The Mark of the Beast

Well, friends, it’s 2010, and do you know what that means?  Yup, you guessed right: it’s been 17 years since Perfect Strangers went off the air. 

Sigh.

I’ve heard that if you're at a dinner party it is almost a cardinal sin to steer discussion towards any of the following: Religion, Politics and Salary.  Law school, on the other hand, would be quiet as a monastery if these topics were put behind police-tape.  A discussion of one’s grades, on the other hand, should be reserved for only those friends who have been vetted as being neither judgmental nor resentful, and even then grades should only be spoken of in the hushed tones otherwise reserved for gossip about who was doing what with whom in the coat room at Law Ball*

But, as some of you remember, last winter I (maybe foolhardedly) posted my first semester marks in the hopes of demystifying the situation.  And rather than being blackballed, a la Gob Bluth, for revealing the secrets of the ages, I was met with some really great support and commiseration.  It was, in a lot of ways, cathartic, like watching Fried Green Tomatoes or un-friending a real jerk from your Facebook Friends list.

With that in mind, I’ve decided to go ahead and do it again.  Oh yes, and since I didn’t get a chance to post last summer when I received my spring marks I will do that, too.  Consider this a double-shot of sharing.

Without any further adieu, here’s what this ginger pulled down at school in the last calendar year

Spring 2009

B

B+

B-

Fall 2009

C+

C+

B+

B-

Okay, so let’s see if you were paying attention last year: which, of these 2 semesters consisted of more 100% final exams?  If you’re thinking the one with the two brand-name orange sodas in the report then you’ve done splendidly.

Last Spring I wound up with three courses that were a combination of either group work or essays and a greatly reduced final exam.  While the pressure to perform fantastically on each exam was correspondingly diminished (especially if my term marks were swell) there was no respite from my complete inability to answer exam questions.  Luckily, it was of no great consequence.

It goes without saying that Fall 2009 was a different story.  While I had toyed with the idea last year of selecting courses based on the increased likelihood of doing better than average (read: essay courses) a good friend of mine waved the smelling salts under my nose.  “You’re paying dearly for it, and this the last time you will ever be in school,” he said, “why wouldn’t you just select the courses that are the most interesting to you, the ones from which you think you will derive the most intellectual benefit?”

I was slightly ashamed that I couldn’t come to that peace of mind on my own but I appreciated the lesson nonetheless (which is why I have, on more than one occasion, stood beneath his bedroom window with a large boom-box, blaring Peter Gabriel’s “In Your Eyes”.  Litigation is pending.)  In any event, I chose four courses that I really, truly thought would be interesting.  “100% Final Exams be damned,” I thought, in a moment of unheralded bravado (I also used my momentary confidence to ask my girlfriend to marry me.  Litigation is pending**). 

As you can see, this devil-may-care attitude translated to three below-average marks.  But those figures, while irrefutable, belie the education I received.  My two lowest marks came in two of my favourite courses, in subject areas that I believe I can and will practice in the future, with no corresponding lag in knowledge or skill.  Sure, I’ll admit that this unfettered future may be a pipe dream but for the time being I am undeterred: I don’t doubt, for a second, my interest in or my relative comprehension of these two subjects.  And I’ve come to learn that I’m happy with that.  Happy as a clam.

Now, the thought has crossed my mind: are these not just the comforting platitudes of the Underachiever?  Maybe so, but I’ve got a relatively easy fix: have children and live vicariously through them, demanding perfection where I, myself, never found it.  Save enough money for group therapy and a daily cocktail of mood-enhancers and, voila, problem-solved.  How’s that for under-achieving?

Of course, I jest.  The kids would be expected to pay for their own therapy.

Really, though, I want to illustrate one point: I am likely going to leave Western Law with a checkered academic record, sure.  But on the other hand, I’m going to be fine in the working world, maybe even better than fine if I’m lucky, and before long the three hours I spent defiling Labour Law will be ancient history. 

Ancient history, of course, unless I decide to re-read these posts in the future (which is almost certain, considering how much in love I am with the sound of my own narrative voice).

So, folks, do with that information what you will.  Repeat it, laugh at it, remix it, whatevs.

On one final note, though, the discussion of marks got me thinking: isn’t the current marking model (A through D, and then F) getting a little tired and busted?  What if, instead of these arbitrary “letter grades” we actually assigned “Marks”.  That’s right, your academic performance would correspond to one of 5 real-life “Marks” ranging from exceptional to, well, Taco Bell meat.

For instance, the mark formerly known as “A” would now be represented by someone rad and exceptional, like Mark Twain, the American author and all-around sharp-tongued badass.

On the other end of the spectrum, replacing the grade that academia has boringly referred to for decades as “F”, you would use someone really lame, like Mark David Chapman, the dinkus that shot John Lennon.   

Anyway, you get the idea.  And, Admin, if you’re reading (ha, if... OF COURSE you’re reading!), feel free to take this idea and run with it.  Obviously, we may disagree on precisely which “Marks” should be included, but here’s my suggested grading system, from high to low (with optional comments for each).

(A) MARK TWAIN

Your work shows great disdain for fools and will be revered for generations to come.  If your moustache is better than this one you get an A+ (this goes for both men and women.  Western is committed to both diversity AND equality) 

(B) MARK LINN-BAKER

I reluctantly took in my distant cousin after he came to America from his native Mypos.  While things weren't always "perfect" we did pretty well for ourselves.  Kind of like your work.  Do the Dance of Joy while humming "Nothing's Gonna Stop Me Now".

(C) MARK PAUL GOSSELAAR

Academically, you're average at best, but that shouldn't stand in the way of your dreams; namely, creatively and habitually ducking out of detention, hooking your friends up with fake IDs so that you can party at The Attic, taking brief romantic detours with Jesse Spano, Lisa Turtle, Stacey Carosi and even Tori Scott (the weird Kelly/Jesse/Polkaroo hybrid that was only at Bayside for part of your senior year), before finally marrying Kelly Kapowski in Las Vegas, effectively ruining 12-year-old Chris Crighton's life. Just a heads up: Don't go to college.  It'll end weirdly.

(D) MARK ZUCKERBERG

Maybe if you spent less time invading everyone's privacy you would have done better at school.  P.s. I still use Myspace.

(F) MARK DAVID CHAPMAN

 
Your work is so awful that it might as well have shot a Beatle and blamed it on Catcher in the Rye.  Thanks for nothing.

Oh, and here's a wild card, free of charge.  

Student busted for cheating?  Well, slap one of these bad boys on there:

Alright, that's enough out of me.   We'll chat soon.

Chris

*That was purely hypothetical.  But if you read that sentence and feared that someone may know your horrible secret, well, then, you should be ashamed of yourself.  Or quite proud.

** In all seriousness, though, I did trick my girlfriend into marrying me ask for my girlfriend’s hand in marriage and to everyone’s great surprise unsurprisingly she said maybe yes!

Posted by Chris Crighton on January 21, 2010 | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)

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