I Made a 41
佚名 / Anonymous
Perhaps the only test score that I remember is the 41 when I was in high school. The class was taught by one of the two teachers that impacted me most， Mr. Bales. The other teacher was Mrs. Drew from the seventh grade. It’s amazing how I can remember from over 30 years ago my two most impacting teachers.
The eighth grade. It was a time when I， like most， didn’t know what I was to be in life. The drama of that time of youth was simply get through school and make the long walk home.
There are some things that will still be like the eighth grade when you get to be eighty.
The test was the final for the class. I remember anxiously waiting as Mr. Bales passed out test after test. It was a rather difficult test. I didn’t know how well I had done but I knew there were things on it that I didn’t know.
The air whooshed around the pages as it made a gentle sound plopping down. It was a rhythm as each student received their test—plop， plop， plop.
I heard groan after groan that accompanied the plops. I could tell by the groans that the grades weren’t looking good.
Mr. Bales dropped the stapled pages on my desk.
There in big red numbers， circled to draw attention， was my grade.
41！
Groan ！！！
I moved my paper where it wasn’t in plain view， a 41 was not something that you wanted your classmates to see.
After the final plop， Mr. Bales stood behind the worn desk that had stood guard over countless students before me. He addressed the none too jubilant class.
“The grades were not very good， none of you passed， so I will have to consider grading on a scale，” Mr. Bales announced.
“The highest grade in the class was a 41， so all of you flunked，” were the final words that I remember.
A 41. That’s me.
Suddenly my dismal looking final didn’t look quite so bad. There were at least 30 students in the class. I had the highest grade. I felt a whole lot better.