The first time I went to college, I was shit faced drunk every day, rarely went to class, and never studied. Somehow I managed to graduate with a B minus average, but not until after a couple terms of D averages and academic probation.
The second time I went to college, I was in my late thirties and had a much better understanding of the money I was paying and the consequences of failing as I had become a single dad. I went to class every day, sat in the front row, asked questions, read all the textbooks, did all the homework, and got out with a perfect 4.0 through two years of undergrad work and a year and a half of grad work.
I was pretty proud of myself until I later realized that I have never been asked for my grade average from either school for any job ever.
My classmate's dad from my first stint was a county judge and would say to us, "What are you worried about? The main thing is to keep going. Don't stop. As to grades, C's get degrees."
The man was entirely correct.