One Of Those Days

Sometimes, you have one of those days. Mine was yesterday.

I studied hard and did everything the way that the professor told us to. To be honest, I had this idea in my mind that I had borrowed from my friend who walked away from the faith. She said that when she did badly in school, she simply worked harder, and found that there was no need for God in that. She didn't need Him. And her grades went up. So my grades went down, and then down again, and I decided that I would study so hard that it doesn't matter what the professors did; I would ace the exam. I read a full week of material ahead of time and did all the practice questions, which are the two biggest things that the professor told us would get us the grades.

So I took the test on Monday and it felt easy. There were only a few questions that surprised me. Then I spent the rest of that day with my Texan friends at the beach, where we connected as Christian southerners. And I passed out early, as has become my habit.

On Tuesday, we learned that the our class got remarkably low scores. My confidence dissipated upon learning that the highest score was an 88. So at lunch, I went to talk to the professor (by the way, I'm a favorite of his). He told me that my score was very low. I knew going in that I needed at least an 80 just to get to passing the class, so hearing that alone was plenty to decide it. Discussion didn't take long before I agreed that I would need to withdraw from the course and remain on the island an extra semester. I was very frustrated that I could know the material well and still do so poorly, so he quizzed me on some things I got wrong. I knew all of it. The answers were no-brainers. Somewhere in there upon realizing I'd have to repeat the class, I began to tear up. So for the first time since my sophomore year of college (almost exactly four years ago now), I cried in public. The professor tried to cheer me up a little, but I soon left after talking with him didn't yield any hints on how to do better. I threw on some shades and felt like throwing up for the rest of the day.

So I had to face this awful reality, that I'd have to stay on this island for an extra semester, making it a full two years in this place (minus 12 collective weeks of visits to the States).

And then I decided that this awful reality doesn't have to be SO awful. Because here's the thing: next semester is supposed to be my hardest here. Now it doesn't have to be. I can arrange my schedule so I can learn and balance things out better (I hope). I dunno how it'll be, but maybe taking one new class out of the picture can turn my future semesters into opportunities to REALLY learn, rather than always feeling behind.