I give my class a two-part assignment: answer some questions about the reading and then participate in the in-class discussion. Participation is graded on whether you show up and say at least one thing within a small group — nothing big.

A student doesn’t attend class and doesn’t explain their absence, so they receive credit for only the reading questions — five of ten points. They come to talk to me about two weeks later.

Student: “I don’t think it’s fair that I only got five points. Why didn’t I get all ten points?”

Me: “Because you only did half the assignment; you didn’t attend class for the discussion.”

Student: “I don’t think it’s fair, though. Can I have the other points back?”

Me: “No, you only did half the assignment.”

Student: “You didn’t say on the sheet that I was supposed to attend class. Can I have the other points back?”

Me: “When I introduced the assignment, I said you have to attend class to get full credit. The information about this group of assignments posted online says you need to attend class for full credit.”

Student: “I don’t think it’s fair. Can I have the points back?”

Me: “No.”

Student: “It’s only five points. Can’t I just have the points?”

Me: “No.”

Student: “Can I do another assignment?”

Me: “No.”

Student: “Can’t I just do an extra credit assignment?”

Me: “No.”

Student: “It’s not fair!”

Me: “If you don’t like it, you can talk to the department chair and I’ll go with her decision.”

Student: “No, no, that’s not necessary! I just wondered if I could have the points.”

Me: “No!”

Student: “I didn’t know I had to come to class.”

Me: “No! This is really my final word. If you can’t accept it, you really need to talk to the department chair.”

Student: “No, that’s not necessary. This is not a big deal. I just don’t think it’s fair. It’s only five points.”

Last month, my daughter’s middle school English teacher asked her students to write a haiku to review for a vocabulary test. The haiku had to utilize at least one of their vocabulary words. The teacher also gave them another specific instruction remarking that the students were NOT allowed to end their haikus with the word “refrigerator,” which is a popular joke in haiku circles as the word contains five syllables.

So, my daughter came up with this little gem:

Poem: “Refrigerator

I circumvented the rule

Haha microwave”

I eventually stopped laughing long enough to wipe away my prideful tears and give her a hug. (“Circumvent” was one of their vocabulary words.)

Her teacher just laughed and said, in a slightly annoyed tone:

Teacher: “That’s very clever.”

My daughter received full credit on the assignment.

I’m on the phone with a friend late at night. I’m working with some software for a hobby, and she’s writing a paper for school.

Friend: “Why won’t this period delete?!”

Me: “Is it a speck on your screen?”

There’s a moment of silence.

Friend: “Yes…”

Me: *Trying not to laugh* “That’s what you get for writing a paper at 11:42 at night!”

When I was at university, I took a Woman’s Studies course. We had a paper to write about gender differences within the toy industry and early childhood development.

My childhood dream of spending three and a half hours in a toy store was way less fun when I realized it as an adult.

For our paper, we had to go to a toy store and make a detailed map of the entire store  — which sections were next to which other sections, etc. Then, we had to go and find two items in each section and rate them on four different criteria. Finally, we had to go and ask a store employee to give advice on what toy we should get for a fictional four-year-old boy/girl.

I went to a now bankrupt big box toy store. I had a clipboard, and I first went around and made a detailed map of the store. Then, I went back and created my itemized list and started categorizing two toys per section in each of the four criteria. As you can imagine, this took quite a while.

Occasionally, as I was doing my task, people would ask me questions. Since I had just made a map, I was able to answer quite a few of their questions.

Me: “The stuffed animals, ma’am? That’s aisle four, right next to the doll houses.”

Me: “You’re looking for a microscope? That would be in educational toys in the far right corner of the store, next to the grow-your-own crystal set.”

One customer asked:

Customer: “Where are the tricycles? And the bicycles?”

I promptly told them the difference between each section. They went to look and came back.

Customer: “Can you get me a different color from the back?”

Me: “Oh, I don’t actually work here. I’m just a student doing a project.”

They rolled their eyes and left in a huff, and I could tell that they thought I was just a lazy employee with a clipboard.

My high school experience was an exercise in frustration for everyone involved. I was in a lot of high-level classes because my test scores were excellent, especially in languages. I never got less than an A on any language test — English, Spanish, or French. Even scoring under a 95% was a rarity.

However, most of my language teachers found this irritating rather than encouraging because I “didn’t pay attention in class” — I drew during lectures  — and my homework grades were abysmal due to me almost never handing anything in. In hindsight, I think many of them believed I had to be cheating, especially the one who refused to give me a bonus point on a test that would have tipped my average to an A for the quarter because I was “not an A student” due to my study habits, according to her.

My mom tended to have to sit on me during the last week of each quarter and force me to complete my backlog of missing assignments just so I didn’t completely tank my otherwise good grades. Like I said, frustration for everyone involved.

I had exactly one Spanish teacher who I was able to convince that I really was learning in class, regardless of what my pencil was doing at the moment. And it was completely by accident.

One day, she asked a general question of the class. I was the only one to raise my hand to answer. I did so, and she replied in a somewhat stunned tone that I was correct. Why so surprised? Because at no point in this process did I look up from the drawing I was working on with my other hand. I don’t think she figured out that the drawing was actually helping me pay attention, but she at least realized it wasn’t hindering anything and stopped admonishing me when she caught me doodling instead of taking notes.

Fifteen years later, guess who was diagnosed with ADHD-PI?

“Not an A student,” my left buttcheek.