Wednesday, April 21, 2010


I walked in late for my last final. I spent every second up until that moment reviewing terms, concepts, dates, leaders, and acronyms (oh the dreaded acronyms!) The room was silent and already beginning to smell like a test (what does a test smell like you ask? Think of pencil shavings mixed with feet smell and throw in a little xerox machine...mmmm, there it is...)

All I could think as I walked to my desk was, "The last one. This is the last test of the hardest semester of my life."

I sat down, wrote my name, and looked at the first 100 questions which looked something like this:




I didn't know the first acroynm, nor the second, nor the third. I thought that was the end of it. I might as well throw in the towel (or pencil in this case), shake my professor's hand and thank him for a semester of wordy powerpoint presentations and leave the stuffy room.

But I didn't. I stayed for almost three hours. And it got a lot better. I think I rocked most of it (despite the first three questions)

After turning in my test I had time for reflection as I walked to the parking lot to wait for Mikey.

When the semester began I did a lot of praying. I knew 17.5 credits would be a challenge, but after getting all my syllabi and looking at the assignments, deadlines and projects, I was fairly convinced I was in some of the hardest sections of the classes I was taking. That first night I spent hours (that I should have spent studying) looking at ways to rework my schedule to take easier sections, pouring over Rate My Professor ratings and seeing the horrific reviews of the classes I was in that all warned those who cared about their GPA to stay far away. I knelt and asked Heavenly Father if this was the semester to take these hard classes, if I could do it, if it was wise.

Every time I wanted the answer to run away and take different sections, I didn't. Every time I wanted validation to make things easier, I didn't.

What I did get was repeated feelings that I needed this semester to teach me about learning, to teach me about satisfaction, to teach me about dedication, hard work, and discipline. I needed this semester to toughen up my emotions, to toughen up my resolve.

And guess what? It worked. I don't think I've cried as much as I have this semester. But I also haven't found so much satisfaction in studying and doing well. Not well grade-wise (although my fingers are crossed) but well in the mind way. I feel like I really learned. Imagine that. Learning in college. Ha!

Too often too many forget, and I'm one of them, that we enter to learn.

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