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.
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