It is as if it was a joke of fate.
Professor B., probably the worst professor I ever had, died one day after the
death of my favorite professor. The best and the worst professors I've ever had, passed away one day apart.
No, it's not the fact that he does not teach that makes him the worst, not even the fact that he parrots the book in class - that's common with professors. It was the fact that he gave me a ridiculous grade beyond human logic and comprehension.
When I requested for a recomputation, he didn't even bother to read my request. All I wanted was fairness. I didn't even want to pass if I wasn't deserving. I just wanted to know how he came up with a grade that is lower than the price you pay for three bags of Chippy when I submitted all the requirements for his subject.
The grade that he gave caused me a lot of trouble. The average that I was maintaining plunged like a crashing airplane. I lost my momentum. I was really hurt. I had to pick up the pieces of my broken dreams and piece them back painfully together again.
Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months, time passed by. It is true what they say,
time heals.
Sir B., it is unfortunate that I did not get to know you better. I regret that my impression of you was not as you might have really deserved. I know you were just doing your job, I understand. You had your own style. But come to think of it, looking at the brighter side, that experience made me realize I can take failures in a grand way.
There are no more hard feelings. I have been healed of the pain and I have forgiven what needs to be forgiven a long time ago. I am happy now.
Sir, God bless you. May you rest in peace.
