April 2004

Alex Suha • Anatomy of a Failure

I like classes that help me develop a sense of skill, so “Human Anatomy” looked like an obvious choice. It would help my understanding of the human vessel and everything inside it. Plus, it’s a science requirement.

"Blood is the river of life that surges within us, transporting nearly everything that must be carried from one place to another in the body.”

That’s the textbook talking. Anatomy is a fun class, but there’s too much of it. I wanted to find the time to do well, but between classes, homework, employment, rehearsals, and eating (about 78 hours a week), I didn’t want it that bad.

When you drop a class in the College of Liberal Arts and Sciences, you need to fill out a very important green slip. And get it processed as soon as possible. If your counselor signs it in time but you forget to turn in the slip until two days after the final deadline, you need to petition a committee of deans and other individuals whose names start and end with Dr. and Ph.D. If your reasons for not turning in the green slip on time don’t constitute an exception to the deadlines, then—regardless of the consequences of you failing the class, or the state funding the school receives for your attendance, or the ever-increasing cost of out-of-state tuition—you’re screwed. Told to "let it go.”

After that, if you feel like making an appointment with him, the President of the University will respectfully ask you to bring your concerns to the attention of the Provost’s Office. Then, the associate provost will assure you that you are screwed.

For a short while, I thought I was out, free and clear, so I didn’t go to class. Life was easier when the only spleen I had to worry about was my own—and not half as urgently, either. Then the result of my petition arrived, and I learned that my freedom was nothing more than blissfully ditching two weeks of class, just enough to miss the nervous system and fail its midterm. Screwed, terminally.

The only way to pass the class, as my sincerely awesome TA, Brad, put it, was to “kill the final.” In celebration of this possibility, Brad and I met in the library and discussed sphincters. On December 17, 2003, at 4:30 p.m., I took that final. And on my transcript, proud and permanent, you’ll find the greatest “D” I never wanted.

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