Personal Narrative: Four AP Classes

“Four AP classes is a lot,” my parents warned, reading the list of courses I would take in the fall. “Are you sure you can manage that?" I felt fearless. “Of course,” I assured them. “I can handle it!” Four AP classes shouldn’t be that difficult. After all, I aced my AP class the previous year. There’s nothing I can’t work through. It wasn’t until school started when I realized I underestimated the workload of my courses. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Before I knew it, it was already midnight. Time flew by so quickly. I dropped my pencil and stared at the endless stack of papers at my desk. The pile seemed to be growing instead of shrinking. Paper shreds littered the floor from all the cutting. The desk covered with glue and tape. I deceived myself into believing I could finish all these tasks. I buried my face in my hands, tears slowly trickled down. “It was a mistake to take four AP classes,” I mumbled in defeat. “Maybe I can’t handle it after all.” A few weeks earlier, I was confident that I had everything under control. The second six weeks of school had just begun and so far I was excelling in all my classes. Then my

As they burst through the door, sheets of paper fluttered all over my room. My room was a landfill. Markers, pencils, and crumpled wads of failed ideas made the floor invisible. Between sobs, I explained my situation. “You shouldn’t have procrastinated,” my mother said, patting my back. “But you can’t stop now. You’re so close to finishing your project. We’ll help you cut things out if you want.” I took a deep breath and accepted their offer. The three of us sat for hours, cutting and gluing pieces of my projects. Slowly, the chaotic mountain of incomplete assignments transformed into small organized bundles of finished products. As I stuck the final picture to my book, I looked at the clock once more. It was three in the morning now. Out the window, the clouds in the dark sky covered the almost transparent