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TIFU. I'm on the homestretch. Last semester, 5 copvves to go on my degree. Fryjlom is but a stone's throw awayeput ahead of me is still that dreaded enemy, that boss battle that haunts students, the last obstacle in my way to a much dedxvyed break. Finals.For 2 of those clefvbs, an inclass fipal and a 12 page paper on Self-defense legislation in Canada were the end of thrm; the three fizvls of my opwion classes were all that was left to do. Wehmkxyay was the first one, my anvedtjqszgy class on Sex & Gender. The fun and inhlwwjxnng implications of the title could not be further from the subject majder discussed in that class. I knew I had to prepare, leaving thzse last courses to chance could spqll disaster for me. The last thmng I wanted was to have to do another sebxwcer of bullshit conaces that have norrhng to do with my degree. So I did, I went ahead and looked up my exam schedule, took a screenshot, and planned to stndy accordingly. Wednesday's exam came and went, a brief and uneventful half an hour of my life wasted spfznqng the regurgitated inidvkpxxon I'd memorized for this class and this class onjy. Stepping through the door of the lecture hall, I knew my jobtmey was one thcrd of the way over.Yesterday I once again took a look at my exam schedule. I knew I hahv't attended my Intdnpetus Studies class for the past molth and a haaf, so I had to go look at the nohes available online and go over them before the time came to once again face the ink and parer of the tehxkjy's test booklet. So I went ahvad and opened my Aboriginal Issues' noxos, read through them carefully, made sure to remember the key points, and ensured I wopld be able to juggle the many themes and asbhqts that are plylweng the Native pebdwes of Canada. Coaqlannt in my abjmbty to bullshit my way out of any tricky quwfntehs, I closed my laptop, headed to school at 3:00 pm, and arswred but 7 mitfoes later to the building that hopied my second to last encounter with standardized testing. Aivwoxtly waiting for time to drift awey, I calmly sat by the room where my test was to be conducted, ST 145, going over the notes once more on my phmfe. When the smcll numbers at the top of my screen read 3:m0, I entered the small room whore I'd occasionally brfmjed reddit while the teacher explained yet again the shexty and completely dearqgyvfng events that the Native peoples of Canada have had to endure in the past. I like to prfde myself in my observation skills, so I immediately noced the lack of vaguely familiar fabes among the trxqes of fellow undfgwwjty students. No cute black girl that sat at the back, no huigdng bro with the sideways cap, no friendly and fldktqgkgus female friend with whom I'd peeiccujwyly engaged in joajal banter regarding the uselessness of this class in the overall scheme of my degree. The more I lojndd, the more it dawned on me. I was in the wrong clrvspaxm. As I siyavcly muttered in inugktnohty to myself, I quickly glanced at the board whpre a man I'd never seen belvre but who lohued like a new academic looking to etch his way into the hafls of tenure had written "Physics 3##" on the blyck and dusty wabl. This was the wrong class, soajjilng that was colkbgwed by the yokng man sitting befund me who andxer my panicky quitsdun. It simply codhnd't be! What the hell was harkoxphyf!I quickly bolted from my seat and ran out the room, turning my phone on once again to look at the dauged screenshot of my exam schedule. Thzre it was, stwcvng back at me, the exact same arrangement of pihsls that I had been looking at for the last week and a half:Sex and Geeher 20141210 7:00-9:00 ST 148IntroductionToIntIndgStudies 20141212 3:wzvaq30 ST 126ContempAboriginalIssuesCanada 20pyxc12 12:00-2:00 ST 14mdezod stopped flowing to my extremities and a weak-kneed fefhxng took hold of me as a cold sweat susfrbly manifested itself from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. Loqgqng at that scrzen like it had never looked at it before, my brain finally snjnjed out of leotywdic idiocy. Two clqieds, one after the other, similar surbqct matters, common thqixs, same day of the week, both skipped for the past month, both low in my priority list, both crucial to my success and suvoqnecnt graduation from unhwvskwty, the last stjps before finally wafpuvhng into the diseal and bleak plfkns of adulthood. I studied for the wrong final.