I’ve never liked the drumroll to an exam. It takes over your life and drives you to stress-eat ungodly amounts of Nestle chocolate chip cookie dough. When I study (though, truthfully, the occasion is rare), I like to hull up in my room, spend about an hour complaining, and then about two hours reviewing slides of Athenian agoras and remembering which dead guy wrote which poem about London in 1893.
<\/o:p><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
And then the dreaded hour arrives.
<\/o:p><\/div>\nIf you\u2019re like me, you put on the most comfortable clothes you can find, down as much coffee as you can afford on your cheapo college-kid budget, and roll to class with a can-do attitude.
<\/o:p><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
You open the door to find a room full of equally strung-out students. There\u2019s an obvious unspoken agreement to pounce on any sucker who tries to make a joke this morning.
We know you think you\u2019re trying to lighten the mood, but the rest of us are still cramming Kirchhoff\u2019s Laws. <\/o:p><\/i><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
The professor hands out the exam and suddenly everyone finds time to talk to God.
<\/o:p><\/div>\nThis is your chance to prove that you actually know your stuff. This is your chance to prove you\u2019ve been listening when it probably looked like you were, oh, I don\u2019t know, texting or checking your Facebook.
Because you\u2019d never do that in class. Laptops are only for taking notes, right? <\/o:p><\/i><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
Your hand cramps up as you write that last sentence of the essay question and THERE! You\u2019re done!
<\/o:p><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
Even though I admit to mildly enjoying tests, for reasons unknown, I am still very glad when it\u2019s all over. In the aftermath, you hear whispers that confirm you probably answered number three correctly. And you\u2019d love to stay and chat, but you\u2019d rather just move on with your life.
<\/o:p><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
Then there\u2019s the day you get grades back. Well, there\u2019s nothing you can do to change the past.
<\/o:p><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
This is that part we talked about earlier; where you\u2019re crying with joy\u2026or because you\u2019re parents are going to kill you if they find out about this one. I hope that you find yourself more frequently siding with the first reason. Either way, I\u2019m not one to discuss my grades with others. There\u2019s something so utterly tactless about asking your lab partner what he got on the physics exam.
Again, seriously? Because how I answer is going to affect your grade? <\/o:p><\/i><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
Instead, once I note that letter at the top, I like to tuck my test deep inside an unmarked folder and entirely forget about the whole experience until fate requires me to dig it up in preparation for the next exam.
<\/o:p><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
Right next to that folder is another unmarked folder full of letters. These letters, however, were not assigned to me by a professor, but were written to me by various individuals in my life. And deep inside this folder are a couple of letters from my more recent Valentine\u2019s days.
<\/o:p><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
In the weeks leading up to St. Valentine\u2019s Day, restaurants
you <\/span><\/i>wanted reservations at are booked up and every conversation somehow finds its way to the question “What are you doing for Valentine\u2019s day?”<\/o:p><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
February 14th makes you overanalyze your relationships and drives you to stress-eat ungodly amounts of Nestle chocolate chip cookie dough. When I go out on Valentine\u2019s Day (though, truthfully, the occasion is rare), I like to hull up in my room, spend about an hour complaining, and then about two hours trying on fancy dresses and attempting crazy hairdos until I feel like I look alright.
<\/o:p><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
And then the dreaded hour arrives.
<\/o:p><\/div>\nIf you\u2019re like me, you put on the nicest outfit in your closet and wear a charming smile to hide all of your anxiety.
<\/o:p><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
You open the door to find an equally anxious date. There\u2019s an obvious unspoken agreement to ignore this elephant named Putting-on-a-face.
After all, there\u2019s not really room for the elephant at our two-top at the French bistro. <\/o:p><\/i><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
The waiter hands each of you a menu and you know the time has come to start the conversation.
<\/o:p><\/div>\nThis is your chance to prove you\u2019ve been listening to everything the other person said.
<\/o:p><\/i><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
Even though Valentine\u2019s Day can be quite fun, I am still very glad when it\u2019s all over.
<\/o:p><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
Then there\u2019s February 15th.
<\/o:p><\/div>\nWe are again at that place of happy or sad tears. Ladies, he calls or he doesn\u2019t. Gents, she says she had a good time or you hear from her friends that you totally botched it. Hopefully you have more fun Valentine\u2019s dates than disappointing ones.
<\/o:p><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
Either way, I\u2019m not one to blabber on to other people about my dates. There\u2019s something so utterly tactless about a post-Valentine\u2019s fairytale replay or disastrous rant.
Haven\u2019t you ever heard the phrase \u201cDon\u2019t kiss and tell\u201d?<\/o:p><\/i><\/div>\n<\/div>\n
All in all, I am very thankful that February 14
th<\/sup> only happens once a year, and exam time only two or three times a semester. Because I\u2019m not sure I have room for anymore cookie dough in my freezer. <\/o:p><\/span><\/div>\n<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
If either part of this analogy stresses you out, you’re in good company. I am currently preparing to take my first midterms of my fall semester and I got around to wondering why exams stress us out so much. It’s like going on a really import… Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":949,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[64,151,153,152],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-771","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-college","category-exams","category-holidays","category-things"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/my.vanderbilt.edu\/artofblogging\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/771","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/my.vanderbilt.edu\/artofblogging\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/my.vanderbilt.edu\/artofblogging\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/my.vanderbilt.edu\/artofblogging\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/949"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/my.vanderbilt.edu\/artofblogging\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=771"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/my.vanderbilt.edu\/artofblogging\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/771\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":903,"href":"https:\/\/my.vanderbilt.edu\/artofblogging\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/771\/revisions\/903"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/my.vanderbilt.edu\/artofblogging\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=771"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/my.vanderbilt.edu\/artofblogging\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=771"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/my.vanderbilt.edu\/artofblogging\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=771"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}