Well, roughly: the school I was at had a 'tracking' system which no mere mortal could possibly decipher and was designed for maximum benefit to the school's statistics. Anyway it was decreed from On High that anyone wishing to start the AP track could only do so by taking AP European History in sophomore year, amen and yea verily. It was also understood that AP was the Haaaahvaaaahd track, honors for state and small private colleges, and regular was fit only for the menials and the coloreds.
It was a special, special school.
So it was decided by The Mom that I was to take AP track, dammit, because I was certainly clever enough for it if only I would study and do my homework. I did not want to take AP track, because I am lazy, and I don't like my homework; up until college it was all rather stupid. Even in AP Euro. I'd rather read a book.
At the time I was taking AP Euro, Some Other Stuff was going on which is rather long and involved but the short of it is I was being bullied and harassed on a daily basis (this is also why my LJ was friendslocked for years), culminating in being accused of racist vandalism to the school auditorium and having a teacher go the principle and say he feared for his life whenever I was in the class and that was why he'd passed me. Because he was afraid I would shank a bitch if he did not.
I invite you to laugh with me at the high-spirited japes of my schoolchums. Ha. Ha. Ha. All the children responsible for this, mind, were in the AP program. This is probably why mom gave me no shit about failing the test. So come testing day, I was not in the shiniest and happiest of all possible moods
Testing Day was fucking gorgeous. One of those rare days that looks like they stepped out of a travel magazine, where the sunlight's so strong it makes everything seem more real for being touched by it. Probably if it hadn't been so pretty I wouldn't have done what I did. But about the second hour of the test, I began to wonder: why am I here? Why am I doing this? Do I actually care?
And the answers were I don't know, I don't know, and no, no I don't.
I began to ponder the unfairness of it all. I'd never wanted to take the APs. I especially didn't want to take AP Euro. See, my damage is, I have one gift and it's to do with stories and the English language. I've read so much and so voraciously and so obsessively that I can't not be brilliant at them. But I'm also an Aspie, so everything gets filtered through stories. Everything is narrative. Classes taught without story - like math - I can't handle. Curiously, I do rather well at science because there is a story there; the story of everything, you could say. And I do well at history when the emphasis is on the story, and the whys and the wherefores of what we did when and how. But AP Euro was mostly names and dates, because names and dates are what's on the test. I tend not to do so well when taught to the test. I don't test well, either. So why was I here, busting my balls to pass a test I didn't want to take for a track I had no interest in order to improve the statistics of a school that had done nothing to support me?
Bugger this for a lark, said the Id.
You're right, said the Ego. But let's check with Superego, you know what a stick in the mud he is.
No, no, this I agree on, said the Superego.
So I flipped to the essay section and wrote a long eloquent letter explaining how the APs were not relevant to my interests and I'd frankly learn more reading on my own time, please fail me, thanks muchly. Then I spent a merry half-hour vandalizing the exam book and criticizing the grammar on the questions.
The thing I remember most is the peace when I had made my decision. Writing the letter was cathartic; when I got up to turn in my test I felt, for the first time ever, as though I was doing exactly the right thing. Serenity poured over me like a soft spring rain. And then I went to the park and read a book. It was a much better way to spend an afternoon.
no subject
It was a special, special school.
So it was decided by The Mom that I was to take AP track, dammit, because I was certainly clever enough for it if only I would study and do my homework. I did not want to take AP track, because I am lazy, and I don't like my homework; up until college it was all rather stupid. Even in AP Euro. I'd rather read a book.
At the time I was taking AP Euro, Some Other Stuff was going on which is rather long and involved but the short of it is I was being bullied and harassed on a daily basis (this is also why my LJ was friendslocked for years), culminating in being accused of racist vandalism to the school auditorium and having a teacher go the principle and say he feared for his life whenever I was in the class and that was why he'd passed me. Because he was afraid I would shank a bitch if he did not.
I invite you to laugh with me at the high-spirited japes of my schoolchums. Ha. Ha. Ha. All the children responsible for this, mind, were in the AP program. This is probably why mom gave me no shit about failing the test. So come testing day, I was not in the shiniest and happiest of all possible moods
Testing Day was fucking gorgeous. One of those rare days that looks like they stepped out of a travel magazine, where the sunlight's so strong it makes everything seem more real for being touched by it. Probably if it hadn't been so pretty I wouldn't have done what I did. But about the second hour of the test, I began to wonder: why am I here? Why am I doing this? Do I actually care?
And the answers were I don't know, I don't know, and no, no I don't.
I began to ponder the unfairness of it all. I'd never wanted to take the APs. I especially didn't want to take AP Euro. See, my damage is, I have one gift and it's to do with stories and the English language. I've read so much and so voraciously and so obsessively that I can't not be brilliant at them. But I'm also an Aspie, so everything gets filtered through stories. Everything is narrative. Classes taught without story - like math - I can't handle. Curiously, I do rather well at science because there is a story there; the story of everything, you could say. And I do well at history when the emphasis is on the story, and the whys and the wherefores of what we did when and how. But AP Euro was mostly names and dates, because names and dates are what's on the test. I tend not to do so well when taught to the test. I don't test well, either. So why was I here, busting my balls to pass a test I didn't want to take for a track I had no interest in order to improve the statistics of a school that had done nothing to support me?
Bugger this for a lark, said the Id.
You're right, said the Ego. But let's check with Superego, you know what a stick in the mud he is.
No, no, this I agree on, said the Superego.
So I flipped to the essay section and wrote a long eloquent letter explaining how the APs were not relevant to my interests and I'd frankly learn more reading on my own time, please fail me, thanks muchly. Then I spent a merry half-hour vandalizing the exam book and criticizing the grammar on the questions.
The thing I remember most is the peace when I had made my decision. Writing the letter was cathartic; when I got up to turn in my test I felt, for the first time ever, as though I was doing exactly the right thing. Serenity poured over me like a soft spring rain. And then I went to the park and read a book. It was a much better way to spend an afternoon.
And that's how I failed my APs.