There I was, sitting at a random desk in a quiet library or study lounge, if not an empty classroom, studying for the upcoming exam. Trying desperately to condense weeks, or at least several days, of study into less than a half hour; hell, a few minutes; is more like it. The exam, our first major one to represent about a third or fourth of our final grade, was set to start in that short amount of time and what a damn fool I was for getting myself into such a situation. The stress I put on myself by literally putting it off till the last minutes was an absolute dread. I had a good relationship with the teacher (Eugenio) and I knew I could give myself some extra time by showing up a little late, but those thoughts were hardly a relief.
It was a college student’s nightmare as I sat there anxiously speed-reading not mere notes but questions and answers from a practice test I got from a classmate. I didn’t even have my own study guide, at least not with me at the time when it really mattered. Not that theirs was helping me much. I was retaining facts, yeah; I think it was some kind of political history class; but ultimately trying to accomplish a task that was quite improbable, especially if the actual exam didn’t include the same questions as I feared it wouldn’t. Even if it did, passing was going to be a long shot, but I was determined to give it that shot, at the risk of disappointing not only myself but a teacher who seemed to genuinely root for me.
2016 January 06