It can happen to you on any day. It might be mild and sunny, innocently filling the usually bleak and concrete compound with false hope. You hop off the bus, feeling uncharacteristically optimistic. Maybe you even had more than five hours of sleep the night before. You walk into class like:
You’re sitting in your first class and you’ve got a quiz, but no problem, you think you studied enough. Plus, you’re feeling good today. What could possibly go wrong?
Tests are handed out, and you have no idea what the question wants from you. No matter, you’ll just skip to the next one and come back
when your standards are lower when you’ve had time to settle into rhythmic test-writing beast mode. Moving on!
The next six questions rely on the answer to the first question. Part marks may not even save you now.
Panic ensues. Suddenly the only sounds you hear in the room are the movements of everyone else’s pencils calmly scratching out the answers you don’t know, your frantically beating heart, and your mental wellbeing collapsing around you.
While you mindlessly scribble out half-formed thoughts you’re not even sure are legible English, your mind is flitting between imagining various scenarios that would get you out of this room safely while destroying any evidence of your feeble attempts to write this now-cursed manuscript.
When the time runs out, you’ve run through all five stages of grief and are too exhausted to feel anything anymore.
You decide that it’s time to bid this day a hearty FAREWELL and hide yourself and your shame in a pile of guilty indulgences.
For me, it happened during an Accounting quiz on inventory valuation (and also the Stats midterm but let’s please never talk about that again.) But hey, apparently it happens to all of us at some point, and it gets better! Next year we’ll be able to look back and marvel at all of our wild accomplishments and emerge into the professional world like: