Still June 21st.  Perhaps my mistake was in trying to explain, no, it is not summer, summer starts on the 21st.  Or, expanding my essay on the “weather in my home town” to include unauthorized vocabulary about the relationship to agriculture (not appreciated, more red).  After class, my teachers need a few minutes of my time (never good).  Expulsion?  Seriously?  My teachers are kicking me out of 1.5, sending me 1.0, “for your own good”.  Has anyone ever said that to you when it actually was for “your” own good?  No.  But, I get it.  I am slowing the class down.  Can’t they just let me learn what I can?  I am not interfering.  I am like a slow golfer who knows that etiquette requires you to just pick up the ball and keep up the pace.  They are not having it.  Fortunately, this is the last day to drop the class and get my money back, which is exactly what I intend to do.  There is no way I am dropping this kind of moola (and 8 weeks of my life) to re-learn the alphabet.  Ma-a-salama!  You would think that by now I am so acquainted with failure that it runs off.  But no.  I am just sick over this.  Maybe the Director will listen to reason?  Maybe I can get into the other 1.5?  I get to my room, too overcome to go see him in person, so I write an email.  I now have 15 minutes to the deadline to drop.  What if he says no?  I write the withdrawal letter to the appropriate person, just in case.