Wasn′t Ready for Classes
I found myself waking up feeling unusually tired and drained. The thought of attending classes seemed daunting, and my body yearned for a few more hours of sleep. I laid there in bed, contemplating whether to push through or give in to my exhaustion.
Just as I was about to surrender to the idea of skipping class, my phone buzzed with an incoming call. It was my friend, Sam, who was scheduled to have the same class as me that morning. Curiosity piqued, I answered the call, and Sam's voice echoed through the receiver.
"Hey, are you coming to class today?" Sam asked, concern threaded in his words. "Remember, this lecture is really important. It's going to cover the topics that will be on the upcoming exam."
His reminder jolted me out of my lethargy. I appreciated his concern and the fact that he reached out to check on me. It made me realize that this class held significance not just for me, but for my academic progress.
With a newfound determination, I mustered the energy to get out of bed. However, the tiredness clung to me like a weight, making even the simplest tasks feel arduous. I sluggishly moved through the morning routine, dragging myself to get dressed and pack my bag for school.
In spite of my best efforts, time slipped away faster than I anticipated, and I soon found myself running late for the class. Panic and desperation intertwined, pushing me to concoct a plan to be admitted into the classroom without too many questions asked.
Arriving at the classroom door, I took a deep breath and prepared my excuses. I knocked gently and peered inside, hoping to blend in seamlessly with the ongoing lecture. The professor, a stern figure at the front of the room, looked up from his notes and raised an eyebrow at my tardiness.
Summoning a semblance of confidence, I approached him and muttered my explanation, blending a lie or two into my words. With a sigh, the professor allowed me to enter, but not without a gentle warning about the importance of punctuality.
Just as I was about to surrender to the idea of skipping class, my phone buzzed with an incoming call. It was my friend, Sam, who was scheduled to have the same class as me that morning. Curiosity piqued, I answered the call, and Sam's voice echoed through the receiver.
"Hey, are you coming to class today?" Sam asked, concern threaded in his words. "Remember, this lecture is really important. It's going to cover the topics that will be on the upcoming exam."
His reminder jolted me out of my lethargy. I appreciated his concern and the fact that he reached out to check on me. It made me realize that this class held significance not just for me, but for my academic progress.
With a newfound determination, I mustered the energy to get out of bed. However, the tiredness clung to me like a weight, making even the simplest tasks feel arduous. I sluggishly moved through the morning routine, dragging myself to get dressed and pack my bag for school.
In spite of my best efforts, time slipped away faster than I anticipated, and I soon found myself running late for the class. Panic and desperation intertwined, pushing me to concoct a plan to be admitted into the classroom without too many questions asked.
Arriving at the classroom door, I took a deep breath and prepared my excuses. I knocked gently and peered inside, hoping to blend in seamlessly with the ongoing lecture. The professor, a stern figure at the front of the room, looked up from his notes and raised an eyebrow at my tardiness.
Summoning a semblance of confidence, I approached him and muttered my explanation, blending a lie or two into my words. With a sigh, the professor allowed me to enter, but not without a gentle warning about the importance of punctuality.
