The Encouraging Stranger

I was studying at a Panera bread when I heard my phone's notification sound. It was a soft chime which I knew meant I had received an e-mail from Outlook, the e-mail service that I use for school. I picked up my phone and realized it was an autoupdate informing me that my quiz grade was posted.

My heart raced as I had been waiting since Monday to find out. This was my second time taking this class, after having just barely missed the 76% critical minimum to pass the term prior. I wanted to do better. I had 6 quizzes, 1 midterm and 1 final to do it. If I don't pass this class this term then I am out of the program for sure--no choice, they WILL kick me out.

"I could only have missed 3, perhaps 4 at the most which would still give me a B or higher" was what I had been thinking every few hours since after taking my quiz onMonday.

My heart sunk when I saw 48/75. I knew that it was below 70% and it came as a shock to me. I had studied so much for this quiz hours every night and during the day when I could. I felt fatigued, and I was probably a bit pale. Suddenly my surroundings in the cafe were quieter as I began to withdraw into myself -- a feeling of hopelessness and confusion overwhelming me. Suddenly my textbook, opened in front of me on my table looked foreign, more so than usual. I turned a few pages, feeling like not reading them would be the same thing as reading them, given my quiz results. I felt my face stiffen. I was lost. I texted my mom who on several nights was my study buddy, helping to study with me and encourage me since after barely failing the same class prior. She called me and shared my feeling of shock at the results--not sure of how this could have happened.

I e-mailed my professor and contacted campus tutoring.

I was frustrated. I knew that I could not find out what questions I got wrong, hence I felt like the quiz was eatting away at me even more.

I slammed my book closed and took a breath, before getting up to go to the restroom. I washed my hands and face, looking at the mirror, hoping I could let this go and learn from it right now, and drop this feeling of hopelessness. It lingered.

I returned to my table and a man in maroon scrubs walked by me. He had been sitting in the table in front me, which I had not really noticed until now.

"What are you studying? Anatomy? "

"Oh, Nursing.. "

"That's good. Keep studying. Don't give up. We need nurses out there. "

"Haha yeah, I'm trying. "

"Don't give up. It's tough, I know. "

" Yeah, it IS tough.. thank you sir. "

I was still too demoralized to show greater social and kind candor. Later, maybe an hour later, I felt a bit of relief, recalling what the stranger in scrubs had said to me. I knew that I should not and would not give up. I just felt so helpless after having worked so hard for a poor score. Maybe this is a learning step for me and a way for me to come out of suffering stronger.

TO that stranger in scrubs, thank you so much. I hope you are well.