I walk into the gym. All I can see is rows of desks filled with nervous students waiting to get this exam over with. I go and sit in the back corner of the room, trying to hide hoping nobody will notice me.  I feel the regret settling in my stomach.  I tap my toes against the wooden gym floor, silently hoping for a miracle. I can’t help but get mad at myself. Why didn’t I wake up those early morning and show up to class? I have absolutely no clue on what is going to be on this exam. I see the exams being passed down; I can hear the clicking of the pencils as each student begins to write their exam. I finally get my exam. I took a deep breath and opened up my exam. I didn’t know where to start. I flipped each page hoping I knew something but page after page it all looked like a foreign language to me. My stomach dropped, I was so disappointed with myself.  I could hear the scratching of the pencil on paper as other students were scrambling to finish their exam. I wished that was me, I wish I did make an effort to go to class. I started with the multiple choice. Guess after guess, I was hoping that maybe at least one or two would be right. I then go onto the short answers and I see students leaving. My heart starts racing. “I haven’ t even finished half of this exam how am I ever going to get this done.”