…pretend to have read the reading and prayed you wouldn’t be cold-called.
PRETEND TO HAVE READ THE READING AND PRAYED YOU WOULDN’T BE COLD-CALLED.
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Let’s be honest. Amidst the intense intellectual demands, the endless paper deadlines, and the pursuit of academic excellence, there was always that one seminar. The one where the reading list was less a suggestion and more a small library. You’d skim, you’d highlight the abstract, maybe even read the first and last paragraphs, but deep down, you knew you hadn’t truly read it. Not all of it, anyway.
Yet, there you sat, ready for battle. You perfected the confident nod, the thoughtful gaze out the window, occasionally interjecting with a vague, yet profound-sounding, comment. Internally, however, a silent mantra played on repeat: "Please don't call on me. Please don't call on me." Every raised hand from a classmate felt like a temporary reprieve. Every moment the professor's gaze swept past you was a tiny victory.
It's a shared secret, isn't it? That universal moment of panic when the professor paused, eyes scanning the room, before landing on an unsuspecting soul. The collective sigh of relief, often unspoken but universally felt, when it wasn't you. This wasn't about being unprepared; it was about survival, about juggling an impossible workload, and still showing up. It was part of the unique crucible that shaped us.
Did you even go if you didn't experience that particular blend of terror and triumph?