E

Taking a math test is little cause for panic on a usual basis; there are no facts to memorize, only concepts to master. But this test was different. The results will determine my math education for the next four years, and possibly beyond. We arrived to the room at eleven, at which time the exam was supposed to begin with closed doors. They instructed us to take out a pencil, and I saw green slips of paper fluttering like dollar bills from my teacher's hand - the Scantron sheets. I realized with a sinking feeling that I had only prepared with a pen.

Back I dashed through the hallway, screaming for a pencil with might. No - no - no - only got one - no - yes. R produced a yellow pencil and I gratefully grabbed it, scurrying back to the exam room. Turning over the pencil, I noticed a small marking on its base - a number three.

It brought me back to the terror I felt at the end of fifth grade when I accidentally did my standardized tests in number three pencil. They were my qualifiers for the school of my dreams. And then I thought about what those tests got me: the school of my dreams, and absolutely no sleep. And I wondered why I was so anxious about not getting into advanced math when I should be worried about the other outcome.