As a journalism student, I am accustomed to deadlines.
But when you are awaiting the results of a final exam grade that will determine whether the envelope you receive in a few weeks contains a diploma, or a letter welcoming you back to Blacksburg for an extra semester, deadlines have a new meaning.
This past Friday, as I sat in Cassell Colosseum, that exact cloud was looming over my cap and tassel. I was pretty sure that if I didn’t get a B+ or better on my humanities final, I would get below a C in the class, and I needed it for an Area II.
My professor said he would e-mail me some time in the morning, but when it was time to leave for the commencement ceremonies, my inbox was infested with crickets. I went through with motions in Cassell, and then out to lunch with my family.
I got home and immediately checked my e-mail. To my surprise, I had passed. It’s ironic that I graduated in this computer chair, where I spend most of my time avoiding school work.
It really didn’t hit me until a few hours later, but I never have to take another college class again. It kinda flew by…
