Death by Tests

I have learned something about myself during these past few months -that's not to say that this is the only thing I've learned, but merely, one of many...

I will inevitably get sick before every test.

I'm not sure how it happens or quite exactly why, I just know that it does. I realized it -or rather, it was further confirmed to me -last week just before my third History Exam.

The sickness hit ten hours before the test began. I was sitting in bed trying very hard to sleep. My gut had rolled into a hard lump and my nerves were erratic, making it hard to breath at a steady pace. I was restless.

I don't know why I worried so much. I had study my hardest and read the chapters thoroughly taking notes on everything I thought was important. I had the terms memorized and knew the dates to all the important events -even though it was "un-required" -my professor said he would never test us over dates, simply facts. -I felt confident. I felt completely ready for the test -even three days ahead of schedule. I was ready to get it out of the way and have time to worry about the rest of my schooling.

I skipped breakfast that morning, unable to eat anything when my stomach was already full -of obnoxious, over eccentric butterflies.

I made it to school early, as usual, and went over all my notes for the umpteenth time. I was nervous. But I felt ready. I was glad when my professor passed out the test just as soon as the class was seated. For some reason I felt almost in hurry to get it done.

The test consisted of forty multiple choice questions; four terms -each had to be a paragraph long; and then two other paragraphs -preferably larger than the first four. As soon as the test was handed to me, I ripped the memorized dates from my head and scrawled them on the top of my test, worried that my nervous brain would draw a blank just as soon as I got a hold of the question page. -I was lucky that I never had to use them. My brain remained fully intact through the whole escapade. All consciousness remained. I was lucky.

The multiple choice wasn't so bad. I mean, of course, I could have done better, but I did my best -I gave it all I had. The terms were a cinch. We were given ten options and were free to choose the four we wanted. Of course, I picked the ones I felt most comfortable with. ...It wasn't until the first two paragraphs formed that I realized my problem. These paragraphs were big, healthy, but still big. A little too big. I only had three pages on which to write, and if you've ever seen this certain set-up you'd know just how narrow the pages really are. I was suddenly worried that I wouldn't have enough room.

Thinking it through quickly, I decided that I'd write the last two paragraphs first to give them the room they needed (they were, after all, much more important then the terms). So, on the third page, I wrote -in my neatest scribble -the two paragraphs, thoroughly pointing out the purpose and significance of their indicated topics. When I was satisfied that I had touched every point and given them all the room necessary, I used the last few lines for the neglected terms. When I finished, I re-read them to make sure I had covered all the necessities. Aside from the last two pitiful, three lined, terms, I felt fairly confident. After checking the test and making double sure I had filled in every bubble, I flipped the test over to adjust the pages that I had turned over so that it would be easier for me to write on the oddly formatted columns. -I gasped subconsciously when I righted the test, seeing the back for the first time. I had a whole other page!

I ran the options over in my head, quickly knocking off all possibilities of putting this abandoned page to use. I had already written the terms and even if I wanted to re-write them, I really had no choice. My eraser wasn't big enough and it always left a long black stain whenever I used it. These simple facts were enough to make me mentally kick myself for being so ignorant. Ugh! This was definetely going to cost me!

And yet...despite my horrible streak of bad grades with this overly-picky professor, and my shameful promise that I'd never, in any reality, pass this class -I felt comfortable when I gave the professor my test and headed out the door to my next class.

It wasn't until I turned to open the door when I realized that I was one of the first ones to be finished. That made me a little worried. Perhaps I could have taken a little more time, going over every possible answer, doubting if my first choice was right. ...No, that wouldn't be good. At that rate, I'd never get anything done -doubting every choice and driving myself crazy because none of the answers seemed to fit, or else they all fit at once. I shut the door before I did anything rash and made my way across the campus. I was glad to escape.

....Today was much the same. I have a test tomorrow, but the sickness that I feel is something a little different. I'm afraid that, along with the reckless butterflies trapped in my stomach, I have another kind of bug. I'm not sure what it is, but I sure hope that it leaves by tomorrow. I can't afford to be sick twice....at once...

I guess all I'm really saying is -I hate tests. They are so unhealthy for me. I only wish there was some kind of vaccine or medicine to help with their ever-present-ness in school. Bleh! Tests stink!