Pre-Exam Anxiety

I took my math exam yesterday.
I am very bad at math. I'm currently passing my math class by the skin of my teeth.
If I didn't pass this exam, I was going to flunk out of my 9th grade math class.
And you can't just flunk 9th grade year. It's like, a trial year for the rest of high school. Can you make it?  Will you get over your dreams being crushed and destroyed by one year of rigorous education? Can you bear the intolerable loneliness because you are too socially awkward to actually try to make friends? Can you????
This final was basically going to determine the rest of my life. Hypothetically.

If I passed this final, I was probably going to be super successful the rest of my high school career.
If I passed this final, I was probably going to become super popular and just drop-dead gorgeous.
If I passed this final, I was probably going to get like, a zillion scholarship offers to colleges like Yale and stuff.
If I passed this final, I would feel as if I just saved a bunch of kittens from a burning house.
Okay, maybe not that good.

I cancelled, not only a show, but also going and cross country schooling, to study for this exam.  I have never worked so hard on a study guide in my life.  If this wasn't determination, I don't know what is.

I had nightmares of failing the night before. I ended up waking up at 3 in the morning and staying awake until 6. I studied all throughout the day. I have never been so dedicated to passing an exam in my life.

I mowed my way through my Law Ed exam (heck yeah I got a 93 on that come at me sophomore year), and nearly had an anxiety attack before my math exam, my last class of the day.

I opened up the provided laptop. My heart in my throat, my hands trembling. What if I didn't remember the equations? What if I didn't remember anything? What if I just totally blank??

I pressed "start test" hesitantly.

I nearly screamed.

The first question was the same as the study guide.
And so was the second question.
And the third.
And every single one after that.

The teacher didn't bother to make a final exam. She just copied and pasted the study guide.
I had memorized the study guide like the back of my hand.

I've never been so confident in my life.
I was going to get, like, an 100 on my final exam.
Oh my god. I'm going to get an 100 on my final exam.

I didn't get stumped on a single one, except for the few questions that had glitches accidentally coded in.
I hovered over "submit test".
And then I clicked that motherfucker because I was going to get an 100 on this final exam.

My grade come up immediately.

75 was printed in big blue numbers across the right corner.

I passed my final exam.
I didn't flunk my 9th grade math class.

The euphoric security of this grade only lasted a few moments.
I looked down at my hands.
They hadn't changed.

I wasn't locked into a super successful high school career.
I wasn't suddenly super popular and drop-dead gorgeous.
A zillion scholarships to Yale and stuff weren't flooding into my desk.
And I certainly didn't feel like a saved a bunch of kittens from a burning house.
But then again, what can compare to that? You're not only those kittens savior now, you are also a proud mother. Welcome to motherhood, friend.

Nothing changed. I may not have learned any math all year, but I learned that I'm not defined by the grade I get on a quiz, or a test, or even a final.

TL;DR: Become a stripper. They earn 6 figures a year, and hey, you might get slut-shamed, but at least you're earning twice as much money your haters are. Rub that money in there face. Literally. That's your job, but with more boobs involved. And you'll probably only work nights.

Cheers!