091748 - Epic Fail

EPIC FAIL!

I realized that college is much worse than high school. I just started my college education, and I felt that years had already passed because of the countless work I did within that time frame involving both academic and extracurricular activities. My first distressing experience in this odyssey was our first exam in Math 18A. The results were extremely terrible that I considered it as a nightmare, but my brain persistently told me that I am experiencing the real world of college.

July 13. The day before the exam. That day seemed to be foreboding. I got home late because of a meeting in an organization I had recently joined. Since I was really lazy that time, I decided to get a haircut instead of studying inequalities, polynomials, and other similar math topics that my brain could not comprehend. After getting my hair cut, I still refused to study and instead took a short nap because I was so exhausted by how long the day was. By the time I woke up, it was already past 10 o’clock P.M., so I immediately started studying math. I wanted to study for my exam the previous week or some other day instead of the day before the exam, but my schedule prevented me from doing so. During that week, I had a lot of general assemblies to attend for my organizations, plenty of homework to do, and an arrangement for our first field trip in our organization during the weekend that I forgot all about the math exam. By the time I got to the middle of the first chapter of the book, my body was struck with laziness. I then began to ponder that my math abilities diminished after the untimely haircut just like when Delilah cut Samson’s hair, the source of his power. At that time, I was really hoping that when I woke up I would become a genius in Math just for one day.

July 14. The day of the exam. I went to school early so I could cram all the information I needed for my test before classes start. Because my brain seemed to be powerless during that time, I did not manage to memorize all of the formulas and equations needed for the test. I asked some of my classmates to review the difficult lessons for me, but I found out that they did not even bother to study the day before just like me. I felt quite pleased that I was not the only one who would suffer these one and a half hours of excruciating torture. I felt that the more we were, the merrier it would be.

We entered the classroom. I felt like I had entered the gates of hell itself.

The teacher distributed the test papers. I skimmed through the test, and my head instantly went dizzy. The test consisted only of nine items, but the total score was worth 100 points. My hand was shaking when I wrote my name on the paper. I read the first item. I did not understand it. Was it written in a foreign language? I started answering and wrote as many solutions as I could to merit partial points even though I did not know what on earth my hand was scribbling. I really had no idea how to answer the questions, so I just let fate decide on what my fortune would be. After 30 minutes, I glanced around the classroom to see my classmates’ reactions. Most of them were in despair. They were probably the ones who did not study. I met the eyes of one of my classmates. He signaled a thumbs-down to me. I also responded with the same gesture. The feeling was mutual. We knew that we were going to fail this exam badly.

Time was up. I looked at my paper for the last time before passing it to the teacher. My classmates were all silent when I exited the room. One of my classmates suggested that we should never discuss the test during that day; we all agreed. The math exam was like a taboo in conversations during that day. It would most likely reignite the feeling of pain suffered in the math exam.

July 27. Armageddon. The teacher started the class with his long winding speech on how disappointed he was because of the disgusting results of the exam. The average grade of the class was F. We were not surprised. It was obviously expected. The test results were only shown and not returned, so we got to line up to know our grades. I got mine, and my paper stared at me hideously, petrifying me like Medusa’s snake hair. My score was 50 out of 100.

I was in a state of acute shock, remembering my obtuse behavior just the day before the math exam. Why did destiny try to intersect me with sloth? It seemed that hard work was not tangential with me. That was my lowest point for the week on the line graph. I was the median of the class. All of my wrongdoings reciprocated in this spacious plane we live in.

My classmates informed me that I got a passing score. It was some sort of consolation. I should have jumped for joy that time, but I did not. I regretted not studying for the exam. I got a passing score even if I did not study well. I could have gotten a much better score if only I studied harder. I compared my score with my other classmates. Most of the scores ranged from 30 to 50. The highest score was 88. I asked my classmate who got that score, and he said to me that he only studied a little for the exam. I got jealous because I felt it was unfair that some people are gifted while some people need to study hard.

Since the results were an epic failure, the teacher was compelled to give us a make-up class and a make-up exam this July 28 and July 30, respectively. I have now learned my lesson. College is entirely different from high school. It is all serious business. I must not take it for granted because my performance in college will partly determine where my future lies. On July 30, I shall return with a vengeful spirit. I have to focus physically, mentally and even spiritually. I really hope this time that things will be an epic win.