Black Susan B. Anthony
Gather 'round, friends. It's time for a scary story.
*shines flashlight under chin*
Once upon a time, in the land of community college, there was an almost middle-aged woman. Almost, people. She was taking a government class and enjoying it immensely! Although her calendar was filled with countless marks on each day, it excited her to attend classes each week and study at home.
On the first day of classes, the students received their long term writing assignment. They were to choose any person or event, past or present. After much deliberation and computer searching, the almost middle-aged woman chose to write about Susan B. Anthony. She already knew some basics about her, such as the fact that her head is on the dollar coin, she fought for women's rights, and her name rhymed with Bloosan. What could go wrong?
Yeah.
First, the class was required to submit a simple outline for the professor to approve each student's topics and key points. Our girl's outline was received well and given an A+. Her next step was the halfway point: the rough draft. She had procrastinated with this step; some life obstacles had occurred and aside from a few basic notes, she hadn't worked on the rough draft until two days before its due date. Ok, fine, one day.
For the record: Almost middle aged woman loves to write and is a proficient typist. Almost 90 wpm, you guys! *fistbump* She wasn't worried. Information on Susan B. Anthony abounds in libraries and on the internet. It was all good!
She cranked out that rough draft like nobody's business and finished up during the wee hours of the morning on its due date. Done! The paper was submitted online as required and she strolled into class that day with a slightly naughty background theme song blaring (in her head), each stride on beat.
The students didn't receive rough draft grades until the following class.
Ok, ok. *turns on light, takes off wig and sunglasses*
This might come as a surprise to you, but this story is about me. I know, I know. For the nitty gritty details, I'll just tell it like it happened.
*Sigh*
At the beginning of class on a chilly Monday morning, it all went down. Our teacher announced to the class that he'd graded our rough drafts and explained that some students had lost points for citations issues, others required more information, and a few needed to be careful because the magic computer had flagged them as possible plagiarism suspects. Mr. Teacher warned the class against plagiarism and reminded us of the severity and consequences of that crime. This had nothing to do with me, as I knew my paper's spectacular wordings had come straight from my own head. And then…
He turned to look at me. I aimed my glasses at him, awaiting a "Your paper was flippin' awesomazing" comment. Toned down, of course, so the other students wouldn't feel inadequate. Right after his firm and slightly intimidating speech on plagiarism, he looked at me and said, "Rebecca, I need to speak with you after class."
My cheeks burned. I'm sorry, what? Um, no need to make the other kids feel bad, but…hello, he kind of looped me in with the sneaky mcsneaker students. I planned to mention something about this later in our special meeting for almost middle-aged gifted writers. In a passive-aggressive joke sort of way, of course.
This is how the post class conversation transpired:
Teacher: So, I read your paper.
Me: Yes? (holding back a smile)
Teacher: (long pause, looking uncomfortable) In your outline…you didn't mention…that Susan B. Anthony was black.
Me: Wait. What?
Teacher: In your paper you said she's…you know…
Me: Black? (my pulse is starting to race)
Teacher: Have you seen a picture of Susan B. Anthony?
Me: She's not black, right? Did I say she was black??? (I think I'm gonna pass out)
Teacher: (sighs) Yes.
Me: Holy guacamole.
Teacher: Yes.
Me: (look of shock and horror on my face)
Teacher: Rebecca, this is why you don't write papers the night before they're due.
Me: (I spontaneously fold in half right in front of him, busting out in uncontrollable laughter)
Teacher: (staring at me, no smile)
Me: (standing up again) I want to thank you so much for not mentioning this in front of the whole class!
Teacher: (gives me a small smile)
Me: I'm really sorry! I'll change it as soon as possible, promise. I've never done that before!
Teacher: (shakes his head) Have a good afternoon, Rebecca.
What is the moral of this story, you ask?
A. Susan B. Anthony was amazing, just the way she was. (sing it like Bruno, you guys)
B. Early preparation is key.
C. Late night studying is a no-go.
D. Overconfidence will be your downfall.
E. Wearing reading glasses in class will make you look like a hard-working student.
F. All of the above.
Feel free to choose F; all are common sense when it comes to college preparedness. But whatever what you do, never, EVER…
Plagiarize. That's a naughty no-no and will get you kicked out of school!
Wig and sunglasses at the ready,
Bucky
*shines flashlight under chin*
Once upon a time, in the land of community college, there was an almost middle-aged woman. Almost, people. She was taking a government class and enjoying it immensely! Although her calendar was filled with countless marks on each day, it excited her to attend classes each week and study at home.
On the first day of classes, the students received their long term writing assignment. They were to choose any person or event, past or present. After much deliberation and computer searching, the almost middle-aged woman chose to write about Susan B. Anthony. She already knew some basics about her, such as the fact that her head is on the dollar coin, she fought for women's rights, and her name rhymed with Bloosan. What could go wrong?
Yeah.
First, the class was required to submit a simple outline for the professor to approve each student's topics and key points. Our girl's outline was received well and given an A+. Her next step was the halfway point: the rough draft. She had procrastinated with this step; some life obstacles had occurred and aside from a few basic notes, she hadn't worked on the rough draft until two days before its due date. Ok, fine, one day.
For the record: Almost middle aged woman loves to write and is a proficient typist. Almost 90 wpm, you guys! *fistbump* She wasn't worried. Information on Susan B. Anthony abounds in libraries and on the internet. It was all good!
She cranked out that rough draft like nobody's business and finished up during the wee hours of the morning on its due date. Done! The paper was submitted online as required and she strolled into class that day with a slightly naughty background theme song blaring (in her head), each stride on beat.
The students didn't receive rough draft grades until the following class.
Ok, ok. *turns on light, takes off wig and sunglasses*
This might come as a surprise to you, but this story is about me. I know, I know. For the nitty gritty details, I'll just tell it like it happened.
*Sigh*
At the beginning of class on a chilly Monday morning, it all went down. Our teacher announced to the class that he'd graded our rough drafts and explained that some students had lost points for citations issues, others required more information, and a few needed to be careful because the magic computer had flagged them as possible plagiarism suspects. Mr. Teacher warned the class against plagiarism and reminded us of the severity and consequences of that crime. This had nothing to do with me, as I knew my paper's spectacular wordings had come straight from my own head. And then…
He turned to look at me. I aimed my glasses at him, awaiting a "Your paper was flippin' awesomazing" comment. Toned down, of course, so the other students wouldn't feel inadequate. Right after his firm and slightly intimidating speech on plagiarism, he looked at me and said, "Rebecca, I need to speak with you after class."
My cheeks burned. I'm sorry, what? Um, no need to make the other kids feel bad, but…hello, he kind of looped me in with the sneaky mcsneaker students. I planned to mention something about this later in our special meeting for almost middle-aged gifted writers. In a passive-aggressive joke sort of way, of course.
This is how the post class conversation transpired:
Teacher: So, I read your paper.
Me: Yes? (holding back a smile)
Teacher: (long pause, looking uncomfortable) In your outline…you didn't mention…that Susan B. Anthony was black.
Me: Wait. What?
Teacher: In your paper you said she's…you know…
Me: Black? (my pulse is starting to race)
Teacher: Have you seen a picture of Susan B. Anthony?
Me: She's not black, right? Did I say she was black??? (I think I'm gonna pass out)
Teacher: (sighs) Yes.
Me: Holy guacamole.
Teacher: Yes.
Me: (look of shock and horror on my face)
Teacher: Rebecca, this is why you don't write papers the night before they're due.
Me: (I spontaneously fold in half right in front of him, busting out in uncontrollable laughter)
Teacher: (staring at me, no smile)
Me: (standing up again) I want to thank you so much for not mentioning this in front of the whole class!
Teacher: (gives me a small smile)
Me: I'm really sorry! I'll change it as soon as possible, promise. I've never done that before!
Teacher: (shakes his head) Have a good afternoon, Rebecca.
What is the moral of this story, you ask?
A. Susan B. Anthony was amazing, just the way she was. (sing it like Bruno, you guys)
B. Early preparation is key.
C. Late night studying is a no-go.
D. Overconfidence will be your downfall.
E. Wearing reading glasses in class will make you look like a hard-working student.
F. All of the above.
Feel free to choose F; all are common sense when it comes to college preparedness. But whatever what you do, never, EVER…
Plagiarize. That's a naughty no-no and will get you kicked out of school!
Wig and sunglasses at the ready,
Bucky
You are a joy to know and a hoot to read! Keep the stories coming.
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