Death by 8 A.M.’s

If you get to know me, you would know that for the most part I am a relaxed, goofy person. However, I am serious about my grades and school performance. I am the student to stay up until 3 a.m. doing homework, knowing I have an 8 a.m. class that morning.

I am the student that does my homework days in advanced, so that I can relax later. I am the student that shows up at least 10-15 minutes early to class in order to get a decent seat in the front. Most importantly, I am a perfectionist and my biggest critic.

If being a great student and making good grades was a talent, I would be a superstar. But hey… we can’t be great at everything. Unfortunately, my time management skills have always been quite mediocre. I could have two hours to get ready for an event, and I guarantee you I will find a way to spread that time out and be late. I was determined to do better in college.

Therefore, I was proud of myself for being early to all my college classes and managing my time better, but all good things must come to an end.

Imagine my dismay when I woke up at 8:20 a.m. for an 8 a.m. biology lab class. Biology lab is a one time a week class and if you are more than 15 minutes late, you might as well take an “L” for the day because you are going to be counted absent.

However, I still wanted to turn in my lab report to receive some credit points for the day. While dealing with this stressful morning, I naturally did what any responsible, independent adult would do—get ready in under five minutes and run out the door crying to mommy. I cried, panicking that my grade would be harmed, my professor would think less of me, and that three weeks into college I was already failing at simple things like waking up.

How would I explain to my teacher that my alarm clock did not go off and my internal clock stabbed me in the back and chose not to wake me up either? This was not high school anymore where you could miss class today and catch up tomorrow. The class was only once a week! I had to be there.

Despite my mom’s efforts to calm me down (which was surprising because I was expecting a disappointed lecture), all I could see was my grade plummeting into a abyss saying, “Albani you failed and you can kiss being a superstar student goodbye… but no need to worry. C’s get degrees.” I was so upset.

Furthermore, when I walked into my lab class, the professor was instructing and all the students were silently working on their lab reports; unfortunately, all eyes became distracted by my walk of shame and disgruntled hair that was horribly hidden under a hat pleading, “Don’t ask. Tough morning.” All I could do was look at my professor and mouth the words, “I’m so sorry”, while sitting down in defeat.

Thankfully my professor knew that being 40 minutes late was not of my character. After countless apologies and explanations, she said she could tell by my work ethic that I cared about the class and she could forgive me this time. Thank God for kindhearted, understanding individuals. Ultimately, I got all my lab work done and all was well. No C’s for me. Moral of the story: God is good and never willingly take 8 a.m. classes.