It is drizzling outside, and the wind is blowing tiny raindrops and leaves against the windows, creating a soft background noise in the dead of night. Inside, under the dim light, the only sounds are the methodical ticking of the clock and the gentle trickling of water in the humidifier—oh, and the loud pounding of my heart beating violently in my chest. In a short while, an ordinary day would end, and another ordinary day would be ushered in. I try to make my hands stop sweating, but they won’t listen to my pleas. As the sweat increases and my heart beats faster, tomorrow is getting closer and closer.

My high school uses a “mod system” instead of semesters. Among the six mods in a year, Spanish will last for three. After midnight, tonight the grade of the second mod of Spanish will be released.

20 minutes until midnight.

This amount of time did not appear long or short, yet I cannot wait patiently. I strongly wanted to make a time machine, travel to the future twenty minutes ahead, and immediately see my report card. It will have an A on it, at least, I hope so. 

15 minutes.

Dread.

My mind wanders to Spanish class. There was a presentation at the beginning of the second mod: Haitians working without legal status in the Dominican Republic, live in fear daily. “Lo siento por ellos.” I remembered, when I had finished the last sentence of the presentation, my beating heart finally showed signs of slowing down. With the teacher’s “Thank you” and the sparse applause from my classmates, I returned to my seat and breathed a huge sigh of relief even though I was sure it wasn’t my best performance..

C+.

My teacher provided the following feedback on my presentation: “You should practice more for the next presentation. If you need help, you can come to my office hours.” Unfortunately, the teacher struggled to understand my words during my presentation. Indeed, without practicing pronunciation and enunciation in such a pressure-filled environment, it would be strange if others could understand my spoken words.  

10 minutes.

Perturbed.

My mood takes my reflection back to that Friday when I took a Spanish exam. While waiting for the test papers to be issued, anxiety enveloped my heart, and fear overtook my whole being. “Test begins!” I was dazzled by the questions on the test paper, so I had no choice but to bite the bullet and write down the answers I was unsure about. I had a theater performance the day before the exam, so I was especially tired after. When I returned to my room after the performance, I jumped into bed and buried myself in a cotton sandwich and traveled to dreamland. 

B-.

An electric current must have passed through my body. My inner thoughts began spinning out: Well…

If I had spent a little more time before bed and reviewed the worksheets again that night…

If I had gotten up earlier to look at the materials a few more times that morning…

If I worked harder throughout the entire mod…

If…

5 minutes.

Disturbed.

To distract myself in the final minutes, I recalled another experience: for the final task of the second mod in Spanish, we needed to complete a travel strategy to present to the class. Another presentation. I remember thinking I could redeem myself! So, I worked extra hard to research and gather all the pertinent information I needed. Then, I created a slideshow that would wow my teacher and peers with interesting information, engaging images, and impressive special effects. In the final stages of preparation, I practiced many times with classmates and worked on the clarity of my articulation. I felt confident that my project would be one of the best in the class. I walked to the whiteboard with confidence…

A!

Yes! I finally did it. An A! I worked hard and reached my potential. But was it enough to get me to an A in the class?Anxiety and the now much louder ticking clock bring me back to reality.

1 minute.

No more reminiscing and recounting my steps. I stared intently at the number on the screen: 11:59. My palms are still damp with sweat. My heart is so loud that I think it is beating in my ears.

:55

:56

:57

:58

:59

:00

I frantically refresh the page, let out a sigh of relief and click on the bright blue: “Mod 2 Report Card”. It is finally here. I click on it without hesitation.

“Please wait while the report is being generated.”

While waiting for the loading process, something the teacher said comes to the forefront of my mind: “Don't worry. If you don’t get an A this time, as long as you work hard, you will still be able to get an A in the final mod.”

Waiting for the page to load is like having a 100 ton stone laying on my chest, motionless and lingering. I close my eyes and breathe..

The most important answer finally reveals as I open my eyes.

92.83%.

A-.

Now, although an A- is an A, I still feel unwilling to accept the grade, just because of the small “minus.” If I worked harder, would the final grade not have included the minus sign? If I try my best and put in the same amount of effort every day, I will avoid the dreaded minus sign appearing in my report cards.