The early October wind struck me like a razor blade as I hiked my way to class. My dorm wasn't far from the Robert Bell Building; but at 8 a.m., everything is worse than it seems. Even though my hands were freezing, I managed to cross my fingers. Not only was I questioning my previous life choices but also praying to the Lord that I passed this midterm. I had missed a week of class due to various reasons including a breakup, hookah, and a Netflix binge. Factors aside, there I was on my way to the dreaded Math 125 midterm.

I got to class early that morning which was a rare occasion. As I approached the classroom I realized the room didn't actually look familiar. I must have had a clueless appearance to my face because a girl spoke up and said, "You're in this class." My internal thoughts kicked in, wanting to burst out and yell. Well, I haven't been here since September so I forgot.

I preferred to sit in the back right corner so that I didn't stand out in a class of freshmen. With five minutes to spare I minded my own business and pretended to review my notes for the midterm. Except they weren't actually notes for this particular class. It was just a list of products I wanted to buy from Sephora.

The professor arrived and began digging out those freshly printed pieces of papers that would determine our grade for midterms. He didn't stand much taller than five feet, but his little legs walked all across the classroom. He personally handed each of us a piece of paper and the returned to his desk at the front of the classroom.

I stared blankly at the sheet in a Jeff Spicoli-esque way before writing my name at the top of the sheet. I flipped through the pages, this test seemed more like a novel than 15-question assignment on probability. I read the first question. When did we start using parabolas? I thought this was about gambling? I read the question again. Wait, that's not even a parabola.

All around the room my classmates viciously scrambled to start each question. They beat away on their scientific calculators and bit their lips in frustration. I was experiencing multiple feelings and emotions in that moment. For starters, I was hungry. My Mom raised me not to back down so I grabbed my calculator and began to attempt a formula. As I hit the keys nothing happened on the screen. It was blank. My calculator had broke. Leaning back in my chair I realized at that moment I was going to fail this midterm no matter how much Jesus turned the wheel. I really had one of two choices. I could sit here for the next 45 minutes and pretend that I was taking the test or I could leave right now and go to Chick-Fil-A.

With visions of Christian fried chicken running through my head I did what all failures would do in my situation. I carefully stood up knowing my classmates would either assume I was extremely smart or dumb. Not wanting to fall I walked up to my professor and handed him the blank exam. We made eye contact for a split second with no emotion on either our faces. I simply turned on my heel, threw my calculator away, and left without looking back.

They say the probability of missing shots you don't take is 100 percent. I really can't say if this is true or false because I failed my midterm about probability.

Update: I am currently retaking the class and doing quite well in it. I technically didn't fail the class, I chose to withdraw from it instead. This story is simply for humor. Hope you enjoyed it!