The Aftermath: It's 11 AM and I'm in my underpants. I'm home alone. The TV is on but I'm not watching it. Even though I've cued up a show on the DVR that I've been dying to watch. Even though the volume is most of the way up. I can't focus on it. I can't commit. I'm not here.
The dust has finally settled. The noise is gone. The stress has melted and even the lingering cool water of the aftermath has begun to evaporate. I'm in a new place, enjoying the fruits of my hard work. And by that I mean sitting in my underpants in the living room and eating Oreos at 11 AM. I'm gloriously unburdened and reveling in the temporary wonderment of it all. It's glorious. It's miraculous.
The Oreos are double stuffed and I am unflappable.
I took my last final almost two weeks ago ((Day 84) and, if I'm being honest, I was only vaguely engaged. I had gotten over the most difficult hurdle and had already breathed my sigh of relief and begun to relax, despite the fact that there was still work to be done. I studied nonetheless and showed up to campus to had breakfast and center myself beforehand.
I showed up a few minutes early and only about half the class was there. Exam time came and a number of students were still missing. The TA cleared her throat. "We'll wait a few more minutes and then we'll begin." By the time the exam started, three students were still MIA. I finished early and left the room. Exiting the building, I passed one of the missing students rushing on their way to the exam. "I overslept!" he said. I kept walking.
When I decided to leave college more than a decade ago, I felt awful about my decision until I walked out of the Wilbur Cross building. At that moment, the clouds parted, the sun came out in full force, and I couldn't help but smile. I don't believe in signs but, at the time, it sure felt like one. I held on to the memory of that moment for years, recalling it whenever doubt began creeping in about my decision to leave school.
This day, I earned a new memory.
I walked outside, grinning ear to ear. The campus was still littered with sleep-deprived ill-tempered students but I could care less. My book bag felt lighter. The sun seemed a little brighter. I walk/danced over to the library smiling at strangers like an insane person. I got halfway up the stairs before it occurred to me that I had nothing left to do there. I went up anyone, skipping stairs along the way.
I was done.
Q: "So, how'd you do?"
A: Straight B's.
So, I earned a 3.0. Hooray for me! Right? Well... mostly.
On the one hand, I'm very happy with that outcome. I worked hard and earned above average marks in every one of my classes. 15 credits worth of B's is not a bad showing for my first semester back after over a decade away. But on the other hand, I'm a little disappointed with myself. I expected to blow the doors off the semester and walk away with a helpless 4.0 wriggling in my merciless bloody maw.
I think now that I'm back in the swing of things (read: acclimated [read: fully matriculated]) next semester will be easier. And by "easier" I mean that I'm entirely comfortable setting the bar higher than 3.0
In just a few weeks, I'll be starting summer course work and, shortly after that, fall course work. And I 'll blog the whole bloody mess. I promise. Because, honestly, I can't help myself.
For now, though, I've got Oreos to eat. And bunny slippers on my feet. And something else that rhymes with sleep.
And something else that rhymes with sleep.
Until the summer, gang...
#onedown
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
Finals Week: Prep Work
Day 80: I woke up this morning nervous, scattered, swatting at the alarm clock. My eyes were glued shut. My tongue was a dead wet thing. I yawned and rubbed my eyes, hoping that it was Monday and not Tuesday.
It was Tuesday.
I stuffed my notes and textbooks into my bag and headed out the door.
Campus was the same strange version of itself that it had been the day before; students studying, weeping, wandering in a daze, the air thick with tension and worry. I avoided the library and headed for the Student Union instead, hoping that it would be less... theatrical.
A young woman sat near me, wrenched open her laptop, and began reading things aloud.
"Ok one... one fiiiiifty-three... ok terminal point... and the modifier... ok ok .... wait... wait what about... oh there it is, there it is. Whew! Ok... ok ok..."
She never completed a sentence or an idea, just spouted sentence fragments into the ether, hoping, perhaps, that they'd instigate something helpful. Every now and then, she'd look up from her laptop, scowling, her eyes darting around the room.
I changed seats.
I was staring down the most difficult of my three exams. I had been to class (all of them), done my homework, and studied hard. Very hard. And, still, I felt entirely unprepared. The day before, I had gone to two Final Exam reviews for this class. This particular class is a survey course comprised of 25 sections of about 20-25 kids a piece, so I arrived early hoping to beat the rush. Including myself, there were 4 kids there. Four. As in 1-2-3-4.
For those of you playing the at-home game, that's less than 1% of the total population of students.
The absence of the other students was so profound, I had trouble concentrating. I kept thinking, "Am I in the right review? Is this for MY class?" One of the four of us there wore headphones nearly the entire time.
The instructor for the review scribbled things on the white board and declared things in the nonsense language that I was to be tested on less than 24 hours hence. I was nervous and wrote everything down. And then a strange thing happened. He got something wrong. I pointed it out and, after a few seconds, he apologized and sheepishly erased and rewrote the example.
And then it happened again. And again. And AGAIN.
I stopped being subtle about pointing out his errors and, instead, showed him my work. The other students began shifting in their seats. I started giving unsolicited advice on how to more simply solve some of the problems. The students started asking me questions directly. The instructor turned a shade of red I'd never seen before.
The kid with headphones finally took out his notebook when he realized that the session was nearly over and, of course, by then, it was much too late. We packed our things and wished one another luck on the exam. I thanked the instructor on the way out the door.
"You don't need luck," he said. "You're more ready than I am."
Despite the fact that he was probably (read: demonstrably) right, I went to another review session that evening, this one hosted by the professor. A couple hundred kids (240+) showed up this time. The room thrummed and buzzed with scuffling feet and sidebar conversations. After about an hour, most of the students began packing and leaving, one by one. 90 minutes in, the group was reduced to about 75 kids. The questions became much more specific and practical. Without the din of the departed disinterested students, everything was clearer. Students tapped one another on the shoulder and explained things. The professor smiled more.
All too soon, the professor looked over her glasses and asked, "I think that's it. Are there any other questions?"
We rose and left.
30 minutes before the exam, a few students began to gather outside the door. 15 minutes before the exam, there was a chattering mob. 3 minutes before the exam, the professor arrived, flanked by TA's carrying boxes. I jumped up from my seat on the floor and pulled the door open for them. The prof smiled at me.
10 minutes later, I was face-to-face with the exam. 90 minutes after that, I was done.
I wouldn't face another exam for two more days but I went to the library anyway. I took my time walking, reviewing what had just happened, asking myself over and over if I had done my best, if there wasn't something else that I could or should have done. "I did my best," I said aloud and smiled, because it was true.
I had done the best that I could do.
It was Tuesday.
I stuffed my notes and textbooks into my bag and headed out the door.
Campus was the same strange version of itself that it had been the day before; students studying, weeping, wandering in a daze, the air thick with tension and worry. I avoided the library and headed for the Student Union instead, hoping that it would be less... theatrical.
A young woman sat near me, wrenched open her laptop, and began reading things aloud.
"Ok one... one fiiiiifty-three... ok terminal point... and the modifier... ok ok .... wait... wait what about... oh there it is, there it is. Whew! Ok... ok ok..."
She never completed a sentence or an idea, just spouted sentence fragments into the ether, hoping, perhaps, that they'd instigate something helpful. Every now and then, she'd look up from her laptop, scowling, her eyes darting around the room.
I changed seats.
I was staring down the most difficult of my three exams. I had been to class (all of them), done my homework, and studied hard. Very hard. And, still, I felt entirely unprepared. The day before, I had gone to two Final Exam reviews for this class. This particular class is a survey course comprised of 25 sections of about 20-25 kids a piece, so I arrived early hoping to beat the rush. Including myself, there were 4 kids there. Four. As in 1-2-3-4.
For those of you playing the at-home game, that's less than 1% of the total population of students.
The absence of the other students was so profound, I had trouble concentrating. I kept thinking, "Am I in the right review? Is this for MY class?" One of the four of us there wore headphones nearly the entire time.
The instructor for the review scribbled things on the white board and declared things in the nonsense language that I was to be tested on less than 24 hours hence. I was nervous and wrote everything down. And then a strange thing happened. He got something wrong. I pointed it out and, after a few seconds, he apologized and sheepishly erased and rewrote the example.
And then it happened again. And again. And AGAIN.
I stopped being subtle about pointing out his errors and, instead, showed him my work. The other students began shifting in their seats. I started giving unsolicited advice on how to more simply solve some of the problems. The students started asking me questions directly. The instructor turned a shade of red I'd never seen before.
The kid with headphones finally took out his notebook when he realized that the session was nearly over and, of course, by then, it was much too late. We packed our things and wished one another luck on the exam. I thanked the instructor on the way out the door.
"You don't need luck," he said. "You're more ready than I am."
Despite the fact that he was probably (read: demonstrably) right, I went to another review session that evening, this one hosted by the professor. A couple hundred kids (240+) showed up this time. The room thrummed and buzzed with scuffling feet and sidebar conversations. After about an hour, most of the students began packing and leaving, one by one. 90 minutes in, the group was reduced to about 75 kids. The questions became much more specific and practical. Without the din of the departed disinterested students, everything was clearer. Students tapped one another on the shoulder and explained things. The professor smiled more.
All too soon, the professor looked over her glasses and asked, "I think that's it. Are there any other questions?"
We rose and left.
30 minutes before the exam, a few students began to gather outside the door. 15 minutes before the exam, there was a chattering mob. 3 minutes before the exam, the professor arrived, flanked by TA's carrying boxes. I jumped up from my seat on the floor and pulled the door open for them. The prof smiled at me.
10 minutes later, I was face-to-face with the exam. 90 minutes after that, I was done.
I wouldn't face another exam for two more days but I went to the library anyway. I took my time walking, reviewing what had just happened, asking myself over and over if I had done my best, if there wasn't something else that I could or should have done. "I did my best," I said aloud and smiled, because it was true.
I had done the best that I could do.
Monday, May 6, 2013
Finals Week: The Student Body
Day 79: I arrived on campus at my normal time and immediately noticed a difference. As I usually do on exam days, I drove past the fire station (for luck). Most mornings, there are handful of joggers and strollers, women with their hair tied back, chubby men with noisy strides, and the like. This morning, there was no one. Things were so desolate, I double checked the date on my phone to be sure I hadn't shown up on a Sunday:
Mon, May 6, 2013
I parked and noticed the garage was conspicuously bare as well. I easily got a spot near the door and, again, checked my phone, sure that I had arrived on campus extra early:
7:58 AM
A few groups of people wandered the campus in packs, similar to the tour groups that began popping up a few months ago but comprised of much older folk. An older woman in one of the groups smiled at me, her lips parting on a yellowing set of uneven teeth.I got the feeling that she knew something that I didn't. I did my best to smile back.
I ate breakfast in a strangely deserted Student Union, now slightly nervous, now checking the date and time on my phone every few minutes, now double and triple checking the exam schedule. To calm myself a little, I browsed my news/blog feeds. When I looked up a few moments later, the place was packed - PACKED! - with students, silent, eager, desperately sweating students.
Two young men stared at their textbooks then at one another. "Lambda equals h over p," one of the young men said, unsure, squinting. The young man opposite him squinted back, as if trying to see something that wasn't there. They stayed like this for a few moments before returning their gaze each to his own textbook.
A young woman to my left fidgeted with her cell phone, mumbling to herself, writing things down and crossing them out seemingly at random. Her phone rang for only and instant before she answer breathlessly, "Jenna thank GOD! Did you take notes? Can you bring them? I'm at The U." There were a couple of beats of silence before she followed up with, "I know he's gonna screw us with this exam. [pause] Right? He's such an asshole." After a few more choice words, she hung up the phone and returned to her ritual of scrawling and scribbling.
A young man bumped into me and began apologizing profusely. "It's ok," I said, distant, confused. His eyes were red and cloudy with great dark circles around them. He kept talking, a man in a dream, walking away, speaking to no one.
I'm usually alone in the library with my secret crush for an hour or so before class. Today, every single PC was taken. Moreover, students had situated themselves in piles all over the floor, against the walls, draped over couches, stuffed behind doors and in chairs. They were dressed in PJs, old t-shirts, their hair in disarray, their eyes moody and distant. I remembered a sign on the way in that read, Library Open 24/7 during Exam Week. Good Luck! "My God," I thought to myself. "Have they been here all night?"
All around was the smell of panic and nervous sweat, a dank metallic aura of fear and regret. They mumbled to themselves and one another, rocking slightly, hunched over text books, babbling, chanting, praying.
One girl spontaneously burst into tears. A few students situated near her looked about helplessly, unsure, their fingers holding their place in their textbooks. But her tears lasted only a moment. She cleared her throat and swiped at her face, running her fingers through her hair. The other students returned to their textbooks, pretending not to have witnessed her indignity.
I left the library.
I arrived to my first exam 20 minutes early. Here, too, the floor was lousy with lounging students, students propped against walls and dangling on the ends of stools and chairs. Some were fast asleep. Some looked insane. One was reading the textbook and taking notes. I steered clear of him.
Five minutes before the exam, we were seated in the lecture hall, waiting, praying, counting down. A student behind me used the free time to pepper the TA with questions. After a minute or two, I turned to him and said, "Kid, if you don't know it by now, you don't know it. Relax and earn your grade."
The TA smiled meekly, shrugging a bit. "He's right," she said. The student began chewing his lower lip, marking the time with wet, weasel eyes.
When I finished the exam, I headed to the library again. Even before I entered, I saw an explosion of students strewn about, desperate, tortured, fretful. A beautiful young woman walked by outside the library, talking on her cell phone, uncharacteristically cheerful and carefree."I could care less if I get a D or whatever," she giggled. "It's Daddy's money!"
She smelled like a Chanel no. 5 commercial.
Mon, May 6, 2013
I parked and noticed the garage was conspicuously bare as well. I easily got a spot near the door and, again, checked my phone, sure that I had arrived on campus extra early:
7:58 AM
A few groups of people wandered the campus in packs, similar to the tour groups that began popping up a few months ago but comprised of much older folk. An older woman in one of the groups smiled at me, her lips parting on a yellowing set of uneven teeth.I got the feeling that she knew something that I didn't. I did my best to smile back.
I ate breakfast in a strangely deserted Student Union, now slightly nervous, now checking the date and time on my phone every few minutes, now double and triple checking the exam schedule. To calm myself a little, I browsed my news/blog feeds. When I looked up a few moments later, the place was packed - PACKED! - with students, silent, eager, desperately sweating students.
Two young men stared at their textbooks then at one another. "Lambda equals h over p," one of the young men said, unsure, squinting. The young man opposite him squinted back, as if trying to see something that wasn't there. They stayed like this for a few moments before returning their gaze each to his own textbook.
A young woman to my left fidgeted with her cell phone, mumbling to herself, writing things down and crossing them out seemingly at random. Her phone rang for only and instant before she answer breathlessly, "Jenna thank GOD! Did you take notes? Can you bring them? I'm at The U." There were a couple of beats of silence before she followed up with, "I know he's gonna screw us with this exam. [pause] Right? He's such an asshole." After a few more choice words, she hung up the phone and returned to her ritual of scrawling and scribbling.
A young man bumped into me and began apologizing profusely. "It's ok," I said, distant, confused. His eyes were red and cloudy with great dark circles around them. He kept talking, a man in a dream, walking away, speaking to no one.
I'm usually alone in the library with my secret crush for an hour or so before class. Today, every single PC was taken. Moreover, students had situated themselves in piles all over the floor, against the walls, draped over couches, stuffed behind doors and in chairs. They were dressed in PJs, old t-shirts, their hair in disarray, their eyes moody and distant. I remembered a sign on the way in that read, Library Open 24/7 during Exam Week. Good Luck! "My God," I thought to myself. "Have they been here all night?"
All around was the smell of panic and nervous sweat, a dank metallic aura of fear and regret. They mumbled to themselves and one another, rocking slightly, hunched over text books, babbling, chanting, praying.
One girl spontaneously burst into tears. A few students situated near her looked about helplessly, unsure, their fingers holding their place in their textbooks. But her tears lasted only a moment. She cleared her throat and swiped at her face, running her fingers through her hair. The other students returned to their textbooks, pretending not to have witnessed her indignity.
I left the library.
I arrived to my first exam 20 minutes early. Here, too, the floor was lousy with lounging students, students propped against walls and dangling on the ends of stools and chairs. Some were fast asleep. Some looked insane. One was reading the textbook and taking notes. I steered clear of him.
Five minutes before the exam, we were seated in the lecture hall, waiting, praying, counting down. A student behind me used the free time to pepper the TA with questions. After a minute or two, I turned to him and said, "Kid, if you don't know it by now, you don't know it. Relax and earn your grade."
The TA smiled meekly, shrugging a bit. "He's right," she said. The student began chewing his lower lip, marking the time with wet, weasel eyes.
When I finished the exam, I headed to the library again. Even before I entered, I saw an explosion of students strewn about, desperate, tortured, fretful. A beautiful young woman walked by outside the library, talking on her cell phone, uncharacteristically cheerful and carefree."I could care less if I get a D or whatever," she giggled. "It's Daddy's money!"
She smelled like a Chanel no. 5 commercial.
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