The one the teacher had been
That was worth 50% of my final mark.
Yes. THAT assignment.
She had handed it out shortly after the Christmas break.
We had three months to complete it.
Due Date: April 1.
Feverishly, I set to work.
Researched. (And just so you know, research was a lot harder back then. It involved such things as: books. Physically turning pages. Trips to the *gasp* library. Looking things up in the card catalog. Knowing the Dewey Decimal System. Becoming close friends with the librarian. Yikes.)
Drew up draft after draft.
Finalized.
Put on the finishing touches.
Slept soundly the night of March 31, wrapped warmly in the knowledge that I had completed the assignment to the best of my ability and that, surely, an 'A' was forthcoming.
Okay, now forget everything I wrote from the line "Due Date: April 1."
Because this is what really happened.
................................................................................................................................................
................................................................................................................................................
Then March 31 dawned.
And with it, the knowledge that I should . . . you know . . . make a start on the assignment.
What was it again?
A trip to the library was out of the question. We lived 20 miles from town and 'no way one of my parents was going to pay for my slothfulness' .
I'm quoting my father BTW.
I turned to the only resources available.
Dad.
Mom.
The cook.
The hired men.
The encyclopedia Britannica.
And the National Geographic.
With occasional queries to my siblings.
And my horse.
Just FYI, that last was a total waste of time. He didn't know anything.
If Necessity is the Mother of invention, then Desperation is its Father.
And I was truly desperate. (Hence said query to my horse.)
I sifted purposefully through Dad's stack of National Geographics (see above).
Chose a topic at random.
And started in.
Now, just so you know, Dad had problems with us kids cutting up his precious magazines.
But if you hid said magazines really, really well . . .
I don't remember what topic I chose.
But I do remember that there were plenty of colourful pictures that supported it. And as long as I cut using the correct scissors (Diane! You'd better not be using my sewing scissors?!) my biggest decision remained: Do I use this picture? Or the one on the other side ?
Fortunately, Mom had a store of poster board. I'm not sure why. Maybe because she had dealt with Procrastinator #4 (ie. me) before.
But there was one thing she did not have.
A bottle of glue.
And no it wasn't because I had eaten said glue.
Nope.
This bottle, my smaller siblings had eaten.
True story.
No way you could get them to eat broccoli. But give them a bottle of processed horse hooves and they were on it!
Where was I?
Oh, yes. Glue.
Or the lack thereof.
Then Mom made the momentous announcement: "If you mix flour and water into a thick paste, it sticks really well."
The day is mine!
I mixed and slathered and pasted.
And slathered and pasted.
And pasted.
And . . . you know what? It didn't work at all!
But by now, March 31 had rapidly turned into April 1 and the bus was coming.
I packaged up my 'project' and headed out.
Kathy was proudly showing the culmination of months of preparation when I got on the bus. I don't remember her topic, but I think it had flashing neon lights and maybe an actual working model of a machine that turned lead into gold. Complete with lead. And gold.
Yeah, Kathy was amazing like that.
When she asked me about mine, I quickly changed the subject: "Oh my! Look! Balog's cows are out!"
Yeah, I was clever that way.
Shortly thereafter, I turned in my project along with the others and happily forgot about it.
I think I received a "Diane would have gotten a better grade if she'd spent more time on this assignment."
Who listened?
P.S. Years later, I discovered my assignment stuffed into a file in the back of Mom's file cabinet. And guess what? Those pictures were stuck so tight an act of God wouldn't have removed them.
Flour and water do work.
You just have to . . . plan ahead . . .
Some of us work best under pressure, this last minute frantic rush is how I went through high school and college.
ReplyDeleteI remember many assignments like that in high school and college. Stressful! Sometimes still have dreams about that situation.
ReplyDeleteI've done assignments both ways, and i do recommend the little-at-a-time method, if you can make yourself do it.
ReplyDeleteI've never understood glue eating, don't know anyone who has done that ever. I remember the year I was late with a project along with several other kids, we each had ten points deducted from our score.
ReplyDeleteI remember school assignments so well. Sometimes I dream about them. One time, we lived in Chelan, Washington, when they had the Apple Cup hydroplane races on Sunday, I didn't get my assignment done so I stayed home from school Monday to finish it. I was a good student. Unfortunately, my family kept my school work in a cellar after I left home. All of my school work that I'd kept was ruined when the cellar flooded due to heavy rain. One notebook survived. It was on U.S. and world facts, such as crops, and some history and contained answers to study questions in the text book. I got an A. I remember one teacher giving back the assignments and pointing out how one student didn't write much and another student copied most of what was in the book. I think I was the latter. Another time a science teacher pointed out a drawing I did. Maybe it was for extra credit. He said it couldn't have been copies because it was on thick construction paper.
ReplyDeleteOMGosh. GLUE????? I mean.
ReplyDeleteI had an assignment like that once. Had to do a report on Egyptian or Greek art, can't remember which. Didn't have anything done for it the Friday before it was due on Monday. Teacher called on me to explain the difference between two different art styles and I couldn't. But I got an A on the report that I handed in on Monday. Luckily, I had time to get to the library.
ReplyDeleteI was kind of a spur of the moment type and still am. You were creative and that's what counts.
ReplyDelete