How ( Not) To Become An Honor Student

Two nights ago, I had another weird dream. In it I was a senior college student expecting to graduate with honors. This was the scene. My face looked pallid. Sequins of beads of nervous sweat adorned it. I was staring at the final grade report printed on a yellowish onion skin clipped between the thumb and forefinger of my right hand. I crumpled the report and tossed it listlessly into the trash bin. It missed. Or, should say, I missed? Couldn’t care less, I walked out, left the crumpled paper lying on the floor, beside the bin. Then a fat man who walked like a shivering penguin picked up the crumpled paper. He was my English teacher in high school. He unfolded the paper. This was a dream; so, it was all right that when he un-crumpled the paper it appeared like it was iron-pressed, no trace of crease. He read aloud what was written on the paper: “Plant Design – 1.25, OJT – 1.25, Optimization Methods – 1.00, English IV, NR.” At this time I was already face to face with my high school English teacher. I knew NR meant No Report or failure due to absence. “What happened … didn’t I teach you well?” he asked, like he was about to cry. He was always like that. Defiantly, I replied, screaming: “I didn’t even know I enrolled English IV!” It was at this point that I woke up, with a nervous chuckle. Still lying on my bed, I was flabbergasted realizing that a similar dream had invaded my sleep some days back. In the previous dream, as far as I could recall, a lady professor announced the names of honor graduates. My name was not in the list. When I inquired about the non-inclusion of my name in the list, this was what she said: “You failed in English!” I answered back: “I don't remember I enrolled in that class!”