Editor’s note: This article is a humor column.
Everyone remembers their first set of final grades. I know I do. As I write this, I’m currently applying for U.Va. in Ibiza, a summer abroad program that requires my transcript. That struck me as a little odd though, just because in Ibiza, I’m only required to take two 1000-level courses — but as a strung-out third-year, I’m in no position to complain.
In reviewing my Herculean efforts from first year and their translation into arbitrary letter grades on a computer screen, I was taken back to first year first semester when I received my first A-. Right now, I might have my Canvas notifications silenced and about a thousand Outlook emails to answer, but back then, I didn’t take a final grade like that so well — and I refused to be denied a chance to change it.
As my first finals week approached in my first year, I figured it was time to do a check-in on some of my grades. I painstakingly organized my computer into three split screens of Canvas, SIS and the RapidTables Grade Calculator, ready to spend the next several hours excruciatingly plugging in numbers to see what I needed on my finals to get straight A’s. But as I opened up the SIS grades page, I audibly gasped as an A- in my only class without a final stared back at me.
How on earth was a 93.4 even an A- in the first place? Not to mention, I had meticulously attended office hours in this class every eighth Wednesday. I was fairly sure my professor had a general idea of what my name was, and I had been scoring consistent 95s on my homework assignments. What could be the culprit behind this utterly unacceptable grade, in a class called Philosophy of Sports which was just supposed to be a break from my Economics courses?
And that’s when I saw it. Attendance and participation. I had received an 80. In the comments section, my professor had simply written “Not enough eye contact.” My reaction was complete shock — I’d been sure I fulfilled the two to three moments of deadlocking eyes as required on the syllabus!
My 4.0 was in jeopardy, so I had no time to waste. I burst into Professor Porter Stoutman’s office hours, queued up with a false story about my grandma breaking her leg and thoughts of sad puppies ready in my head in case I needed to spring up some tears.
Professor Stoutman listened to my plight carefully, and before I could even pull out the grandma story — which was a relief, because it would have been my grandma’s third broken leg this semester — he carefully turned his orange-and-blue tweed cap backwards. He agreed to round my grade.
However, there was one condition — I had to take him to the frats to help him relive his glory days of intense drinking, fragile masculinity and occasional hazing
I was a little thrown off. I was the last student I would have expected him to ask — if any – which I thought was obvious from my appreciation for online Pomodoro Timers and my tendency to stay in libraries until I was forced to leave. I had expected maybe an extra paper of some sort, but it seemed easy enough and didn't even cross any lines of professionalism. We set the date for Friday night.
On that fateful night, I shivered as I approached the Corner Bank of America — our designated meeting spot — and stopped in my tracks when I saw him. He hadn’t changed out of his button-up, khaki and pocket watch, but he had, for whatever reason, put on a TIE. Undeterred, I led him down Rugby Road and towards the only frat whose letters I knew, Kappa Wamma Damma.
Stoutman and I marched up to the front door, but were immediately halted by the imposing presence of a five-foot-one frat guy wearing flip-flops in December. He inquired whether I or “the old man” had DoorList. I, mistaking the app for being the SIS waitlist for classes, was swiftly turned away. The frat guy expressed some sympathy, telling me if I “wasn’t so locked in and more blonde” I probably would have been able to sneak in. Professor Stoutman, not having any apps at all outside of the Weather app on account of being a senior citizen, was also quickly rejected.
At this point, I was ready to give up and wave my perfect 4.0 goodbye. But Professor Stoutman wasn’t so easily defeated. Demonstrating more athletic prowess at 64 than I had in my entire life, Professor Stoutman leapt through the first floor window. I got caught in a bush in my trek to the windowsill, and, covered in leaves and minor wounds, I scampered through the window behind him.
Somehow in my delay to engage in parkour, I had lost Stoutman. Frantically looking around, my eyes finally locked on a bewildering sight. Professor Stoutman, with his tie around his head manning the DJ booth, one arm frat flicking high in the air. The other was slung around the DJ, who I assumed he did not know before considering the means we exercised to get in. He had accumulated a pair of sunglasses in the two seconds I had lost him. I watched as he descended into the masses to crowd surf to the beat drop of “Turn Down For What.”
I figured that Professor Stoutman would be fine — and watching him dap up students in the crowd was actually making me feel lame. Thus, I dove back out the window and began the chilly trek home.
The weekend went by with no word from Professor Stoutman, and Monday, he sent out a vague Canvas message cancelling class. Fear struck my heart — did “Turn Down for What” actually kill him? I was rescued from my well-warranted panic by an email notification in the late afternoon, and breathed a huge sigh of relief upon opening the message.
“Still hungover, LOL. Yuo get 100. Thakns for night out. Peace n love, Professor Stoutman.”
Read More
No more horsing around — three easy ways to bring hype back to men’s basketball
By Owen Andrews | January 15, 2025Perhaps as time passes and fan engagement grows, hype at JPJ could soar to the lofty heights currently occupied by the Virginia Cavaliers football team.
LEAKED — Anonymous contribution of existential thoughts gifted to U.Va. philosophy
By Adair Reid | January 13, 2025A memo leaked on Friday morning from the U.Va. Corcoran Department of Philosophy reported a massive anonymous contribution of existential thoughts.
Madison House to implement auditions instead of applications
By Nikitha Prabhu | January 6, 2025Madison House’s Board of Directors announced it would be implementing auditions instead of online applications for students interested in volunteering.
