The end of senior year is a weird sensation: you see the rest of the school working until the end, working to master their finals and not fail between now and that final test. Then you see them still struggling to learn – because at this point it’s really hard to absorb anything the teacher says. You remember at the end of the year how you crammed a years’ worth of information into your head for a test that lasts an hour and a half, just like the underclassmen are doing now. But you’re not doing any of that stuff. Because you’re a senior.
After three years of final exams at Sacred Heart, I’ve had my fair share of traumatic, speed-studying, cramming test experiences. But nothing trumps my sophomore year English final.
It was my last final, and I had prepared the whole night before to take this last test. The test went as usual, some multiple choice with vocabulary words I’m pretty sure we did not learn, but that’s okay because I was going to guess anyway, matching more vocab I did not know, and then an essay, where I made up a book location. At the end of the hour and a half, time was called and I, along with the rest of the class, went to hand in my test. So excited to be done and to be a junior, I stapled my essay to my test handed in my Scantron, put my pencils back in my backpack, zipped it up, put it on my back and walked out of that room. Following tradition, I discussed the essay and test with friends while I decided to skip track and take the bus home.
While on the bus, that test still on my mind I decided why not find out if I got those vocab questions right. I opened my backpack going to grab my vocab flashcards with style and lo and behold, my English final was in my back pack. For a few minutes on that bus I was astonished that my final was actually there with me. ‘How had that happened?’ was the only thing I could think, and then ‘what should I do?’, and then finally ‘is Ms. Weurth going to fail me?’ I got home, got off the bus and promptly called the school. I talked to Ms. Wuerth on the phone and explained what happened. Then at that point she wanted to know if my parents could drive me to school to drop off the exam and of course, it is the one day my parents do not answer their phones. So, I sadly called Ms. Weurth back and say, “My dad and mom didn’t answer their phones…” At this point, she told me she would come to my house and pick up the exam. This was shocking because when do teachers ever come to your house? About 10 minutes later, she showed up and I gave her my exam. I think the interaction went something along the lines of me apologizing a hundred times and repeating that I left the test in my back pack, I didn’t touch it, and I didn’t cheat.
I thought this was the end of this embarrassing and disastrous experience, but I was wrong. I was at the last meeting of book club junior year (for the free food, naturally), and Ms. Wuerth, the moderator of the club, brought it up with a nice “remember last year how you took home your final and I had to drive to your home to pick it up?” Needless to say, I’m not sure that I’ll ever forget this or live it down. So, as a warning to all underclassmen and graduating seniors I  say, DO NOT FORGET TO HAND IN YOUR FINAL!!!!!!