I stared at the test as I drowned in a pool of confusion and dread. The letters were twisting and turning like snakes ready to strike. I can't do this. My pulse quickened and I began to feel nauseous. I scribbled gibberish onto the paper with all the hope I had left as I remembered last night.

I looked down at my paper with blurred vision. I glanced at my phone to see that it was nearly 1:30 AM. I looked into the reflection of my computer screen; my eyes were bloodshot from exhaustion. I directed my attention back down at my paper. This study guide was for my summative Arabic test that I had to take in about six hours. I began studying the three units the test covered nearly three hours ago; I was nowhere near being finished.

I attempted to decipher the words again. My eyes, tired and heavy, were ready to close. I sat up again and focused on the same sentence for three minutes straight, and realized that there was no use in wasting my time in repeating gibberish that makes no sense in my head over and over again. Is this because I'm tired? Am I stupid? My mind, formerly bursting with thoughts, was blank. I shut my notebook, stuffed it in my folder, and buried it in my bag. I threw my bag aside and brushed my teeth. I forced myself to my bed. However, the only thing on my mind was my test and the effect it would have. What if I fail it? What if I get a C in the class? My GPA will go down to a 3.8. Even if I get straight A's for the rest of my high school career, my accumulative GPA will be ruined. I won't get into a good college. I won't get a good job. What if I ruin my life?

I stood back up and considered turning on the light and pulling out my notebook again, but I stopped myself and got back into bed. I tried to block out the possibilities and drifted into an anxious sleep.

When I woke up, the room swirled around me as I tried to rub vision back into my eyes. I felt like I had just awoken from a coma, but I pushed through because I had to. I had to go to school. I had to take the test.
Without realizing, I was in class. I had the test first period, which would give my day a wonderful start. I sat in my seat as my teacher rambled in Arabic; I didn’t even make an effort to understand what she was saying. I just waited for the tests to be passed out while my mind focused on the little vocabulary I had tried to memorize. A stack of papers was slapped onto my desk, interrupting my thoughts. I looked at the first few questions and felt mildly relieved; they seemed easy enough. I scribbled down my grammatically incorrect answers and prayed for partial credit. This isn’t so bad. That’s what I thought until I saw the rest of the test. What does this even mean? I closed and opened my eyes, regaining my clear vision. We never learned this in class. Was I supposed to know this? I shut my eyes for a moment and tried to calm myself down. I looked back at the gibberish on my test and tried to guess as many answers as I could. Half of the test remained blank. I grabbed my papers and marched to the teacher.

“What does this mean?” I asked, pointing to one of the questions. I listened with the little hope I had left as she answered my question in quick, frantic Arabic. Giving up, I returned to my seat. I gazed to the side and saw Abdullah rapidly, effortlessly scrawling down answers; he was nearly done with his test. Why was he able to do it so easily? I’m smarter than him in every other subject. Why is this a test of my intelligence? Why am I being compared to him? Why is he going to get a higher grade than me? I don’t deserve this. My eyes betrayed me and wandered towards his paper. No one was looking. I examined his answers carefully. I was ready to copy the same thing onto my paper, until I thought about my father.

“I know you try really hard in school, but I don’t ever want you to take it too far,” he said a few weeks ago.
“What do you mean?” I inquired.

“Even if you’re in the middle of the test and you don’t now what’s going on, don’t resort to cheating. It’s not worth it. You would never cheat, would you?” he asked probingly.

“No!” I announced with passion. But… would I? If I had to, would I ever cheat? No, I could never do that. The grades aren’t worth it.

I was snapped back into reality and found myself still staring at Abdullah’s paper. It’s not worth it. I looked back at my own paper feeling a mixture of humility and anguish.

After staring at my paper with worry and stress pulsing throughout me for nearly five minutes, I began to feel it fade away. My anxiety gradually decreased. I felt a feeling that I had never come across while taking a test- I felt peace. I didn’t feel guilty or self-loathing because there was nothing to feel guilty for. The snakes sprawled across my paper were still. I turned the paper over and I closed my eyes briefly. I tried to comfort myself; this was not my fault. There is nothing left to be done.

Suddenly, my teacher began walking through the rows of desks to collect the tests. She approached me and snatched my test off my desk without so much as a glance in my direction. I immediately threw on my backpack and stormed out of the classroom.

After about three days, we filed back into the classroom and took our seats. She announced loudly that we would be getting our tests back today.

“Some did better than others,” she snarled in Arabic. I almost saw her eyes drift in my direction. She began to walk through the room and hand back the tests, and I prepared myself for tears. She threw my test onto my desk and I saw the big red mark: 11/20. F. I had never failed. I don’t fail. Throughout my entire academic career, I have never gotten an F. I looked back at the paper to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating. What does this mean?

I thought about it. I searched for tears and I searched for humiliation but there was none. I was not ashamed. The thought of GPAs and college crept into my mind momentarily, but I couldn’t even be bothered to think about it anymore. My pulse slowed with my thoughts. I did all I could. My eyes were open; my vision was clear. The snakes on my paper were peaceful and serene.