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"College as explained to me in high school" vs. "College as experienced firsthand"

  • In high school they told us:

    There will be no grades in a class except the midterm and the final, so you have to study hard because failing one test means you fail the class.

  • Once I was in college a professor said:

    Hey, you guys are working really hard on your third paper, so I'm just going to cancel the final and give everyone a hundred on it.

  • In high school they told us:

    In college, class always begins exactly at the scheduled start time. If your class is at 9 AM and you get there at 9:01, the doors will be locked and you'll be out of luck, especially if it's the day of the midterm or final, because then you get a zero.

  • Once I was in college a professor said:

    Does anyone mind if I start class at 3:35 instead of 3:30? These elevators are really slow and I want to have time for a cigarette before I teach for 90 minutes.

  • In high school they told us:

    Every class you miss drops you a full letter grade in college courses.

  • Once I was in college almost every professor said:

    You can miss three classes without a penalty, and a few more if you have a Doctor's note. Sorry to be a hardass, but you automatically fail if you miss more than ten days of class.

  • In high school they told us:

    If you do have papers, your professors just lecture and put the assignments on the syllabus. You're completely responsible for remembering the deadlines, they won't remind you. All your professors will do is lecture and the rest is up to you.

  • Once I was in college a professor said:

    Okay, so your next paper is in two weeks! I'll keep reminding you in the interim, but I just want to make sure you have enough time to do it! Let's run through the structure I want to see real quick, and if you have any questions, feel free to email me or come to my office hours!

  • In high school they told us:

    You have to use MLA formatting and if you make any mistakes in your citations, it'll be considered plagiarism. You'll be expelled and probably sued.

  • Once I was in college almost every professor said:

    Please do not use MLA, it is awful, we use either APA or Chicago here because we are not 14 years old.

  • In high school they told me:

    There is no excuse for an absence. NONE.

  • In college I called a professor and said:

    I'm really, really, really sorry but it's -18 before windchill and I have to walk two miles to get to class.

  • The professor said:

    You stay inside and stay safe. Here's what we're reading today. I'll quiz you next week and if you can get a 90% I'll mark you present. I know you live off-campus, do you have food?

  • In high school they told me:

    Your advisor is just for academia, not personal problems.

  • In college my advisor called me:

    Are you okay? I haven't seen you in class in two weeks and I know you have depression. I can drop off your work if you'd like. Please call me and tell me how you're doing even if you can't get to class.

  • In high school they told me:

    Don't argue. You think this is bad, wait til college.

  • In college all but one of my professors said:

    You wanna argue, do it in a civil manner. We didn't get here today without 5000 years of healthy debate.





*crashing down*


omg no

When Sherlock brought Batjohn to a crime scene for the first time, it turned out to have been one of his worst - or maybe best - ideas he ever had.

It weren’t the weird looks the little bat got, and it weren’t the insults directed towards Sherlock that made Batjohn cry. It was something even worse than that.

Batjohn had been injured during the time he spent in the forest and that had resulted in a nasty hole in his left wing. He had grown used to it but it still hurt when other people or animals said something bad about it.

“Look at how useless he is,” a police woman called Sally sneered. “Such an ugly wing. I know you’re a freak, Sherlock, but I wouldn’t have thought you’d keep such a… a thing.”

Sherlock growled. Batjohn’s lower lip started to tremble. He felt useless already, and his little heart ached even more now.

“Seriously, Holmes,” a man called Anderson said. “He’s not worth it.”

That was enough for the little bat. One tear rolled down his cheek, then another one. He couldn’t stand it anymore although he tried to be strong and brave, but he was broken as it was and then decided to leave the scene. He hopped of Sherlock’s shoulder, flapping helplessly with his wings to fly away which proved to be difficult with the hole in them.

Sherlock shouted at both Anderson and Donovan, and not nice things at all. Then he ran after Batjohn, cupping the little and slow bat gently in his hands and pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head.

“You’re beautiful, John. And you are worth everything.”

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