The classroom was unusually quiet, save for the soft scratching of pens and the occasional shuffle of papers.
My thoughts raced as I stared at the question in front of me.
"A teacher wants to develop a test that would measure group relations to create appropriate interventions. What type of test should be used?"
I paused, biting my lip.
“It has to be a sociometric test, right?” I whispered to myself, willing my brain to cooperate.
Yeah, it’s definitely a sociometric test.
Without a second thought, I scribbled my answer down on the paper and shot to my feet, eager to submit it.
All I wanted was to get out of that room and leave this midterm nightmare behind.
Studying for this exam had felt like a never-ending cycle of frustration, and I didn’t want to waste another second worrying about it.
Whatever happens, happens, I thought to myself.
Bahala na si Batman.
As I made my way to the front desk to submit my paper, I could feel the curious gazes of my classmates following me.
One of my friends even shot me a teasing smirk.
“Wow, that was quick! Didn’t you say you didn’t study?” she whispered with mock disbelief as I passed by.
I returned her grin, not bothering to explain.
There was no point.
I placed my paper on the desk, slipped my pen into my bag, and motioned to my seatmate that I’d be waiting for her outside.
I stepped out of the classroom, finally able to breathe freely.
The breeze felt refreshing against my skin, and I stood by the entrance, peeking through the window to see the expressions of my classmates still inside.
Their faces were full of frustration, no doubt struggling with questions that didn’t even come close to what we had reviewed.
I sighed in relief.
At least it wasn’t just me.
It didn’t matter anymore if my answer was right or wrong.
I was done thinking about it.
If I kept stressing over every little thing, I knew my head would start to ache again.
I’d leave my trust in God’s hands now.
Just then, my phone buzzed in my pocket, snapping me out of my thoughts.
I glanced at the screen—it was Kuya calling.
I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I should answer.
Part of me didn’t want to, but in the end, I sighed and picked up.
“Hello? Are you in school?” Kuya’s voice came through, sounding as calm.
“Yes, Kuya. I’m still here,” I answered, knowing what was coming next.
He hesitated, then asked, “Do you still have enough money? Why didn’t you stop by the shop earlier this morning?”
I bit my lip, a familiar heaviness settling in my chest.
“I was in a hurry, and I still have enough, Kuya. Don’t worry about me.”
The lie slipped out smoothly, though it stung.
I just didn’t have it in me to go to the shop today.
I wanted to avoid the hassle—and, honestly, the awkwardness—of asking for money again.
“Alright,” he said simply, though I could tell he wasn’t convinced.
Before the conversation could stretch any further, I ended the call with a quick goodbye.
I stuffed my phone back into my pocket, letting out a long sigh.
In truth, I wanted—needed—money.
But my pride held me back.
Asking for help from Kuya always felt like swallowing nails.
I knew that if I did, I might get scolded again, and the thought alone was unbearable.
I couldn’t risk it today, not with midterms still looming over my head.
One wrong word and I’d lose all focus.
Just as I was about to lose myself in my thoughts again, my classmate emerged from the classroom, her face a mix of exhaustion and amusement.
She gave me a knowing smile, and we started walking together toward the boarding house, chatting about how brutal the exams had been.
For now, at least, the test was over, and I could breathe a little easier.
Tomorrow was a new day—another chance to figure things out.
But today?
Today, I just wanted to rest.
YOU ARE READING
POV
Non-FictionLife often presents itself as a series of hurdles, each one taller than the last. These hurdles, though daunting, are not meant to break us but to shape us into who we are meant to be. It is through our darkest nights that we gain the strength to fa...
