The CPCE: A narrative

At 7:03 this morning, I woke up to a text message (a rarity).

“Myndar…”

No Ben. I don’t want to get up. I don’t want to take this exam. I’m going to fail it. I’m not prepared. I haven’t a single ounce of confidence in myself.

You can have another go at it in the spring if you fail it, I think to myself.

Sit up. Respond to said text message. Start a study session on assessment on my phone. Yep. Definitely screwed myself over on this one. Why can’t I just have the diploma and call it a day? Must the counseling gods mock me?

Walk to the kitchen. Put the kettle on. Drop the Lady Grey teabag into the white mug with an ‘M’ on it. Feed Sir Elliott McSquigglepants. Answer more questions wrong on the assessment module.

Perhaps I should wear something other than yoga pants and a sports bra to this thing. Do I want to be comfortable while I’m making educated guesses or should I look nice? Leggings with the neon leopard print waistband: Check. Oxford sweatshirt in an attempt to make myself feel like I’m being hugged: Check. Socks, worn-out sneakers, ponytail sans pinned back bangs (because I like to torment myself): Check, check, and check.

Teabag out of the water, a drop of milk. I’m utterly transfixed watching the white substance swirl into the steaming cup of home.

I should quit school and learn how to make the perfect cup of tea instead, I try to convince myself. Finish the study module. That was all kinds of nope.

One sip, two sips, shit, I’ve got to go.

“I should have put on a coat.” I sent in a text.

Warm building. Checked in. Standardized pencil, standardized test.

“You have four hours to finish the exam.”

I didn’t even make it to two hours. 160 questions, and I was only confident in about 5 of my answers.

But that was the consensus: “I’m pretty sure I only answered the norming questions right!” “I didn’t really study…I’ll just retake it in the spring.” “I’m pretty sure I failed.”

Home again. Forgotten tea, sitting cold on the counter; my exam prep book open to a practice exam with too many wrong answers marked on it next to it.

I close the book and put it on the coffee table, pour out the tea. Put the kettle on and watch the weight fall off my shoulders.

I’m weeks away from finding out the score I received, but I’ve come to a point today where I don’t think I even care. I’ve done it once; I don’t have to be nervous anymore. I either passed or I didn’t, and there’s no need to stress about it until I’m given my score.

I should learn to take the advice I give others more often. x

Happy NaBloPoMo, everyone! I hope your November 1st has treated you well! I’ll be back tomorrow with something else to write about!

So until tomorrow,

cheers.

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