Article February 24, 1968 Issue

Never Too Late

[For young adults]

HELENA GRONLUND ALLEN

When I was a junior in a large state university, there came a day when I said, "It's too late for God to help me."

I had just taken a midterm examination in one of the courses of my major field. Only two grades counted in the course—this midterm and the final examination. For the midterm the student was to analyze an excerpt from literature, decide, whether the piece had been written by Joseph Addison or Jonathan Swift, and justify his decision. It was not part of any selection that had ever been assigned, so the choice depended entirely upon the student's ability to analyze style.

If the student made the correct choice, he could receive a grade from an A down to a D; if he made the wrong choice, he would receive a failing grade, no matter how convincing his justifications were. After handing in my examination paper, I asked the instructor which choice was correct. I had made the wrong one.

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