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TITLE (EDIT)
My First D |
DESCRIPTION
A short piece.
[959 words] |
AUTHOR
Morgan A Brennan |
ABOUT
THE AUTHOR
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[December 2004] |
My First D
Morgan A Brennan
We were all in our homeroom classes just waiting for the clock to tick to 2:40, that was when my school ended. I think we were all sort of dreading getting our report cards that day. I was always a great student, I always had 3.5 GPA�s, and �outstanding student� written beside my grade. I was always pretty excited to get my report cards because I knew that I had done well. I always got A�s and B�s. I once got a C, and I felt like I had let myself down because of it, but a C was not bad, so I didn�t beat myself up for it for months. Although, I knew that it was only one C, and a C was still passing. But today�today was different. My homeroom teacher was passing out the white envelopes that contained our anxiously awaited report cards in them. I immediately tore mine open, looking at my grades. A, A, A, B, eh, that�s all right, I mean, I wasn�t looking for a 4.0! But then�then I saw a big, fat, ugly D! I was shocked. I just stood there looking over my report card again, not believing what I was seeing. Yeah, it was definitely a D. I was so mad! I had gotten the D in my Math class, and I knew that my teacher hated me! I knew it, I knew it! I blamed it all on him. Which to this day, still seems like he did have something to do with it. But, it was me. I could have done something to prevent this from happening, but I didn�t. Of course I didn�t think about blaming myself at the moment, I was so frustrated. All my friends came up to me and asked, �What�d ya get, what�d ya get!� I just stood there and let them look at it, they seemed just as shocked as I was. They knew I was a good student. I just wanted out, I just wanted to go and cry. My dad was coming to pick me up that day after school, I was looking forward to that.
The bell finally rang, and the kids were going out into the halls and gathering their things, I got my stuff, and headed out to find my dad. I glided past all my friends, not saying a word. I was embarrassed, even though I knew that my friends had gotten their share of bad grades, I hated knowing that I had let myself down. I finally found my dad�s old, red Ford, and got in. He knew something was wrong. �Uh-ohh, what�s the matter?� He said. My dad was one of those who were funny, caring, and serious at the same time. He was such a great dad. I didn�t say anything but show him my report card. He was reading the list of perfection, �A, A, A, B, that�s alright.� Then he kept reading, �A, A, �D?� He said surprised, but he didn�t seem angry. I said, �It wasn�t my fault dad! It wasn�t! Mr. Hockman HATES me! I�m so sorry!� Then I just started crying right then and there. Both my parents knew how much I cared about my grades, so I knew that they�d understand, but I just didn�t want a D on my report card, even if it didn�t go on my permanent record. My dad understood, he said, �Morgan, I know. I�ll try to make a parent-teacher conference�I know it doesn�t make sense how you got all A�s, a B and a D, it just doesn�t make sense.�
I was so thankful for my dad, he understood, and he didn�t judge me. He helped me get through all of my tears and hate towards my teacher. But, we both knew, that I could have changed my grade if I tried. My dad was always there for me. I loved my dad for what he did. He even tried to make a parent-teacher conference, but surprisingly, my teacher never did call him back. I learned a valuable lesson, always try your best, and try to stop things from happening before it�s too late, and believe it or not�sometimes, not everything is your fault so, make sure that you just keep trying and don�t be mad at yourself for everything. I got through my first D, and I try harder and harder each day to get my grades up. All through 6th and 7th grade, I got a 3.5 or higher GPA, even with a couple C�s and a D, that�s what I am proud of. And I knew my dad was proud of me, no matter what. I am now going into the 8th grade, prepared for any challenges or obstacles that may come, and I know my dad will always be there to dry my tears and help me through these tough teenage years. I love you dad.
Part 2: My First �D�
Well, it�s a new year, and guess what? I am an eighth grader who learned a lot from my 7th grade year with Mr. Hockman. Turns out, I have him again for Math. Lucky me, right? So, I showed him this. It�s funny�how much people can change in a year, and how much someone can learn from their first D. I guess I could say that Mr. Hockman taught me another lesson apart from math. He taught me that sometimes�things happen for a reason. Which it did. It happened because I didn�t try and get my grade up. I am no longer angry at my teacher, and I am no longer angry at myself. It�s weird, I�m happy I got that D that day. I learned so much from it. Now�I�m currently upholding a B in Math.
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COPYRIGHT NOTICE
© 2004 Morgan A Brennan |
STORYMANIA PUBLICATION DATE
December 2004 |
NUMBER OF TIMES TITLE VIEWED
1802
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