On an average day where I have an exam, I tend to devote every single second to consuming, absorbing and mastering any knowledge that’s slightly relevant to the topics that will be on the exam. On such days, I don’t function as a human and rather turn into a machine — I pump up my anxiety, compress my soul and condense my knowledge with hopes of converting my spiritual energy and zest for life to something even better: a decent grade from an engineering class.
I fill every break with studying, no matter how inefficient it is. I eat my cereal while sticking post-its to my Thermodynamics textbook. I solve a Quizlet flashcard set over and over again. I read lecture notes on my way to class, with hopes that a car won’t hit me while I’m crossing the street. I don’t bother walking to Hopkins Cafe for lunch as I can not lose my precious 10 minutes of studying just because I need to eat to survive. No, thanks — I’ll eat the blank page left for extra work if I get too hungry during the exam.
The pressure to study comes from the fear of remorse: Sitting down in my seat at Bloomberg 272, glancing at the first question and realizing that I have no clue on how to solve it because I didn’t study as much as humanly possible. Knowing that I read the information needed to solve the problem to the point where I swear I could point to its exact location on the page, but the section itself is blank when I force myself to remember.
Although I beg my mind to fill the missing images in my head, it doesn’t always show mercy. Then I realize bullshitting is better than leaving it blank, so I play my favorite game: How to convince the grader to award me more points? I ornament the page with every relevant equation that comes to my mind, knowingly write the wrong things because I don’t remember their right versions, describe what I’m trying to do by writing paragraphs, fully aware that the grader will hate having to read these on Gradescope.
From the moment I start revising the material until I solve my last practice question, it feels like neither the distress nor the discomfort will come to an end. Whenever I fail to memorize, remember or understand, I think about the feelings that will take control of me when I hand in my paper and leave the exam hall. I remind myself that I want to feel pleased with the work I submit, so I do everything in my power to reach this ideal.
Sometimes, I succeed. With a smile on my face, I leave to go back to my dorm, maybe even stop by at Brody Cafe to get a coffee, lay in bed and prepare myself for another studying marathon for my next exam, dreading the thought of repeating this whole process.
Sometimes, I don’t succeed. However, I never feel as horrible as I thought I would. I still stop by to get coffee if I’m craving it, and then I take my usual route walking down the Beach’s downhill sidewalks to go back to my dorm.
As I’m passing by the desire path that directs you to Scott-Bates Commons, I hear the intertwined noises of the cars passing, students talking and leaves rustling. The sun burns my skin, and my sunglasses feel heavy on my nose. I think about the mud stains on my shoes, and the bruises on my legs that I don’t know the history of.
With all of these feelings, I become human again. When I find myself in this position, although I don’t have an exam grade I look forward to receiving, I still find so many reasons to smile about. At least it’s over. For now. I have so many second chances. I do. I’m not a machine, or a B minus. I’m human, and I do my best.
I put my hand on my chest and sense my heart pumping blood. I perceive the relief in my lungs and no longer feel compressed, and find myself breathing again. The clumps of knowledge from random textbook pages and Canvas files dissipate slowly; my mind calms down, no longer condensed with worries. As these are happening, I continue my walk with a big grin on my face and enjoy freedom.
Buse Koldas is a sophomore from Istanbul, Turkey majoring in Chemical and Biomolecular Engineering. She is the Voices Editor for The News-Letter. Her column discusses how her past experiences have affected her, with the hope of making others feel seen and understood.
