The teacher walked by each table and personally handed us the multicolored papers. I turned my head to keep my eyes locked with the teacher’s swift hands. As I peered, I saw many emotions running throughout the classroom. Common ones include anticipation, despair, and embarrassment. One thing was common: the hand of the teacher had power. Those hands had the power to make or break your day, and the power to change the emotion on your face. Coincidentally, my table group was the last one she came by. My look was one of mild anticipation before. My parents were never people who cared about my test scores. But I cared a whole lot. Her powerful hand dropped my graded test on my desk, the front facing down. As soon as the edge of the paper
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I wasn't a fan of actively going around and flaunting my score. My score would rip off its leash and run around the class by itself. The score itself was the vessel. I just needed to flip my test over and let my tablemates catch a glimpse for everyone in the class to know it. This concept of an automotive score ran with all of the “top students” in the class, but also ran with those not as privileged. Once a student has built their reputation high enough, just one subpar grade can destroy them. Nobody would care about the D-average student suddenly getting a C or an F. It was the elites they cared about. And the notion of social power that rested in the pen of the test grader, the hands of the teacher, and the score of the more fortunate student resonated throughout the …show more content…
I’ll tell you later.” I said, as I quickly walked away. I crumpled up my test and shoved it into my backpack.
• • •
The sheet of paper dropped onto my desk silently. I turned it over, while keeping it to myself, and smiled at my score. A 79/80, definitely one of the best scores in the class. But this experience triggered my memory of that Social Studies test I had taken two weeks back. The room for embarrassment. The internal sulking and despair. It didn’t seem fair to remove my protective leash and let my score hop around the class, bringing jealousy and disheartenment to everyone. I quickly shoved my test into my backpack, just like last time, except this time my mind was grinning. Daniel came over to my desk. “Hey, how did you do on your test? Probably better than me, he said, as he showed me his 68/80.” What should I have said? I couldn’t think of the right answer. So I decided to lie, in a way that I had never lied before. “What? How are you so good? I got a 63/80. You must have been studying so much!” I didn’t need the bragging rights and the jealousy of others as my “post-test gift.” All I needed was the smile on his face when I uttered those
I wasn't a fan of actively going around and flaunting my score. My score would rip off its leash and run around the class by itself. The score itself was the vessel. I just needed to flip my test over and let my tablemates catch a glimpse for everyone in the class to know it. This concept of an automotive score ran with all of the “top students” in the class, but also ran with those not as privileged. Once a student has built their reputation high enough, just one subpar grade can destroy them. Nobody would care about the D-average student suddenly getting a C or an F. It was the elites they cared about. And the notion of social power that rested in the pen of the test grader, the hands of the teacher, and the score of the more fortunate student resonated throughout the …show more content…
I’ll tell you later.” I said, as I quickly walked away. I crumpled up my test and shoved it into my backpack.
• • •
The sheet of paper dropped onto my desk silently. I turned it over, while keeping it to myself, and smiled at my score. A 79/80, definitely one of the best scores in the class. But this experience triggered my memory of that Social Studies test I had taken two weeks back. The room for embarrassment. The internal sulking and despair. It didn’t seem fair to remove my protective leash and let my score hop around the class, bringing jealousy and disheartenment to everyone. I quickly shoved my test into my backpack, just like last time, except this time my mind was grinning. Daniel came over to my desk. “Hey, how did you do on your test? Probably better than me, he said, as he showed me his 68/80.” What should I have said? I couldn’t think of the right answer. So I decided to lie, in a way that I had never lied before. “What? How are you so good? I got a 63/80. You must have been studying so much!” I didn’t need the bragging rights and the jealousy of others as my “post-test gift.” All I needed was the smile on his face when I uttered those