An Open Letter To The Teacher Who Gave Me A “D” On The Essay I Wrote For My Son
Dear Mrs. Tresmal:
I am writing this letter in the hope of bringing some much-needed vindication for the oppressed students of the unimaginative, soul-sucking world you call your classroom. When my son brought home his graded essay on the works of e. e. cummings (that is the proper formatting of the poet’s name) that you so callously marked as D work, I was personally and deeply insulted. The incredible amount of time and effort put into writing what I strongly feel is at least B+ work was unjustly rendered mediocre with one swipe of your malicious red pen.
This D looms over my family with an unimaginable weight. Though Jeremy was happy to receive a passing grade despite your nearly impossible assignment expectations, this has been a harsh lesson for him — indeed, a harsh lesson for us all. The image of me sitting hunched over his laptop working tirelessly to meet your outlandish requirements would probably haunt him forever had he not spent most of that time decompressing in our media room. The stress of your assignment triggered Jeremy’s performance anxiety. In fact, he was so distraught by the situation, he had to retreat to a friend’s house for the rest of the evening so he could unwind. To find out a week later that we received only subpar markings for my tremendous effort is a…
