A few drafts of entries hide, latent, outside the public’s purview. They discuss mostly my French experience in Africa, and I wanted to focus mostly on the African experience, the human experience, the life stuff beyond the school stuff.
It’s hard to separate the two realms: I spoke, read, and wrote French in Africa. We took tests and turned in papers in that language. I’d rather just forget the grades from my study abroad, because–although they’re not horrible–they don’t reflect the breadth of my experience there.
Somehow, I was able to channel the spirit of the adventure–my reason for being there–and focus that energy into some of my schoolwork. And it resulted in the opening line of an email that made my day today:
May,
Comment allez-vous? Savez-vous que je vous ai donné un A pour votre projet anthropologique? C’était magnifique, ce que vous aviez écrit.
So, I’m happy I did well on the anthropology project, which was about families. I enjoyed writing it; I appreciated being able to express some of the things I learned that were important to me. I’ll push away the thought that I must have BUSTED on the exams to earn the overall grade. That thought is a little bit depressing.
Unquantifiable stuffs. You know.
A Little Thinking 
It comes down to a simple truth, beautiful. It’s not the rating, it what you do to earn it. Much love from the inadequately-cooled down here in the swamp.
Je vous souhaite pouvait m’apprende le francais, Mai!
Malcolm Gladwell didn’t get good enough grades to go to grad school. He got rejected from everything he applied to. I just learned that today and found it somewhat inspiring.
Thanks for the comments, fellas who are my friends.
Félicitations, May! I feel you about grades not defining you thing… All the time.
Seriously, the few times Mme has given me a compliment, my heart swells. Everything just sounds better coming from her, n’est-ce pas?
Thanks for the empathy. Mme Thompson’s compliments are treasures, indeed.