Midway between the Striving and the Scoffing fall the Skippers. They are impressed by both extremes. Instead of going to 99% or 10% of their classes, they range in between, averaging in the vicinity of 60%. Every time they sleep through a lecture they resolve to become more systematic. But as soon as they get interested in a distracting activity, or idea, or single course, they throw off academic discipline cavalierly, pleased to be free-wheeling. In their secret hearts, they are unconvinced that the system is either all right or all wrong.

In some courses, they take copious notes; others they stop attending after the first meeting. They generally begin studying for exams late in the year, and enjoy it so much so they wish (a little) they had started earlier. Even as seniors, they have not settled on a pattern of studying, but Skip around erratically.

Characteristically, a Skipper has absolutely no idea of how he did on an exam when he finishes it. As often as not, he thinks he got an A when he got a D or vice versa. Most of his grades are incomprehensible to him; lowest, for instance in precisely the courses he likes the best and does the most work in. But on the other hand, some seem completely fair. So he concludes finally that "Marks are totally irrational!" Ask a Skipper about them and he will laugh and shrug. He doesn't know why some people get such consistent grades, or how he would go about improving his own.

If, for a time, he pursues either hard work or gimmicky cleverness exclusively, he inevitably fails in the end. He has probably not mastered either technique, but tried to Scoff through a rugged lower level Gen Ed course or Strive through creative writing.

Skippers' marks are always infinitely chaotic and variable. They range from groups 2 to 6 from semester to semester; from A to E in a single marking period. When a Skipper has his moments of success, he sees it as "good luck," a freak communion with a grader, an unexpected compliment. And when he happens to flunk out (with marks like two A's and two E's, his low marks do not faze him at all, since he thinks they are so crazy. He has a moderately unshakable estimate of his own intelligence and a measure of satisfaction with courses completely independent of grades. To his parents, a Skipper must be constantly explaining that his funny marks "don't mean anything."

Skippers choose courses for mixed motives, trying out professors or fields that seem appealing. They often change fields, and never stop wondering if they are in the wrong one. They feel vaguely wronged by the system, but are not positive it isn't their own fault. During reading period they are the most perplexed of all students; the most uncertain of what to do. And yet their confusion is not particularly painful. For the Skippers are more interested in choosing a way, in improvising and experimenting, than in succeeding in a chosen way. A cross between Hamlet and Charlie Brown, they are buffeted around by fate, and seem to live in a perpetual, half-serious identify crisis.

The system, expanded to its full glory at this time of year, is not kind to Skippers. It may be comfortable enough to Skip along all year, but when confronted with a ten foot brick wall of exams, logic and public opinion demand something more consistent. One should either try to Strive over the wall or Scoff around it, not simply bumble happily among the bricks.