At the beginning of the year you thought, "This year, I'm going to concentrate really hard on doing well in school. I'll turn everything in on time, I'll go to every class, and I'll respect myself as a scholar."
Now that the binders are nestled safely below empty PBR 30-rack boxes, supporting your Beer-Empire, it's time to face that grinding, screeching noise that the music of your college career has become.
It's getting to be that time when your semester grades will come in (or if you go to a school like mine where we don't have grades, your evaluations will trickle in by 2008 hopefully), so you best prepare yourself for the inevitable "ohhhh shit" that's likely to accompany many of those grades. I seem to have come down with a raging case of holiday benevolence, so I thought I'd assist in the preparation.
The class was at 10:00 am Tuesday and Thursday. You woke up both days at 10:55, cursed your roommate and your alarm clock for not having woken you up or finished your paper, and fell back asleep. Having missed the class, the papers really wouldn't have made much sense anyways, so you decided not to do them (a good call, friend). Ergo, your teacher obviously didn't appreciate these factors, decided to be an asshole, and has failed you.
What you tell your advisor/parents (say everything except what"'s in parenthesis):
The teacher and I just didn't connect (because I wasn't there). I felt like I was ostracized a lot of the time for merely having an opinion contradictory to her (my opinion was that every night of the week can and should be a party night). As much as I attempted to do the projects and work in the manner she asked for, I simply can't believe that my college experience is supposed to teach me how to compromise my integrity (and she"'s a total man-hating bitch, so I was fucked anyways).
You went to class most of the time, albeit hungover and probably ready to play spider solitaire for the duration of the class, but hey, you showed up! Huzzah!
Your work was on time" except for the times your "printer broke" or the "Email attachment messed up."
What you tell your advisor/parents:
I felt as though the professor wasn't prepared enough to teach this subject. It felt like he really wasn't on top of things (like he didn't notice me watching porn on my laptop 2 rows in front of him, the slacker). A lot of problems out of both of our control interfered with us really communicating (namely, the time we HAD to beat this bitch team on Halo2 out of Umass).
You went to class. You contributed to class discussions. You turned your work, which had thoughtful and provocative content, in on time. You respected the teacher's devotion to academia, and made it known.
What you tell your Friends:
You were boning the TA.