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It should be blindingly obvious by now that my grand scheme to write a fic per day for twenty-five days has imploded. This is not because of sloth or lack of interest, but because I was busily fretting over inexplicable academic didoes.
According to my calculations, I should have an eighty-seven in my Classical Mythology course. My marks were an abysmal 68.5 on the first test, a 100 on my first essay, a 93 on the second test, and another 100 on the second essay. So, verily, I'm cruising.
But when I check my online gradebook, the weighted average is 64.5 I check the grades posted. They are all correct; I break out the calculator and crunch numbers. 87. But the computer says 64.5. I'm hopelessly bewildered.
So, as anyone would do, I contact Dr. Hot and ask what's going on. Have I missed a test? Is he angry because my attendance has been...spotty?
Dr. Hot replies that he has no idea why the online gradebook shows a 64.5. According to his records, I have an 87. He tells me not to worry because his is the gradebook that counts. I melt in a gooey, trembling puddle of relief and curse the diabolical pisspot hellspawn that is the university Blackboard, which, so help me God, is the world's largest special ed classroom.
Now that that's settled, my gleeful ficcing shall resume in the morning, but the next letter is the CSI:NY alphabet will still be a few days in coming because it's Flackcentric, and damn if that pretty man doesn't like the limelight.
According to my calculations, I should have an eighty-seven in my Classical Mythology course. My marks were an abysmal 68.5 on the first test, a 100 on my first essay, a 93 on the second test, and another 100 on the second essay. So, verily, I'm cruising.
But when I check my online gradebook, the weighted average is 64.5 I check the grades posted. They are all correct; I break out the calculator and crunch numbers. 87. But the computer says 64.5. I'm hopelessly bewildered.
So, as anyone would do, I contact Dr. Hot and ask what's going on. Have I missed a test? Is he angry because my attendance has been...spotty?
Dr. Hot replies that he has no idea why the online gradebook shows a 64.5. According to his records, I have an 87. He tells me not to worry because his is the gradebook that counts. I melt in a gooey, trembling puddle of relief and curse the diabolical pisspot hellspawn that is the university Blackboard, which, so help me God, is the world's largest special ed classroom.
Now that that's settled, my gleeful ficcing shall resume in the morning, but the next letter is the CSI:NY alphabet will still be a few days in coming because it's Flackcentric, and damn if that pretty man doesn't like the limelight.