This last class is a pain-in-the-ass. Really. I'm sure it's valuable information and I might use it some day (doubt it), and if I had taken this course a year ago I would be more into it. But this is the last class for my Master's degree and I have senior-itus so bad even the the lull of a good night's sleep away from home barely makes up for my utter boredom with school. It's only five weeks: I should be able to focus and do more homework for only five more weeks... right? Come on, Terena, you can do it. You can write another paper and read another chapter and retain a little bit of what you learn. This is it! No more classes after this one. Don't give up now.
And then the one motivating thought that could cut through the haze of school fatigue trumpeted loudly in my brain: don't mess up your 4.0 in the last class you have to take.
Right now, I have a 4.0. I usually don't care about that, I mean really, are any potential employers going to check my GPA? I doubt it. So who cares, right? But for some bizarre reason that I can't fathom, I suddenly care a great deal about maintaining my 4.0 in grad school. I started caring when I decided to walk in the graduation ceremony next June. I didn't walk for my BA. The school sent my diploma in the mail. This time, I want to wear a gown and that silly square hat with the tassel and walk with my classmates up to the stage to get my diploma in front of my family and a few thousand strangers. And if I have a 4.0, I get some kind of acknowledgment for that, like a sticker or a gold chord on my gown.
Again, I have to wonder why this is suddenly so important to me. A sticker? I'm going to bust my ass in this final class for a sticker?
Yes. Yes I am.