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November 01, 2017 - Image 9

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3B
Wednesday, November 1, 2017 // The Statement

Soundtracking: Midterms

M

idterms. The first sign that your
semester is heading down the toilet
real quick. It’s like if you were going

down a slide but as you start your descent, you
smack your head on the bar and just tumble
down the slide, lying in a wood chip pile of lost
GPA points and self-pity. Every time you say
you’re going to duck, but every time you are sadly
mistaken.

This semester, I was optimistic. I was hopeful.

Like a third grader stepping up to bat at their first
little league game, picturing that ball sailing over
the fences as the crowd cheers their victory lap, I
thought success was bound to come my way. Good
thing many strikeouts were in my future to bring
me back down to Earth.

I don’t know why, but in the first month of the

semester, I kept saying I wanted the work to hit
me already. I was uncomfortable with how little
the workload was stressing me out. I wanted the
semester to bodyslam me into submission like it
inevitably always does. I can’t explain why this
was the case but suffice it to say, I regret every
sentence now.

It’s 11:47 p.m. the night before one of my exams.

After finishing some other assignments also due
tomorrow, I sit staring at my laptop, prominently
featuring a study guide file on Canvas. If you look
into my eyes, the lights are on, but clearly nobody’s
home. I’m more focused on the clock in the right-
hand corner of the screen. 11:48. 11:49. It takes
every moral fiber in my body to not pull up some
Vine compilations and ignore the PDF in front
of me for a while. By the time my inner conflict
between studying and the remnants of long-
deceased Vine is resolved, 11:53 has rolled around.
It’s time.

“Sometime Around Midnight” — The Airborne

Toxic Event

Working my way through the guide, every

concept from lecture on the study guide hits me
with more and more force, and my confusion
responds accordingly. The professor stressed about
28 times each lecture how this study guide is just a
starting point and should not be the sole extent of
my studying efforts. Seeing as though it is now 12:32
a.m., my eyelids are already staying closed for longer
when I blink, and the exam is at noon tomorrow, this
will be the extent of my work prior to the test.

As I begin to stare off into space, I come to terms

with the fact that this is my fault and my fault
alone. No one came into my life and forced me to
prioritize looking at the course catalog for hours
on end instead of getting a head start on studying.
No one offered me life everlasting to procrastinate
this much. The only person I can directly blame
for this entire situation is Matt Harmon and that
dweeb is about to get a strongly worded letter after
this hour and a half trainwreck tomorrow.

Hours of studying roll by and suddenly it’s 4:00

a.m. and I’m still wearing a “#1 Grandma” sweater

and jeans. I check my beard to make sure I didn’t
wind up spending twenty years staring at that
study guide. I don’t want to look like Tom Hanks
in “Castaway” at this point in my life.

As I head to my room and my head hits my

pillow, thoughts of this exam tomorrow fade out
of my mind. No sense in stressing during my sleep.
I set my alarm for 9 a.m. tomorrow to get a full
breakfast and study a little more before noon.
Everything fades and my worries melt away.

“Forget About Life” — Alvvays
The sun washes over my covers as my eyes open.

That’s weird that I woke up before the alarm,
seeing as though I was up pretty late. Oh well, I’m
not one to argue with a good thing. I check my

phone.

11:45 a.m.
Legit end me now.
I throw my blanket off as fast as I can, manage

to pull my pants up without tripping over myself
and eating the floor, grab my backpack with two
#2 pencils for the scantron and a pen for the short
answer section, and book it out the door with the
speed of a taxi in a movie when the passenger yells
“get me to the airport and step on it!” If any two-
ton vehicle wants to become really good friends
with my body right now, I would gladly accept the
offer.

“Fast Car” — Tracy Chapman
Sweating, shoulders aching from my backpack

straps bouncing up and down and slamming into my
back, I basically burst into the lecture hall at 11:58
a.m. People have been slowly trickling in, studying
like the responsible students they are and here I am, a
shitshow of a person who doesn’t even deserve a study
guide.

I owe my life to whoever created Michigan time.
I grab a spot in a random row, my friends from

the class spread out around the room, looking at
each other and making expressions that say more
than words. If I had to guess, I’d say most of them
were thinking “What is this exam, and why is Matt

sweating so much?”

For about a year and a half in high school, I walked

around with a penny bouncing around in my shoe. My
great-grandma always said if you find a penny heads
up, put it in your shoe and good luck will come your
way.

Where’s my penny now?
“Lucky Penny” — JD McPherson
I fill out the scantron’s front page with my full

name. Mathew doesn’t fit in the first name boxes, so
I have to drop the W. For all intents and purposes,
Matthe Harmon is about to bomb this bad boy. I feel
bad for Matthe right now. I bubble in the key number
and the rest of the sheet and open the exam.

I didn’t know I was taking an exam in a foreign

language today, but that’s rad. I know my professor
said the study guide isn’t all that will be on the exam,
but why did she have to be telling the truth? Some
of these terms and questions I have never even seen
before. Call me MF doomed.

An hour and a half passes before you can say “I love

Reggie the Campus Corgi” and about 75 percent of
the class takes the full time like me. In the last five
minutes, almost everyone succumbs to peer pressure
and rises out of their seats to turn their tests in as a
collective. Strength in numbers, I guess.

We all look at each other, never having felt more

united over a travesty like that before.

“Crew” — GoldLink
Flash forward to two weeks from that fateful day.

I’m sitting in the dining hall on my phone when I get
an email from my GSI.

Subject line: Matt Exam Issue
He had mentioned something a few days ago in

section about how grades for the midterm aren’t out
yet because some people mixed up their key numbers
on the scantron so they had to recalculate some
scores. Who in their right mind would mix up a 1 and
a 2? How in hell could you even mess up that badly?

In the wise words of Jeff Goldblum from “Jurassic

Park,” “Life, uhhhhhh, finds a way.”

Message: “Dear Matt, you mixed up your key

numbers on your scantron. From the first grading
of your multiple choice section, you got 21 out of 80
points.”

“Why You Wanna Treat Me So Bad” — Prince
I look up from my phone, my jaw almost smacking

into the table below. What did I ever do to deserve
this life? Who did I wrong? Did I accidentally upset
some witch or force beyond my control that decided
to make it their life duty to make sure Matt screws
up in every possible way? It must have been Matthe
that filled the scantron out wrong. Matt or Matthew
would never do that but Matthe probably wants to see
me fail.

I keep reading. “We assumed this was a mix-up and

regraded your midterm. This will not happen again if
you mess up your scantron on the final. BTW, you did
well on your midterm.”

“Sweet” — Brockhampton.
Matthe, you done good, kid.

BY MATT HARMON, DAILY STAFF REPORTER

ILLUSTRATION BY EMILY HARDIE

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