School is hard - you have to read and write and go to the library during parties to cram for exams. And sometimes all that isn’t even enough to get you that highly coveted “A.”

WTF? What ever happened to an A for effort? Or extra credit? Or taking a bit of pity on the kids you know bust their asses but still just miss the “A”?

I can’t tell you how many times I worked my booty off only to get screwed by a curve or my uncanny ability to freak out before exams…and then bomb them. I would seriously do anything for an “A” somtimes. Anything.

This week I asked the CollegeCandy writers to weigh in and tell me what they’d do for an “A.” Surprisingly, sexual favors weren’t that high on the list. Either we are getting less desperate (because we don’t need to be), or professors are getting really old and unattractive…

Erica - Kent State: Can’t say I’d go as far as sexual favors, but I wouldn’t be too proud to do a little flirting. Hey, why else do they let/force young, attractive TA’s teach classes?

Kathryn S.: Go to office hours for extra help. Ugh. This sounds lame, but you don’t even know how much I hate office hours.

Kari – FSU: I would recite the starting line up of the Miami Dolphins, in song form, for my sports fanatic prof in front of a 300 person lecture. And I have (he later confessed that he couldn’t give me any actual extra credit). Read More »

Let’s just hope this stationary isn’t scratch and sniff….

Days as a Freshman: 88
Mood: Not good

“How long did you stay?” Rebecca threw a pair of socks into her suitcase and looked up from her underwear drawer. “Did you listen to their entire conversation?”

“I had to! I didn’t want Public Safety to know I was sitting there!” Standing by Stacey’s mirror, I poked around her jewelry, moving pairs of pearl earrings and fake diamond bracelets in an attempt to find a ring of mine that had disappeared a few weeks ago. Stacey was big on barrowing without asking.

“Did they talk for a long time?” Closing one drawer and opening another, Rebecca continued to pack her bag. She was leaving early for the Thanksgiving holiday, a fact I had not received well. Three whole days living in a room with Stacey by myself spelled absolute misery.

“The cop said they had heard about a party at the Soccer House the night before, but of course Sasha denied it.” A flash of jade stood out from the mess of cubic zirconium, and I carefully began to untangle my ring from one of Stacey’s cheap necklaces. “He got all mad at the cop. Said they were being unfair…staking the house out and stuff. He said it wasn’t politically correct.” Read More »