Perpetual Ruminations

Past Memories

I don't know why or how it happens, but out of thin air, I find myself journeying back through the years. I'll lock on to some almost forgotten memory, and sometimes smile as I relive the memory; other times, I may cry, depending on who or what the memory is about. Yet other times, I just find myself wondering what (or what doesn't) go through some people's heads.

Today was such a day. Not feeling well, I sat in my recliner and closed my eyes, waiting for the Tylonal to kick in. While relaxing, I found myself back in time to my college days. Unlike some, I did not go to college after high school; I furthered my education by enlisting in the United States Air Force. It wasn't until I was in my thirties that I decided to go back to school and work towards a couple of degrees.

One class I really enjoyed was the Composition class, where I could unleash my inner author (with the guidance of a great instructor and a wonderful muse). I had passed Comp. I with a 4.0 and was now about halfway through Comp. II and still maintaining a 4.0. There were a few of us maintaining 4.0 grades, so our instructor decided one day to put us into groups. The idea was to place one of the best students in a group of students who were struggling.

It sounded like a good idea, but it was far from it. I was in a group of four students: myself, one younger female, and two wrestlers. The female was all into the two jocks who were also college-age kids, and they all got along. But none of the three could write worth a crap. Not only grammatical errors, but everything about their writing was wrong.

Previously, every student worked on their own story, but now it was each group would work together on the same story. We had class on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. On Monday, we would get a subject to write about, on Wednesdays, we would go over our work in the group and decide which item we would pursue, and on Friday, a rough draft needed to be turned in.

Of course, the female loved the items presented by the jocks, but no one liked mine. They tore it to shreds and insisted on one of the other three items being picked, usually the females. It didn't matter to these fools that they were all three failing the course and that I was one of the few at the top of the class.

I had a private conversation with my instructor, informing him that they would not even look at what I wrote, and insisted on picking one of their stories, meaning I would lose my 4.0. He told me I could turn in my own item if the group didn't figure it out. He even addressed the class about how each group had one of the top writers in it to help those who were struggling. The result, all three of my group members informed me when I again presented my story that I should just nod my head and agree with them.

The groups didn't last very long, and when I entered Comp 111, I was delighted to see that none of my previous critics were in my class; they had all failed out. Me? I held my 4.0, enjoyed the classes, and was delighted when my instructor asked for my permission to use my items in future classes.