The Exam I Almost Missed

The final exam of the term was in my favourite subject, history, and I had spent two weeks on revision. My tutor had helped me review every chapter, and I felt ready. This assessment was important: if I didn't pass, I wouldn't be able to attend the advanced class next year.

On the morning of the exam, my alarm didn't ring. I woke up at eight thirty, and the exam started at nine. I jumped out of bed, put on yesterday's clothes and ran to the bus stop.

The bus came quickly, but after five minutes it stopped in the middle of the road. "Engine problem," the driver said. "Everyone off, please."

I ran. I ran past shops, across a park and up the hill to the school. My heart was beating so hard that I could hear it. When I arrived, it was nine twenty, and the door of the exam room was closed.

I knocked. The teacher opened the door and looked at me. "You're late," she said. Then she saw my face. "Sit down. You can still finish if you start now."

My hands were shaking, and for the first ten minutes I couldn't remember anything. Then I took a deep breath, and slowly all my knowledge came back. I finished the last question one minute before the end.

I passed, but I learned something more important than history that day. Panic had used more of my energy than the exam itself. Now I always prepare my things the night before and set two alarms. Being calm, I discovered, is a skill too.