At around 6:00 this morning I stood, scowling, out the kitchen window with my morning glass of milk as yet another spring windstorm thrashed my trees.
I had to go out to make sure the gate was shut and secured while Toby did his thing in the most sheltered corner of the backyard. By the time we came back inside, I was freezing cold. However, I refused to drink any tea.
Why did I deny myself a hot mug of black tea this morning? Well… because I had my precalculus exam to take, and the anticipatory anxiety I got just by thinking about the exam brought me to the precipice of a panic attack. A mug of tea would’ve sent me over the edge.
Instead of caffeine, I took a tiny dose of Propranolol, because my heart was already racing as if I was in the middle of a marathon. But, I knew how to control my breathing to prevent my “lizard brain” from taking over, and left even earlier than usual to ensure I had plenty of time to get to class. After all, those winds were no joke, and the lightweight box I call an Xterra is damn near impossible to keep in the lane when the winds are gusting over 40 mph.
Looking back, I’m not sure what I was more anxious about: taking the precalculus exam, or driving through the wind to get there.
Thankfully (probably because I drove even slower than a little old lady), I got to campus in one piece and bought myself a huge bottle of water from the vending machine. My heart was still racing, but not nearly as much as it had been before, as I hoofed it up the stairs to the third floor. My goal was to calm my body down enough so that my “lizard brain” would completely relinquish control, and my logic could take over for the exam. To do that, I had to feign confidence and act like I had it all together, even though I didn’t feel ready for that exam at all.
I’d studied long and hard all semester. I’d memorized nearly every equation, filled up several five-subject notebooks with practice problems alone, and attended and participated in every class. It would be harder for me to fail the class than it would be for me to pass it, especially if I tried my best on the exam. Even so, I felt like my understanding of precalculus was flimsy, at best, and the prospect of taking calculus one in the fall terrified me.
Before I could overthink the future any further, my professor arrived and unlocked the classroom door. I greeted her with a smile as I walked by and sat down at my usual spot in the front of the classroom. I took out everything I needed for that test that day: pencils, my calculator, some scratch paper, and set it on the desk next to my water.
Soon, the classroom filled up with students who were just as tense as I was. But, I knew better than to focus on them.
As soon as the clock struck 8:00 AM, the prof shut everyone up and passed out our exams. There were 26 questions, split between a multiple-choice section and a written-answer section, and the whole exam was worth 150 points. Unless I bombed the exam pitifully, I would pass precalculus. But, I aimed for at least a 75%, if not higher on the exam.
The two hours I spent taking the exam went by in a blur. I can’t even recall the equations I solved or anything like that. I just know that as soon as I was done with the exam, I practically threw it into the turn-in pile, and left the classroom before I even had a chance to put my backpack on. I just wanted to get out and go home!
On the drive home, I kept a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel as I listened to music and let my mind wander. Between gusts of wind that tried to blow me into oncoming traffic, I reminded myself that no matter what grade I got on the exam or in the class, I did my best. I studied. I did all of the work I was given (and then some). I dedicated myself to figuring out math in spite of my doubts. There was nothing more I could’ve done to ensure my success in the course.
Of course, I couldn’t help but ask myself, “What if I failed?”
Well… what if I failed? Simple: I’d retake the class over the summer. Failing the course wouldn’t be a negative reflection of my character or my intelligence, nor would it negate the material I did learn over the past sixteen weeks. It would just mean I’d have to retake the class. Nearly everyone who’s gone to college has had to withdraw/fail courses, and retake them again. That’s just how college works.
Two hours after I made it home, I nervously logged into my student account to check on my grade. I held my breath as I clicked on the notifications button and… I practically fell out of my chair when I saw the results. Not only did I pass the final exam, but I passed the class as a whole, with a very solid C!
My hard work, dedication, and unrelenting stubbornness paid off!
