Failing an exam is an awful feeling. But, I’ve got to say, failing an exam that you studied really hard for feels even worse. That was me about a month ago, and I still cringe thinking about it. That being said, I bounced back from the initial shock pretty quickly— a cry now, laugh later kind of thing. I talked myself out of the hole, and if you ever find yourself in this position, I’m here to talk you out of yours.
I’m not a great test taker and I never was, especially in high school. I didn’t like the constricting feeling of multiple-choice; I always thought the best way to show my knowledge on a topic was to write it out. Also, I loathed when teachers would make every multiple-choice answer sound the same (like… do you want me to fail?). I start to freeze up, I overcomplicate things, and it is just an all-around disaster. I’m also a pretty hard-headed gal, and when I decide I don’t like something I will never like it. So, it’s probably easy to conclude that tests and I just never got along. Test-taking resentment aside, I’ve been pretty impressed with how I’ve improved my test-taking skills in college. Failing an exam almost made me throw all of that pride in the trash.
Let me start from the beginning here. I had what seemed like a pretty large test during the fourth week of classes. There was a lot of material covered over those four weeks of classes, but I’ve dealt with more. I was slightly overwhelmed but studied in the most effective way I knew how: making a Quizlet, annotating my notes, and memorizing the big topics we brought into conversation almost every day. And let me tell you, I thought I knew it all. I was reciting facts left and right and practically felt like I could give my own lecture on the spot. I was shocked I could get it all down so quickly.
So far so good, right? Wrong.
The day of the exam, I sat confidently in my seat waiting with my favorite black pen in hand (yes, a Pilot G-2). Once the professor handed me my copy, I was immediately unnerved. I had a million thoughts at once: they said the exam was covering weeks one to four… why is the test only two pages front and back? They said it would be a combination of short answers and multiple choice. Maybe this is just the answer key. Oh shit, now they’re passing out the actual answer key. Boom. Suddenly, I was finished before I even began. That good ol’ high school feeling crept back up on me, and I felt myself freezing. I was able to calm down for a moment by reminding myself that if anything, I was just overprepared. I was quickly proven wrong upon opening the test. A lot of the material I studied was big-picture facts and information. These questions were whittled down to just the specifics. Coming in at just 25 questions, 21 multiple choice and 3 one-word “short answers,” I knew this grade was going to be humbling. Not only did I feel like I had studied the completely wrong information, but I also did not have much room for error.
The grades came out about a day and a half later. I foolishly checked my grade in the middle of Starbucks, where I had that instantaneous sinking feeling in my stomach and the background noise turned fuzzy. I failed, and I failed miserably. I knew it wouldn’t be my best, but I certainly didn’t think it would be THAT bad. I walked back to my room and almost felt delirious, I was still trying to process the number on my screen. When I was finally alone, I opened my Courseworks again. My grade was the lowest one. As I stared blankly at the screen, I got an email from the professor alerting us that the grades were posted (thanks for the tip, I know). Like rubbing salt in the wound, my professor so kindly also added the highest and lowest grade in their email, just to make sure everyone knew that someone had failed horrendously. The emotion smacked me in the face, the floodgates opened, and my mom was on speed dial. I could barely choke out the words and I honestly just debated hanging up entirely as soon as she picked up the phone. I was so embarrassed to tell her I failed. She was calm, though, and our conversation made me realize that this failed exam was not the end of my life. Sometimes we don’t want to talk to someone else about this kind of stuff, though, and that’s what I’m here for.
What brought me the most comfort in my mom and I’s conversation was her assertion that I was certainly not the only person to fail an exam in that class, during that week, in the whole University. I probably walked by ten other people that day who had also found out they failed a test, an assignment, something. It’s easy to feel like the first person to ever fail an exam at Columbia when you’re surrounded by such intelligent classmates. But I’m here too, I’m STILL here. I’m still smart and I’m still worthy of being a student at this University. One failed exam does not determine my entire college career. Sure, it’s definitely discouraging, but once I got over that initial embarrassment and bruised ego, I knew deep down that my self-worth and intelligence are not determined by one grade, or any grade, for that matter.
So reader, if you’ve found yourself in the same position as me from a month ago, it’s okay to be sad. After all, you’re a human being under a considerable amount of stress. Remember that you are not the first or last person to fail. And honestly, you and I will both do it again at some point because failure is just a tricky part of life. Get back on the horse, go to office hours (and don’t be embarrassed to!), and just try again next time. All we can do is our best, and that will always be enough. Like Taylor Swift says in “Labryinth,” breathe in, breathe through, breathe deep, breathe out. You can do it.