Silly Kids, Grades Are for Suckers

I was in my community college photography class Thursday night. There was a returned assignment sitting on my desk when I arrived, a 2-page essay that we were to write on an art piece or series of pieces by one artist that we found in a museum or gallery. There's ALWAYS a written assignment.
Me, being slightly nerdy, was more than happy to write an essay.

After all, I hadn't been given a decent written assignment since my Banana Slug days.

The score on the paper said 30, circled in red. There weren't any comments, just the number. I didn't know the amount of possible points, but hey, I wasn't worried about a GPA here.

After all, I hadn't been worried about a GPA since my high school days {Thank you UCSC's narrative evaluation system).

I then proceeded to go look closer at the photos that were being critiqued that night. A friend, Trudy, asked what I got on the essay.
I answered with a question: "How many points was it out of?"
She replied, "Twenty."
Oh. I turned around and tried to figure out, did I see the number correctly? Was there a three before the zero? Could I have really received 50% extra credit??
Trudy reached out to get my essay, seeing that I had avoided her question. I tried to be modest and say, "Nah. I just got a score."

After all, I hadn't feigned modesty when I scored since one long evening in a Santa Cruz apartment years ago.

Trudy pried, "Let me just see it. I'm going to find out anyway."
I handed it over. After all, she's a cool woman and would take a quiet peek.
Caroline, friend and neighbor, looked over to see.
"He got a thirty!" Trudy blurted out.
The 18 year old NRA member walked over to see. I turned around and faced forward. Milagro, 40 yr old female classmate, asked to see. I focused on my proofsheets to see what I would be working on later in the darkroom.
Class started, and the instructor informed us all that he would be taking a few assignments late, including the critique. He emphasized that it was an important assignment due to its maximum 20 points.
The gun toter raised her hand and asked at the same time, "How come you gave 30 points to someone?"
I looked down at my proofsheet. The teacher replied, "Because the critique was very well written."
Now, all I did was what he asked for: write a 1-2 page essay, giving a critique on an art piece. He wanted us to describe the pieces, making it possible for him to see them in his mind. I took thorough notes when I went to the Long Beach We're-Trying Art Museum, thorough enough that I could visualize them when I returned home to write the piece on my computer.
Milagro spoke up, her serious voice taking a swoop past my head, "Yeah. Why did someone get extra credit? I think those extra points should be distributed with the rest of the class."
She was serious, and my proofsheets looked better than ever. The instructor gave a similar reply.
Later that night in the photo lab, I received a couple of glares from students. Milagro didn't speak to me at all for the rest of the evening.
It's not like there was a grading curve I messed with. But for Milagro's case, I guess I took away some of the instructor's graciousness, leaving nothing left for other students.
I spoke with Trudy and Caroline, sharing how ridiculous some of our classmates were acting. I rolled my eyes and shook my head, and they agreed. Trudy said I should be proud of the job I did, and not feel bad because others didn't do as well. I reminded them, the funny thing was I'm taking this class for fun, not for the grade.

After all, I hadn't mentioned my grade's lack of importance since I entered class that evening.