Break out the Gatorade and sweat bands...it's that time of year. It's the Superbowl of school. Also known as finals week. Personally, I loved finals as an undergraduate. I lived for them. Yes, I know I am a sick and twisted individual. I psyched myself up for them like I did when I played basketball. For three hours, you put it all on the line. Everything you've learned for the semester in a blue book. Or three. Or four. Then when you're done, you feel so free. Like you just won the championship game and you're going to Disney Land. Or if not, at least you know that you left it all at your desk.
Now, I'm a grad student. We don't have finals. But as I stare my final papers in the face, Scandal featuring Patty Smyth will be my theme song. I would much rather be held captive in a classroom for three hours taking an exam, but it's the fourth quarter and I'm not about to lose.