Junior year is hard. This is what everyone told me. In my young, underdeveloped head, I was sure that I was going to be the exception. I was going to have a successful and easy junior year. Who cares what anyone else says? I am the best at everything ever.

Then, all of a sudden, first quarter has ended and I have a C in two classes. Two Cs. One in AP U.S. History, the class so dreaded by juniors that only 20 or so students actually signed up for it. I suppose I couldn’t have gotten an A for effort. The other was College Algebra, which completely affects my entire college career.

I checked Skyward every few minutes to be sure that it was really true. Every time I saw those grades, it was like a punch in the gut. I could literally feel the weight of disappointment on my shoulders. My mother would kill me, or worse, disown me. My father would give the disappointed look that he has perfected over the years. The forehead wrinkles would be on full display as he looks at me and says the word “unacceptable”.

On a less life-threatening note, my car was in jeopardy. Visions of riding the dreaded bus with annoying middle school students filled my head. How could I survive another year of loud and obnoxious children? All this because of one academic misstep in a series of pretty solid high school years.

In all seriousness, this isn’t a long opinion about the injustice of grades and how they don’t actually represent the intelligence of a student. I’m smart enough to know thawwt nothing I say will ever change the grading process. Especially in high school, it is crunch time for every student wanting to get into college. Every grade counts. I do, however, believe that a history of good grades should mean something to the authority figures I am so afraid of. Maybe there is something wrong with the system when an average grade immediately elicits this terrified reactions.