Different School System is Different

If you are like me, and I know that many of you are, your sense of self worth is strongly tied to the grades you receive in school.

And as several of you probably already knew, different countries have different school systems, which use different grading systems.

Despite my previous experience abroad, I forgot this last bit of crucial information about two weeks ago.

I received an email alerting me that my first assignment of the year had been graded, and was available for pick up in the English Department Office. (It’s all very official, you have to sign in a paper when you turn it in and sign out the assignment when you pick it up.) Feeling both confident and curious about my progress so far in the program, I went to pick up my paper. I walked out of the office, flipped to the last page and stared down at my paper in shock.

I HAD GOTTEN A 64.

I was crushed. I couldn’t believe I’d done so badly on my first assignment of the program. I felt the tears welling up in my eyes as I came to the horrible conclusion that I was no longer good at school. I went to the restroom and tried my best to calm down. When I was as close to calm as I could manage, I made the incredibly depressing walk to my professor’s office to ask her what I could do to improve. The whole way I tormented myself with images of being chased out of the English department by an angry mob made up of pitchfork and torch carrying professors. (We are Medievalists, after all.)

If you are like me, and I know that a few of you are, you know that when you don’t want to cry that talking is the worst thing you can possibly do. Keeping this in mind, I made sure to give only brief responses to her advice. The other two professors who share her office stared at me with pity in their eyes. I tried my hardest to avoid looking at anything but my worthless assignment. I just barely had the water works under control. Finally, I nodded, said “thank you,” walked out of the office, and began speed walking toward the bathroom.

“Wait!! What was your name?” I turned and saw my professor.

“Elizabeth.” I whimpered.

“Come back in for a moment.”

I walked back into her office where one of the other professors greeted me.

“You’re American, right?”

I nodded.

“You’re probably worried that you did badly—but here a 70 is an A.”

It turns out that I actually got a B+, and everything is fine. Oh dear.