According to the Asian Stereotype, my grades matter. More than most other things, even. The proverbial ‘Asian F’ was set at a 93. My grandmother on the Chinese side thought I had to pass an entrance exam for kindergarten, and so I was taught multiplication and division at the age of four. By six, I knew the periodic table alongside 80% of regents Chemistry. I was bullied in first grade and didn’t notice because the second graders couldn’t understand the same concepts I mastered. My spelling words included ‘bioluminescence’ where their words were ‘frog’ and ‘mouse’. In third grade I began learning the violin from someone who had begun 3 months prior. I eclipsed him in three years and he arranged the band music so I had my own part. In seventh grade, I took an online math course because all two of my classmates failed the exact same test on combining like terms 14 weeks in a row. I changed schools so I’d have actual teachers rather than being practically homeschooled with online courses. That didn’t last, senior year I spent more time on my computer for online computer science classes than for the courses I was in the building for. My ah ma to this day has declared I am not allowed to have a girlfriend because they will distract me from my studies. I must obtain my Masters degree before dating. *Obviously,* this means I have to enroll in a 5-year masters program and overload my courses to finish it in four. The alternative is fleeing to California or Florida because she’s stuck in Canada.