Last year, when I got my spring semester grades back, I received an A- in Calculus. “Well, an A is an A, so a win is a win,” I thought. My parents told me that as long as I tried my best in college, that was all that mattered.
That way of thinking, however, doesn’t fly at an institution like Columbia. When I first stepped onto campus as a sophomore, I was thinking about the clubs, internships, and research positions I wanted to apply to, until I passed the Low Steps.
“Dumbass.” A voice to my left hissed.
“Huh?” I took out my AirPods.
“You heard me, DUMBASS.” Alma Mater had come to life and was looking at me straight in the eye. “How did you even get into this school?”
It took me a moment to realize what she was referring to.
“Miss Mater, I really tried my best in that Calculus class. One A- isn’t that bad, right?”
“HAH! You think you can waltz into Columbia University in the City of New York with an A- in Calculus?” The statue leaned out of her chair. “Foolish child. How dare you tarnish Columbia’s prestige with an A-! Mark my words, the rest of your time here will be a living hell!”
Since then, my sophomore year has been nothing but a nightmare. My advisor suggested that I switch to the Underwater Basket Weaving major because I struggle in math. I’ve been rejected from every research position and internship I’ve applied to; I knew that as soon as recruiters saw that A-, they threw my application in the trash. During syllabus week, several of my professors sent me an email suggesting I drop their class because I barely passed the calculus prerequisite.
My future is doomed, and I’m so unemployed I rival the Fed’s entire e-board. I’m thinking about transferring to Cornell, maybe even NYU. At least they’ll give me an easier time.
So yeah, to all freshmen: keep up that 4.0 GPA. Don’t ask me what happens if you get anything lower than an A-, because I haven’t seen my friend who got a B in Gen Chem since June of last year.
