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Back in 2001 I was a freshman in architecture school. We had to take art history in this big dark auditorium, which was not super helpful when your major regularly denies you sleep.

I learned that I typed faster than I wrote, and could also do so with my eyes closed, so this 300 person class was punctuated by the clicking and clacking of my keyboard (one of my classmates decided he could skip lectures and just buy my notes from me, so profit).

One day after a particularly brutal all nighter my eyes closed a little too much and I woke up to twelve pages of lower case W’s.

Hard same! 1998, two years of mandatory art history in a darkened lecture hall, with the hum of the ancient slide projector and the elderly instructors droning voice. I would fall asleep immediately, but I _had_ to pass the class. I had two friends who sat on either side and would kick me every few minutes to wake up. My notebook was full of sentences where the writing becomes progressively less coherent until it becomes a single line drifting down the page, punctuated by a sharp tick upwards when a friend kicked me.

I passed that class with a "D" — and when I told my advisor that I thought it was a pity grade, she informed me that a "C" is a pity grade — professors who give "D" to athletes looking for easy grades to keep their GPA up end up having the students come back. If you don't want them back, you give them a "C".

So I _earned_ that D!

@spaceninja
I believe you mean
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@BennyTheIcepick lol