"If he only applied himself."
The above, which has always struck me as a particularly apt epitaph for me, was practically a mantra among all those whose misfortune it has been to be assigned the task of teaching me stuff.
I have been cursed with a particular combination of genes that include a rather decent IQ with a desire for solitude and repose and a good book and some soothing beverage. So, my attitude to studying was always "Why kill myself...when I can sleep through it all and get a B*?" The good Sisters of St. Joseph and the good Jesuit fathers probably hacked off centuries off Purgatory (for others, if they were in good salvational shape themselves) in frustration over me. All I really had to do in order to achieve a decent enough score on a test was to pay attention in class and skim through the textbook. Considering a regimen of studiousness drove home, even during those tender years, the concept behind the Law of Diminishing Returns.
So I sat pretty, or so I thought. School was easy. I slept and got good enough grades to get on the waiting lists of some VERY impressive universities. When my father saw my SAT scores he freaked out, because they were commensurate with someone whose academic performance was substantially better than that of my "Not too bad" record. That's the first time I remember his face cast with the mingled look of disappointment and anger. It had finally hit home what all those "If he only applied himself..." bromides meant.
But even THEN I didn't learn. The combination of a very rigorous HS and my own coasting gene meant that I practically tobogganed through my bachelor's. When time came for graduate school, my friends were zipping off to Very Big Deal business, medical and law schools. I went to an OK school. Nothing to sneeze at, but hardly the sort of thing which burnishes people's view of you.
So that brings us to the present.
TFBIM had gone to one of those teacher and parent things, and was talking to NOS's teacher when she unbelted with one of those "If [NOS] only applied himself..."
Uh oh.
Hence my concern for my kids. You can't hang a waiting list letter on the wall and expect maximum ducats.
-J.
* "B" being the next highest grade/mark. It's a rough equivalent of "8 out of 10."
I have been cursed with a particular combination of genes that include a rather decent IQ with a desire for solitude and repose and a good book and some soothing beverage. So, my attitude to studying was always "Why kill myself...when I can sleep through it all and get a B*?" The good Sisters of St. Joseph and the good Jesuit fathers probably hacked off centuries off Purgatory (for others, if they were in good salvational shape themselves) in frustration over me. All I really had to do in order to achieve a decent enough score on a test was to pay attention in class and skim through the textbook. Considering a regimen of studiousness drove home, even during those tender years, the concept behind the Law of Diminishing Returns.
So I sat pretty, or so I thought. School was easy. I slept and got good enough grades to get on the waiting lists of some VERY impressive universities. When my father saw my SAT scores he freaked out, because they were commensurate with someone whose academic performance was substantially better than that of my "Not too bad" record. That's the first time I remember his face cast with the mingled look of disappointment and anger. It had finally hit home what all those "If he only applied himself..." bromides meant.
But even THEN I didn't learn. The combination of a very rigorous HS and my own coasting gene meant that I practically tobogganed through my bachelor's. When time came for graduate school, my friends were zipping off to Very Big Deal business, medical and law schools. I went to an OK school. Nothing to sneeze at, but hardly the sort of thing which burnishes people's view of you.
So that brings us to the present.
TFBIM had gone to one of those teacher and parent things, and was talking to NOS's teacher when she unbelted with one of those "If [NOS] only applied himself..."
Uh oh.
Hence my concern for my kids. You can't hang a waiting list letter on the wall and expect maximum ducats.
-J.
* "B" being the next highest grade/mark. It's a rough equivalent of "8 out of 10."
Comments
But it was high enough to get me into my chosen school(s), so I didn't bother re-taking it. (SEE?!)
I am the Queen of Slackerdom. If not the Empress.
Are we seeing a common thread among a certain kind of blogger, here?
-J.
Just because he is 'sneakin' along', doesn't mean he has his eyes and ears closed. I prefer to think of it as 'conserving energy' for the right opportunity to bloom. You just watch. Your two have Big Things in store. Formal School isn't Everything.