Running late again socks would certainly fit my foot as well as it has my life motto. Though I have developed some methods of practice to avoid this typical tardiness routine, I recall a specific event from my junior year of high school to exemplify my lack of punctuality. Standardized testing has long been a method of measuring student understanding of different subjects. For me, this was a test of much more.
I awoke before sunrise the day of my first SAT exam. Turning over, I stared at the bag I had prepared of No. 2 pencils, a calculator, ID, and various other essentials for the test. The sheets of my bed were the only thing blocking the cold air of this early March morning from my skin. I took a deep breath after a night of tossing and turning and thinking about math equations and grammar tactics before getting up to prepare for the big day. I moved swiftly from the sheets to my dresser to throw on sweatpants and a hoodie. Dress for success. I brushed my teeth, ate some granola, grabbed my car keys and kissed my mother goodbye. I exited the house confidently, ready to rock the exam that would determine a large part of my future.
Driving my car to the assessment which was a few towns away, I anticipated an early arrival 20 minutes before start time. I felt hopeful, empowered, prepared, but off... Something was wrong. I ran through everything in my head. What didn't feel right? I looked to the empty seat beside me, the spot where I would normally put my bag... MY BAG! The one with everything I needed to endure this examination. Already halfway there, I pulled a U-turn in a not so legal fashion. Desperate times call for desperate measures! Unfortunately the police officer who pulled me over did not agree. I finally got back home, grabbed my bag, kissed my mother goodbye, and speedily made way for the test.
Stumbling through the front door of the school building, I presented my identification in my trembling sweaty hand as they told me the doors to the test were closed. I explained my situation and pleaded for empathy, finally convincing the administrators to allow me into a room for testing. Busting through the classroom door and into the quiet room I threw my bag down in frustration, took my seat, and acknowledged this as part one of the SAT.
One traffic violation, three standardized tests and a college experience into the future, I now write blogs about socks. Just not always on time (I was supposed to write this three days ago). If you have experienced life similarly, if this harping habit has set you behind, then these socks are for you too.