My AP English teacher hands back the essays and walks slowly to stand at his pseudo-lectern. His disappointment is drawn in every body movement, every measured look of his eyes. Today is not going to be a good day.

The college ruled notebook paper of my essay seems particularly weary and flushed red today. It must have been out playing and needs rest. Poor paper; come to daddy. Let me see your report card.

The score: 3 out of 9 (based on the AP scoring rubric)

My reaction: holy crap, that’s a 33 percent. Now look at what he’s done. He’s ruined my image. I want to rip up my progeny like one of those child-abusing parents. I want to look away in disappointment, spank him hard.

Then, I glance over at the AP scoring rubric sitting, innocuously, adjacent to the essay. A few words pop out.

“lower-half …failed to address the topic… unpersuasive, perfunctory, underdeveloped…misguided…inaccurate…weak control…significant misinterpretations of the text, inadequate evidence”

I love constructive criticism. Thank goodness, all of this is hypothetical. My paper “may not have”. Truth is I’d spent two hours on making this baby, not the usual 40 minute time limit. My child was going to get his appropriate nutrition: Yoplait, good grammar, and proper pompous vocabulary.

Mr. Anthony (which is a pseudonym, just like the pseudo-lectern) then says one of the most inspirational things I have ever witnessed. He distinguishes between an 8 essay and the glorious 9 essay:
“People who obtain an 8 on their papers are taught. Those who receive a 9 are born. How can you tell who’s who? Those who truly write for enjoyment have the propensity to write essays that score 9 out of 9. Therefore, I can only get you to an 8.”

Ironically, this originally discouraging statement inspired me. Imagine. My paper has the “propensity to score a 9 out of 9”! This short law of nature—so simple—galvanized me.

Hell yeah, this child’s going to military school, then off to the next war. He’s a late bloomer is all.