Have you ever had a nightmare where you thought you aced an exam and then realized that all your answers on the multiple-choice Scantron sheet had been shifted up one? Or one where you turned in your All-State audition at 12 a.m. instead of 11:59 p.m., after perfecting it for weeks? Or one where your favorite teacher started yelling at you through the microphone because … well, the list goes on.
Let’s pretend it’s a Red Day on Friday the 13th, and fate has conspired against you.
5:30 a.m.
The worst days are always the ones that start before they’re supposed to. Especially when you wake up early to study for a 50-point Chemistry exam in three hours — your bed has never looked more inviting. From your desk, those plush blankets, the cool pillow and your fluffy teddy bear make you feel like Tantalus reaching for the fruit trees.
8:30 a.m.
Nothing beats road rage at the student drop-off zone and parking lot right before the bell for first period rings. Juniors grumbling at parents in the wrong drop-off zone, seniors snarling at juniors for parking in the senior parking lot, teachers growling at seniors in the staff parking lot — every direction you look is chaos. And … shoot. The bell rings while you’re still in the car.
8:36 a.m.
Time for the walk of shame into the classroom — if you’re lucky, Mrs. Cahatol might even start yelling “SHAME! SHAME!” as you walk over to the phone caddy, cheeks burning in embarrassment. You speed-walk to your seat, realizing that you’re losing time on your test. Of course your pencil is dull too, and everyone turns their heads to stare when you suddenly jump up and run to the pencil sharpener in the middle of the exam.
9:55 a.m.
You end up guessing on at least 10 problems on the multiple-choice section and don’t finish the free-response section. Aargh! You wallow in shock on shaky legs as you exit the room, but, hey, at least it’s over now. You spot your friends in the English wing studying for the Chemistry test you just took — and they keep talking about the test when all you want to do is bury it 10 feet deep.
12:05 p.m.
After another AP US History lecture on industrialization and textiles of the 1800s, hearing the blaring lunch bell sounds like heaven. You pack your bag hurriedly, racing through the halls and competing with the scores of freshman boys to the lunch line. But by the time you get there, the line is already flooding into the quad, and you end up tripping over the mountain of backpacks. Still, even if the chocolate milk smells a bit suspicious, it’s free, so it’s got to be worth it.
3:30 p.m.
After finishing up your 7th-period math test and blanking on all the derivatives of all the inverse trigonometric functions, you’re ready to go home. But with 15 long minutes left of the school day, your classmates have different ideas: They’re having a blast repeating “six seven” in 10 different variations. You feel your brain rotting and math skills deteriorating as their chants ring in your ears.
5:30 p.m.
Oh no … A 10-0 loss against Los Gatos won’t look good on our field hockey record. Coach says he has never in his decades-long career lost this bad before — he’s so disappointed he’s laughing, not yelling. For the record, I think we lost because of the 101-degree weather.
7 p.m.
So far the highlight of your day was dinner, and now a mountain of homework awaits you on your desk table — including that 40-question math problem set, each with parts a, b and c. You sit there, staring at the textbook PDF on your computer and thinking you should’ve listened to your counselor last year during class selection. Is it too late to drop?
11:30 p.m.
You’ve brushed your teeth, put on your contact lenses, tucked yourself into bed and watched a few Instagram reels to treat yourself. Off to dreamland, where sevens are sixes and the mitochondria is two feet tall. Suddenly your eyes fly open and you remember that you haven’t finished those 40 pages of “Beloved” reading for the Socratic Seminar tomorrow morning. It’s getting pretty late, though; you decide to do it tomorrow morning after getting some sleep.
And the cycle repeats itself. Funnily enough, this “worst day” is looking a bit too much like what the rest of this week has looked like …
