It is report card day and I am so anxious to see my grades. Report card day has always been my favorite day of the year. Every time I would open up that little envelope I would get to see all A’s and all check marks. Here comes the teacher, report cards in hand. Some of the kids in my class weren’t as excited as me and I never knew why. I later found out that not everyone made excellent marks like I did. After Mrs. Summers passed out all the report cards it was time to go home.
Riding home on the bus I decided to open my report card, I just had to know what my grades were. As I slowly peel back the envelope flap, I am almost dying with anticipation. My hands are all shaky. You would think that after all the years of making nothing but A’s it would be a little easier to open this envelope, but it’s not. Every time I go to open a report card I’m always just as nervous as the first time. As I pull out this folded up paper, I’m excited and nervous at the same time. I can’t wait to see what is on it.
As I look at the grades on this report card I cannot believe my eyes. What is this B doing on my report card? By this time I am running into the house, tears streaming down my face, I can barely hold on to this wretched piece of paper. I can’t breathe, I can’t speak, I’m racing through my house looking for my mom with this horrible expression on my face. How could I have not made an A, what did I do wrong? All these questions are running through my little eleven year old head.
When I finally find my mom I can’t tell her what’s wrong, I can only show her the horrific grade on my report card. She just looks at me, sees the tears streaming down my face and almost laughs. As she holds me in her arms, she does her best to convince me that everything will be ok. She tells me I did great and she is very proud of me.
Why was I so distraught over this one little B? It wasn’t the end of the world. But it wasn’t what I was used...