The United States’ academic culture today perpetuates the notion that exam week is something to be objectively feared — a professor-inflicted monstrosity that shows up once a semester. It’s an experience through which students must suffer as the martyrs they are. Of course, this outlook is somewhat biased; though, it serves as a bonding point for many who dread the bombardment of tests.
So often in groups of students, peers veer away from thoughts of required cumulative knowledge, impossible multiple-choice questions, essays that must be written without outlines and topics they have yet to study, trying their best to avoid breaching the subject of exams amongst themselves. When a brave soul ventures to approach the topic — risking social stigmatization (i.e. “Taylor only wants to talk about school”) — and thereby brings it to the forefront of conversation, the group members bemoan their common, abject fate.
Perhaps that’s an exaggeration. However, the idea that a looming event will remain nonexistent in its place in the future as long as one refuses to acknowledge it is not the most conducive to our future success.
In 2012, economist Keith Chen released findings that suggested that people who speak in languages that do not contain a strong future tense tend to be better at planning for the future than those who do not. For instance, while an English speaker would say, “Next year I will vacation in Florida,” it would be more suitable for a Finnish speaker to say, “I vacation in Florida next year.” Closing the gap between future and present allows those who don’t utilize a strong future tense to associate more with the consequences of their current actions.
I don’t mean to suggest an overhaul of the English language. In that regard, more pressing matters come to mind (such as how the plural of “goose” is “geese,” yet the plural of “moose” is still “moose”). Nor do I wish to vouch for the theoretical amusement that everyone should derive from exam week. It is not a particularly fun week. But what is important is that we, to a larger extent, begin to relate our choices in the present to the outcomes we may have to accept in the future.
Though it may not seem like it, the future is as integral to our existence as the present. Despite that we can’t perceive it as being here right now at this very second, we should realize that one day we will have to live in it. If we spend our time being frightened of the inevitable, we risk making the avoidable inevitable, such as exam stress and academic failure.
In today’s social media-saturated environment, the belief that people should be able to say or do whatever they want without facing appropriate penalty is rampant (I would advise looking at certain subreddit forums for examples, but I really wouldn’t want to subject anyone to that). More specifically, there seems to be a disconnect between how people view their actions, such as procrastination, and the consequences of those actions, such as poor grades. However, respective consequences should not be isolated from their actions — slacking off today should not be separated from the possible feelings of remorse accompanying tomorrow’s bad test grade.
Along these lines, most decisions we make ultimately sustain the opportunity for personal growth. This doesn’t mean that we should consider every menial choice to be of the utmost importance, but instead that we should be more careful in allotting the time we have. Compartmentalizing as a way to evade impending responsibilities and events that can affect you extensively is, in itself, a form of denial. In this way, exam week should not merely be dreaded from afar; it should also be seen as a chance to bolster our futures.
Fear makes everything worse
