How To Write A Narrative Essay About My First Test

Throughout a majority of my academic career, I was a straight-A student. My grades were an extremely important thing to me; I reasoned that my grades were representative of my success and if I didn’t earn an A, then I was a failure. I cried and called myself a failure when I received my very first B. Catching my first glimpse of the B for the first time, my heart sank. ‘All of my hard work - for nothing!’, I thought to myself. I didn’t believe that I could have done better. After the second B, I considered that perhaps grades weren’t as important as I had originally thought. As time went on from my first B to my fourth, my heart sank less and the tears dried up. I began to notice the things I was doing wrong and used that information to turn

There, glaring up at me in bold, red ink against the crisp white paper was a C- . Comparing my grades to those of my classmates, it was revealed that they too had received these grades. What had we done wrong?

I closed my eyes in disbelief. I refreshed the page. I thought Ms. Platt had attached another student’s rubric to my essay. I wanted the nightmare to end. Not only did I not receive an “A” or a “B,” but a “C-.” I earned a seventy percent. My eyes watered, and I began to feel nauseous. I felt as if I failed myself and my family. This grade was not supposed to be possible. In the words of Grendel, it was an accident. But unfortunately, it was not. At that moment, I had to accept, even if I did not want to, that I, for once, did not reach my high goals or had to surrender my unrealistic view of myself. I had erred, like all humans do, and learned that I was not perfect and that I could fail to reach my standards. At that moment, I realized that I wasn’t superhuman but human, and this was something challenging for me to cope with at the time. However, in discovering my ability to fail, my perception of myself had been revolutionized.

Our teacher then gave us a reading schedule for the month, when to read about 15 pages on a given day. We would also have one five-question quiz per week on a day following a reading homework day to keep us in check. Normally I’d be nervous for these sort of quizzes, but after my failure on the first test I was motivated to redeem myself. I saw these assessments as practice for the eventual test, a sparring for the big fight. I had to take these readings seriously however, so I decided to take notes during the read.What was supposed to be a 45 minute task turned out to be a 2 to 3 hour burden. I was determined never to skip any scheduled reading as a quiz could occur the next. Sometimes I would stay up late just to finish writing and it wasn’t simple side notes, I wrote down the complete sentence word for word. When I finished a unit, the notes accumulated to a minimum of 9 pages.However, my hard work was not in vain as I aced the quiz, and the quiz after that. Before I knew it I aced the test, and the test after that. I am honestly glad that I failed that first test, otherwise I do not think I would have developed such a work

With the course of events of the first quarter, our Anatomy and Histology finals were anti-climactic. Everyone seemed to approach the exams with a new sense of confidence. As a result of the exams, I finished with a grade of 84 in Anatomy and 92 in Histology. The numbers were irrelevant because Keystone was on a Pass-Fail system in which only a "P" or "F" went on a student’s record for each course. Nevertheless, it felt good to be over the first

To prepare for my first AP Biology test I began studying five days before the test day. I did this because I knew this test was going to be hard and I

The night before the exam was filled with review videos, chapter summaries, scribbled, almost-illegible notes, and very little sleep. I had known the date of the  exam since the day I had registered for it over 6 months ago, and yet I had neglected to do one bit of studying until the literal last minute before the exam. To make matters even worse, I had taken the actual course during the previous semester, so the material was not exactly what you would call "fresh in my mind". I had procrastinated my way  through 6 months of waiting, and now the time had finally come. I was about to take the AP Psychology for the first and only time in my life, and I had not studied a day since the final exam.

It’s ENC 1101, Not knowing what to expect I entered the room with absolute fear, after all it was my first year of college. Although I’ve never been quite fond of English in the past, I’ve always excelled in the subject. I had yet to work for my grade and no English course I had taken proved to be a challenge through my eyes. I am a huge procrastinator, if not one of the biggest when it comes to assignments. I most likely wrote papers the night before or the day of and still managed to average an “A” on all of them. This bad habit led me to believe that I was cheating myself. Throughout my scholastic years I always had the mentality of asking “what could this class possibly teach me that I didn’t already know?” I believed that my writing

The clock ticked by quietly, as my 6th grade teacher Mr. Parson rapidly went around the classroom to pass out the math tests. Sweat was dripping off my face and I could not stop fidgeting with my fingers. Mr. Parson smiled as he came to give me my math test. I smiled at him nervously. I slowly looked at my test score and grinned. Thankfully, I received an A on the test. (#15) Sometimes I was a little lazy and wasn’t really successful as a 6th grader. Other times, I was always working hard and earned good grades. Because of my friends, teacher, and older sisters, I was able to find success in 6th grade.

“Only an 84? Wow.” I whipped my head around to see who dared to say that. I was happy with my score, for it was a great improvement from my past grade. I knew how much I had worked for this and I felt proud, but my arch-nemesis, Michael Sober, ;;;;;

I managed to pull an A in my Gen Bio II class; however this task was far from easy. While I met the expectations placed on myself, it was difficult to watch my five year old cousin lose her sight. Despite the pain she had endured, I was relieved to find out that the cancer hadn't spread to her lymph nodes. Unaware that her sight was lost on both eyes, my mom purchased a Frozen blanket and an Annie doll before we delivered it to my older cousin and her grandma. When we received the news about her surgery and the outcome, I felt my heart; as for my mother, her face looked as though it dropped. Even though my first day of summer class was going to start, my mother and I couldn't fall asleep that night. Once I started my first week of class, my grandfather underwent double by pass surgery. Before my first exam, I spent most days in a cold waiting room in hopes of seeing my grandfather. My uncles teased me about constantly studying while I waited there. While Grandpa did managed to wake up and improve his health conditions prior to the first Biology lecture exam, my concentration was not at its optimal. I failed my first exam with a 68. That night, I cried and was too ashamed to eat dinner. From then on, I spend time a few hours at the library

I hate writing tests! It’s as simple as that. I hate the feel of a rough pen on my soft, delicate hands, which have vanquished after putting up a hard fight. I hate my brain desperately struggling to recollect information, from the inadequate study period from the previous night. Most of all, I hate the collecting of the results of an inevitable failure, doomed to face me at the end. Looking back at this picture, of me writing that unbearable test, I remember. I remember a feeling reassembling itself to me in tiny fragments, one by one, and for a brief moment, so microscopic it cannot be measured in time, my heart skips a beat. Then, and then alone I am brought back to that room, to that desk, to that test, and all I feel is hate.

For years now educators have been looking for ways to teacher their student successfully while also having them ready for high stakes testing. While many teachers believe that it is impossible to accomplish both things at the same time research has proven the exact opposite. In this paper I will discuss a strategy that will perhaps change the mind of some teachers (Reich & Bally, 2010).

*This challenge is similar to that of 13, but I chose not to use that one only because it was too extreme for my personal case. Yes, I do go into tests with negative thoughts but I never assume that I am going to fail. If anything, I worry about possibly receiving a “B,” which unfortunately is the equivalent to failing for me. I always strive for achieving the very best academically, meaning I have to earn an “A” on all of the tests I take and the essays that I

Knowing I didn’t study, I held in my breath and closed my eyes as he handed me the three sheets of scribbles and sloppily circled answers. Slowly I opened my eyes and looked down at my grade, and there it was, 49%. My first failing grade. My cheeks turned as red as the sharpie the teacher used to mark my paper. Embarrassment and shame crashed over me. Page flip after page flip, I scanned my mistakes and then immediately shoved the papers into my folder. Other classmates were gawking at their success and I didn’t want them to see my failure. That grade haunted my mind for forever, it seemed.