Mr. Corden Narrative

It was my last class of the semester, and the final exam was worth 30% of our grade.

I landed face first. As I collected the pile of papers scattered around me, I cringed and briskly glanced at the unfamiliar faces fixated on my every move below the narrow landing of the school stair case. I briefly questioned whether I was in a cliché high school film before I was brought back to the reality of my freshman year by a stranger who yelled at me to move so she could get to class. As I fumbled back up on my feet and trudged to my sixth period class, my thoughts lingered on the unsurprising nature of this turn of events. Only two weeks earlier I tumbled to the ground in the middle of a half marathon. This clumsiness was not a new development. My evident lack of coordination had loomed over me since childhood, memorialized by the

As I breezed through the multiple choice sections and on to the free response questions, I began to feel a steady sense of ease as the information seemed to be coming back to me fairly quickly. The information, for the most part, had been imprinted onto my long term memory from the previous semester. Months later, when the memory of that stressful morning, and the night leading up to it, had since faded from memory, I received my score report for the exam. I had scored a perfect 5 out of 5. All that anxiety had been for nothing and in the end, I had received the score that I would never have thought possible on the morning of the

The science test you’ve been dreading has finally come to haunt you. You walk in, and the teacher routinely reminds you of the weight of the test on your grade, 80%. The teacher hands out the test and you blankly stare at the questions that can either build up, or destroy your grade. Unconformities?! What are they? Scrolling through the pages, you finally find some questions you know. The teacher announces that there are only 5 minutes left before you must turn your answers in. In a hurry, you halfheartedly guess most of the test, hoping that you get lucky. Days pass, and you receive your final grade for the test. Next to your score you see an F in bright red. Frantically, you race to the computers to check your overall grade. You log on only to see a perfectly stable B+ plummet down to a D. On the bus home, you are tense, assured that your parents have seen the obvious drop. Walking through the door, your mom asks “How’d the test go?” Stammering, you reply with “Er--well that's a long story”. Confused she asks for the test, and you wearily hand it over. You immediately see the disappointment in your mom’s face as she flips throughout the pages. Your punishment was groundation, and after your mom lectures you, she walks out. You think for a while, and realize that you could’ve prevented all of this if you simply studied instead of playing that game for longer.

I was extremely wary of the class: my first attempt had made me afraid of college algebra. But once the class finally started, I realized my worries were all for nothing. I was finally able to understand the content of the class, and I was doing very well on all of my assignments. So well in fact that I had an “A” in the class. I couldn’t believe that after my first attempt had failed so horribly that I was able to make such an amazing

I walked into my class and sat down. Mr. Baroody announced that we were going to get our tests back, but I wasn’t worried. I knew that I did not get a 100% on the quiz, but nothing could prepare me for what was to come.

Cheating was not acceptable in his classroom and it may be a cause of a failing grade. He explained the consequences of cheating. He said: “Cheating, it’s not good” Don’t cheat.

A few days later, I am handed back the test. Per Ms. Evans’ usual policy, there is no grade, just an assortment of checks and X’s. My eyes zoom in to find my mistakes, sure that I had approached every question from the entirely wrong angle. The more I examine it, however, the more I can tell that I actually only made a few small mistakes. Nicholas Chan, next to me, remarks “Wow, you actually did pretty well!”, the surprise in his voice unmistakable. For some reason though, the trepidation and dread do not leave my stomach. I ask myself,

test. All of my classmates talking to each other. Mrs.Hughes getting the test ready, and sorted to pass out. I’m sitting at my desk, my stomach rumbling. Mrs.Hughes starts to pass out papers. I see my class smiling, and excited about their grade. I got my paper, I flipped it over and I saw a whopping red F on my paper. I suddenly felt like crying, but I knew it was my cue to work harder. I turned my failure into success by owning up to my failure and practicing.

Even with the excessive overload on my mind, I still woke up several times throughout the night waiting for the day to be over. As I finally started to feel rested enough to wake up, I looked at my alarm clock only to realize that I didn’t wake up early; I slept through the ringing. I jumped out of bed as quickly as possible, swept my hair in a bun, brushed my teeth and ran out of the house with my wallet to reach the testing destination. Luckily, with the luck of not being stuck at any red lights, I arrived to my testing designation with a few minutes to spare.

I always get home after school and prepare myself for the test the next day since it was very a challenging class. I studied very hard each day and night just to get a good grade in that class. After all the tests and quizzes that we took, l passed all the test with an A. I was very proud at myself for being able to pass all those tough test. This relate to my future goals because since l want to become a gynecologist in the future, this achievement have made me a strong students. Being a doctor is not an easy way to go but through the faith

I had enough confidence on my ability and knowledge that would help me do great on the midterm. I predicted an A on the exam based on the instructions I had followed for taking the test. On the exam day, I logged into the CANVAS where the midterm was located and after signing in to the midterm exam, it looked so simple. First part of the test was vocabulary which didn’t take me more than 5 minutes to get over it. The second part of the exam was the reading part. We would read a passage and then answered to the four option questions. Everything seemed as expected. During the exam, I felt confident that I would score A as it seemed as I got them all. I got as excited as I was progressing through my

During the week that followed the exam, quite a few students received invitations to attend the Anatomy tutorial sessions. One of the students was Ralph Kard. After his first tutorial session, Ralph had many of the same misgivings I had after my first session. He felt nervous watching Dr. Tower fondling his coffee mug, and was distracted by the many members of the Nod Squad who attended the sessions and the many minority students who

“Did I ever fail to tell you not to enter my class if you are late even in a single minute?” And the pitiful student left with nothing but a teary eyes.

Although I was confident that I had excelled during the exam, I was worried about getting an email stating that I failed. Failing the retake would mean waiting until the end of the semester to take the exam again. It was a stressful few days waiting for an email to appear in my inbox. Relief washed over me after I finally opened the long-awaited email. I had passed! At last, my hard work paid off. That semester I would finally have the chance to host my own show.