test for the past week. I usually don’t let grades put me down or affect my mood, but with this test I knew it would ruin my day if I did not

Part 2: I won't write the whole thing for you, but I'll give you some ideas.

I whole heartedly agree with Kurt Wiesenfeds statements and arguments. In no way shape or form should a professor ever be responsible for the student’s wellbeing. He or she (professors) should certainly not alter a grade for the great or good of the student because doing so creates mediocrity and a weekend structure in our society. Perhaps the professor being as lenient as they supposedly are is the reason to blame for the society in which we live in today. College level and university level classes can be passed with the utmost excellence but students would rather get by and pass rather than exhibit any form of extra effort; I know this because I am guilty of it. Hopefully professors from around the world reads Wisenfeds entry