For as long as I can remember, my least favorite part about school has been all the tests, no matter what subject. And I’m not even targeting standardized tests -- that’s an entire article on its own, for another time. Tests and exams, in any shape or form, frighten me to no end.
At the beginning of every semester, the professor always goes over the grading breakdown: homework is worth 20 percent of the final average, two midterms are worth 20 percent each, class attendance and participation are each worth 5 percent, and the final exam is worth 30 percent. Wait, hold on. The two midterms together are nearly half my grade?! And the final is worth a third?! Really?! How can two sets of 75 minutes and one set of two hours possibly mean anything as to how well I’ve learned the material? Though it’s nothing new to me at this point, I’m always slightly thrown by numbers like these. The fact that an exam can be worth more to my final average than my homework is absolutely baffling.
Now, one may argue, “Emily, if you’ve learned the material and done all your homework correctly, then you should be able to ace the test just fine if you study hard enough!” I hear what you’re saying, but let me take you to task in order to explain why you’re so very wrong.
Imagine me sitting in one of my classrooms in my usual seat. The professor passes around a thick stack of paper packets. What comes with those packets is more than just a possibility of a paper cut. I studied so hard for this -- it feels like my life depends on this one exam. The score I get can either help or harm my final average. And if it does the latter, then I’ll probably pass the class by the skin of my teeth. If I fail the class, then I can kiss my scholarships goodbye, flunk out of school, and live the rest of my life in a cardboard box on the side of the road. The room is too quiet. I can't concentrate. I feel like I'm being judged by everyone in the class and they're all silently laughing at how unprepared I am.
These thoughts race and rave through my mind for the duration of the entire test. The entire test. How am I supposed to remember what I studied for the last week with all this worrying? I can’t. I simply can’t. I blank on two open-ended questions. They’re worth ten points each. Dammit, how do I set up this integral? I know I looked this over. What if I fail this exam? Oh, wait, I think I have to -- oh, what’s the point, I’ll just live with my parents forever. OK, let’s convert this function to polar --maybe I can make a lot of money if I become a stripper. Time’s up. I scramble to finish up as much as I can, making even bigger mistakes because I’m rushing. But there comes a point where I have to admit defeat.
A week later, we get our results. Part of me always hopes that a miracle pulled through, but it’s very rarely is the case. My score feels like a slap in the face. I didn’t think I did that poorly, but here we are. I wonder what the class average was… oh, I’m below it. But how can this be? I did all the homework, I studied for it! I even received high scores on all the homework! I know this stuff! As the professor goes through each problem, I feel dumber and dumber. If I weren’t given a time constraint and put under so much pressure, I totally could have figured that out. I understand everything. I studied for this. I know how it works. Why am I so stupid? Why couldn’t I have figured this out when I was taking it?
“Cheer up, it’s one test.” I realize that, but I should have done so much better than this. “Just do better on the next one!” You want my brain for a day? “Well, I guess you didn’t know the material as well as you thought.” Shut up and eat your own fist. I got high scores on all the homework. I know the material very well. There’s no reason I should be flunking my tests.
I can’t do tests because of who I am as a person. I don’t work well under pressure. No matter how much I wish it so, I can’t change that, no matter how hard I study. So tell me: if I’ve learned the material and done all my homework correctly, then why am I not acing the tests?
