The TA told me the professor wanted me to email him to set up a time to meet. I did (three times). No response. I was ready to give up.

After class, I noticed the professor was packing up his bags. Usually, he has a line of students wanting his attention (I assume to also talk about how inadequate his study guide was). I wasn’t in the mood to talk with him because I was carrying these feelings of anger and resentment.

I don’t know much about negotiation, but I know enough that it’s a bad idea to go into one with those types of feelings. I tried walking out of the classroom, but that voice in my head told me I should go back and talk with him.

“Excuse me, Professor? Do you have a minute?” I never sounded so weak and pathetic.

He told me he had time to chat right now. Before I had the chance to run away, I found my feet following him into his office. I sat down.

“What’s going on?” He asked.

I took a deep breath.

What should I say? Should I tell him that a third of his test wasn’t on the study guide? Should I tell him that I spent over 10 hours studying and still felt like it wasn’t enough? Should I tell him he’s a bad teacher, unorganized, and not fit to stand in front of a classroom full of students?

“I wanted to talk about the exam that’s coming up next month. It’s a lot of information, and I am not sure where to put my attention.”

He told me I should make flashcards. I told him I did that.

He told me I should meet with my group and study together. I told him I did that too.

He said I could go to the tutoring center. I told him I go twice a week.

He raised his eyebrow. He asked me what I got on my last exam. Before I could answer, he started grading it right in front of me. Reader, do not be in the same room as the professor as he grades your exam.

He mumbled my response to an exam question under his breath. “Not quite,” he said. He started typing. “A Ziggurat is the foundation base upon which the Shakura sat; pyramids were literally the space for the Pharaoh's burial chamber.”

“At least don’t say it out loud!” I thought to myself. I braced myself for the rest of his scathing remarks.

“Oh, that’s interesting. That’s good. Good. Great.” He kept going on like that. “228 out of 244. You got an A.” I was dumbfounded. “Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it. It worked.”

“What about the third of the exam that wasn’t on the test?” I wondered. I’m ashamed to admit, I didn’t have the courage to bring it up. If I got an A, why poke the bear? I was worried he’d somehow get mad and take my grade away.

Before I left his office, he gave me a list of five or six areas to focus on for the next exam.

I realized that I had worried for nothing. If I hadn’t gone in there, I still would have gotten an A (although I wouldn’t have gotten the additional focus areas for the next exam).

My big takeaway from this is that just because I’m worried about something, it doesn’t mean it’s real. It felt real. It felt like I did terribly on his exam, but in reality, I did fine, even great. I’ve been wondering, where else am I worried for nothing? How else am I doing better than I think I am?

Elijah

Learning at 30