The Emotions Experienced During PSAT Testing: Before, During, and After

So I took the PSAT Wednesday... Yes, I, a brave soul embarking on a relatively new form of school (tests not at home, being I am homeschooled), walked into that testing room with my three, newly sharpened, n.2 pencils and favorite, beloved calculator (the one I've bonded with throughout algebra 1 and 2), and tested.  It wasn't my first time testing there, so I wasn't completely unprepared for the "conditions" of the testing area.

I wasn't too too nervous about it, although I had plenty of reason to be.  For the past three weeks I've been battling this absolutely HORRIBLE virus that's going around in my town, and it put me in bed for two weeks.  Those two weeks were the weeks that I was going to take like all my nights and study for.  Yeah... you see the big picture.  I have been studying throughout the year, but I was going to like STUDY STUDY STUDY those two weeks.  Ended up I was in bed.  Yup.

I will now proceed to explain my reactions.  

During the two "sick" weeks

Sick Week 1:

I was so miserable, I didn't even think about studying.

Sick Week 2:

"W-wait... how many days till testing day?" 

Then my mom reminded me.  That's when the panicking began.

And then came the begging part.  Begging my mom to help prepare me in just a few days.

My life became PSAT.  All it consisted of was math, critical reading, and writing skills.  Filling in those maniacal little letters, a-e.  

Was pretty much feeling drained... defeated... sore... cranky...

The day before testing, Tuesday, though, I regained confidence when I took a practice test and DID RIDICULOUSLY WELL IN MY SCORES.  So when Wednesday came, I was pumped!  Walked into the school beside my bestie, the one person who I'd want to test with, and felt awesome!

Afterwards... *sigh* ... well, let's just say that chicken sandwich and waffle fries was well deserved.

~Angelina Zoe <3

The Hand That Rocks the Cradle: A Poem to Ponder

 My mom showed me this poem the other day and I absolutely fell in love with it, rereading it over and over again.  This poem is so true and shows the true job of mothers and the impact they have in the world.  For women, at least, and teenage girls (like me) trying to make an impact on the world, trying to make a difference, and trying to make better life.  Read this poem and just let it sink in.  

Blessings on the hand of women!

Angels guard its strength and grace,

In the palace, cottage, hovel,

Oh, no matter where the place;

Would that never storms assailed it,

Rainbows ever gently curled;

For the hand that rocks the cradle

Is the hand that rules the world.

Infancy’s the tender fountain,

Power may with beauty flow,

Mother’s first to guide the streamlets,

From them souls unresting grow—

Grow on for the good or evil,

Sunshine streamed or evil hurled;

For the hand that rocks the cradle

Is the hand that rules the world.

Woman, how divine your mission

Here upon our natal sod!

Keep, oh, keep the young heart open

Always to the breath of God!

All true trophies of the ages

Are from mother-love impearled;

For the hand that rocks the cradle

Is the hand that rules the world.

Blessings on the hand of women!

Fathers, sons, and daughters cry,

And the sacred song is mingled

With the worship in the sky –

Mingles where no tempest darkens,

Rainbows evermore are hurled;

For the hand that rocks the cradle

Is the hand that rules the world.

-William Ross Wallace