The Psych Honours bush telegraph was working overtime the night before the results were released. Some of us, myself included, were not entirely certain whether the results were being released the next day. Thanks to an appeal on Facebook to anyone with reliable information it was confirmed. My countdown of the days to go had dwindled to the mere hours remaining.
I was, and am, proud of all that I have learned at uni this year but I was still unsure as to what my final grade would be. I chose to go into uni to find out. I did have the option of ringing up but I wanted to get my results in person; the prospect of listening to the engaged tone or Mazurka on repeat was not inviting. More importantly, it just wouldn't have felt right to be told over the phone. After a session on the piano to relax I began my drive to uni. Even though I had left late on purpose, to my dismay I still managed to arrive at uni half an hour before the results were due to be released! That was a first, being disgruntled by a 'dream run' into uni.
When I made my way to the psychology department the corridors were eerily quiet. I began to wonder if I had gotten the day and time mixed up after all. I spied some signs of life further up the corridor and stopped to talk to a fellow Honours student and a faculty member. The student had just received their results, and the faculty member knew mine, but I didn't!! The student very kindly waited outside the co-ordinator's office for me for moral support as I knocked on the door and walked in. I was praying for an 85 (a first), or a high second class honours to give me a fighting chance of getting an interview for a postgraduate program but I was not prepared for what I was about to hear. My overall grade and my mark for my thesis were both 91. I remember repeatedly saying 'wow!' I think I was in shock, I was even trembling slightly. As I walked back down the corridor to chat with the student and some faculty members, it began to sink in, I had gotten a first, a first higher than what I could have imagined in my wildest daydreams. I was ridiculously happy.
Having shared my good news with my supervisor, who of course already knew, I visited a couple of people on campus who wanted to know how I had fared and then began the drive home, smiling all the way. I tried, but mostly failed, to adopt a neutral expression as I walked in the front door to tell my parents the news. I didn't leave them waiting very long. They were ecstatic and very proud. Not long after I arrived home, a text message arrived from my friend. Sadly, we hadn't been able to find out our results together, but to my delight I discovered that she had done brilliantly.
The texts flew back and forth to family overseas that night and to the people closer to home who had followed my journey this year. I went out to dinner with my family to celebrate. Finding out my year 12 results was a great experience, but learning of my Honours' result was something else entirely.
I was, and am, proud of all that I have learned at uni this year but I was still unsure as to what my final grade would be. I chose to go into uni to find out. I did have the option of ringing up but I wanted to get my results in person; the prospect of listening to the engaged tone or Mazurka on repeat was not inviting. More importantly, it just wouldn't have felt right to be told over the phone. After a session on the piano to relax I began my drive to uni. Even though I had left late on purpose, to my dismay I still managed to arrive at uni half an hour before the results were due to be released! That was a first, being disgruntled by a 'dream run' into uni.
When I made my way to the psychology department the corridors were eerily quiet. I began to wonder if I had gotten the day and time mixed up after all. I spied some signs of life further up the corridor and stopped to talk to a fellow Honours student and a faculty member. The student had just received their results, and the faculty member knew mine, but I didn't!! The student very kindly waited outside the co-ordinator's office for me for moral support as I knocked on the door and walked in. I was praying for an 85 (a first), or a high second class honours to give me a fighting chance of getting an interview for a postgraduate program but I was not prepared for what I was about to hear. My overall grade and my mark for my thesis were both 91. I remember repeatedly saying 'wow!' I think I was in shock, I was even trembling slightly. As I walked back down the corridor to chat with the student and some faculty members, it began to sink in, I had gotten a first, a first higher than what I could have imagined in my wildest daydreams. I was ridiculously happy.
Having shared my good news with my supervisor, who of course already knew, I visited a couple of people on campus who wanted to know how I had fared and then began the drive home, smiling all the way. I tried, but mostly failed, to adopt a neutral expression as I walked in the front door to tell my parents the news. I didn't leave them waiting very long. They were ecstatic and very proud. Not long after I arrived home, a text message arrived from my friend. Sadly, we hadn't been able to find out our results together, but to my delight I discovered that she had done brilliantly.
The texts flew back and forth to family overseas that night and to the people closer to home who had followed my journey this year. I went out to dinner with my family to celebrate. Finding out my year 12 results was a great experience, but learning of my Honours' result was something else entirely.
91 is now my favourite number.