A Tale of Two Tests

It was the best of tests. It was the worst of tests. I had two tests today, and they didn't exactly go as planned. For the first test, I prepared really hard, knew my stuff, and actually felt quite good going into it. Let's just say I got rocked. We're talking mid-to-low single digits rocked. And yes, those are percentages. If a race horse performed like I did on that test, it would be a one-way trip to the ol' glue factory. No kidding.

These are the worst type of failures--the ones you didn't see coming. You're just walking along, humming a little to yourself, and then WHAM!!! Flattened by the F-Train. I walked out of class in a semi-daze, still wondering what had gone so horribly, horribly wrong. (I didn't have to brood on it for too long though, because I had bowling class next. Sweet, sweet strikes, you make everything all better...)

Anyway, after getting Tanya Harding'ed on my first test, I wasn't all too eager to take another one. I had spent most of my time studying for the first one, which I had expected to nail, and very little on the second, which I expected to nail me. So as I trudged along to my History of Scandinavia final (once you're past the Vikings, Scandinavian history is about as entertaining as chinese water torture) I could distinctly hear the cry go out: "Dead man walking! Dead man walking!" To my exceeding astonishment, I knew almost everything on the second test. I still have no idea how that worked out, but I'm not complaining.

If unexpected failure is one of the worst sensations, then unanticipated success has to be one of the best.

Like any good story, there is a moral to this one- a bit of advice that I hope you all will take to heart: the less you study, the better you will do in school.

Can I get a witness?