I suffered through a week of school after Thanksgiving, and then it was time for report cards. This was a totally new experience for me, but the group was fussing over the idea of getting grades. I didn’t care one way or another, until they stared having doubts about themselves. I mean, my friends are all pretty intelligent, and if they were worried, should I be?
I’d taken a number of tests since coming to DSW, as the kids called it. The lowest grade I had received was a 91 in “Language Arts”, and that meant A’s, right? Imagine my surprise when I opened my report card to find a C- and a D, the rest B’s and one A. The only A was in gym. How could a student with a 91 or better get grades that low? C is “average” (I hate to seem egotistical, but that just does not compute!) and D is what they give you when you really should be failing.
How can this be?
I knew that Aunt Lina wouldn’t be thrilled, but I didn’t expect her reaction. First she gave me the third degree about my tests. I told her I had them in my locker at school – a torture device that I am not going to get into in this post. She was not thrilled – she brought up the “Maddie Pennington” incident, and asked me if I wasn’t making those grades up. My voice went up an octave as I defended myself. Thankfully, I had one of my Social Studies tests in my backpack; it was a 97. But the teacher, Mrs. Raschall, gave me a D on my report card. Aunt Lina just shook her head, then logged onto the school website and sent e-mails to each of my teachers, asking for clarification of how the grades were calculated. She also blind-copied my guidance counselor, the principal, vice principal and the superintendent on each of those e-mails. She suspects that these teachers were taking my test grades, adding them up & dividing by the total number of points on all tests given since September. In essence, that would be like counting all of the work I didn’t do because I hadn’t moved to NJ yet, and calculating them as zeroes. That would effectively bring my grades down considerably.
Now I could understand one teacher making a mistake like that, but all of them?
DSW Middle School policy is that e-mails should be answered within 24 hours. The first response came in a few minutes, from the principal, Mr. Yevetski. He said that the school has a computer program to figure grades based on the full marking period, and that the teachers had simply turned in the grades for computation without factoring in my later starting date. He assured Aunt Lina that all steps would be taken to correct the problem, and a report card would be re-issued as soon as soon as possible. He would be contacting the teachers later this evening.
The second e-mail that Aunt Lina received was from Mrs. Raschall. It was less than cordial. She claimed that there was no way that the grade she gave me was incorrect, and that she had calculated the grade herself. She pretty much said I was over-reacting. She had sent the e-mail with no knowledge that Mr. Yevetski had told us that all grades were figured by computer (and he had even checked to see if mine had been calculated differently, based on my late October start date. They hadn’t).
I couldn’t help getting a little sarcastic, remarking that this was the offal I had to put up with every day, now that I was in school and not learning at home.
“I understand that you’re dealing with crap, Randi, but maybe I want you to learn how to grow roses. Supposedly that’s the best growth medium for flowers.”
I love Aunt Lina. She’d been working on a particularly tricky clay sculpture that day, so she was in no mood for “this stupid nonsense” as she put it. She wrapped her work up in a damp cloth, covered it in plastic and we went out for dinner. She needed a change of scenery, so we walked down to the boulevard, to get pizza. That’s one of Aunt Lina’s favorites. As we ate, we talked about how I was dealing with school, the move, and my friends. Aunt Lina came to the conclusion that we should just keep track of my test grades, and ask teachers how they counted homework. That way I could figure my grades myself.
The day after report cards, all of the teachers made a point of speaking with me before or after class. A few were apologetic. One even thanked me for bringing it to his attention. They all realized that I’d earned an A in their class. But not Mrs. Raschall. She was upset that she had to go through “all that trouble” to re-figure my grade. She said I “deserved” a B. When I asked her why a B and not an A, she said I didn’t participate enough in class.
And whenever I raise my hand, she makes a point of ignoring me, unless I’m the only one with my hand up. I guess I’m not going to be her favorite, any time soon.
Until my next post….
Randi
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