Countdown to Midterms (Part II)

It was late Wednesday morning. The rain started falling outside, and all of us were shivering.

Our photography professor began sneezing frequently while lecturing in front of the class. Her nose started getting red and her voice grew increasingly slurry as the nasal passages became clogged with mucus.

It was evident the professor was in no condition to teach in front of us. So I willingly approached her and earnestly advised my professor to stop and rest.

Regrettably, she refused to accept my suggestion. The ever-defiant professor soldiered on, unwilling to absorb whatever consequences she would encounter later on.

Shortly after, however, the professor stopped speaking and sat down. All of us stood up in shock as our professor frantically clutched her chest and gradually lost consciousness.

"Help!!!" Michelle screamed as her classmates walked towards the desk. "We must transport our professor to the clinic. Hurry!!!"

As some of my male classmates carefully carried the professor to the clinic, I stood outside the classroom perplexed and confused. Never before have I witnessed such an unfortunate and unexpected incident during class.

With photography class abruptly cancelled for the day, Michelle, Erin and myself walked to the faculty room for a brief talk with one of the professors inside.

"How can I assist you?" the professor politely asked as he approached us.

"Sir, our photography professor suddenly fell unconscious in the middle of the class," Michelle explained. "She is rushed to the hospital right now and our class was promptly cancelled because of it."

"This is so unexpected," the professor voiced his alarming concern on the matter. "I saw her walk to the office earlier and she was in good spirits."

"Even we couldn't believe it," Erin grimly remarked on the incident. "Our professor looked vigorous upon her arrival, but then she started sneezing wildly to the point her breathing was severely compromised and that inevitably led to her fainting in class."

"So, what can you do to us at this point?" I promptly inquired the professor.

"I can schedule a makeup class this Friday and bring in a substitute," the professor naturally suggested. "I'll convince your original professor to recuperate and allow her replacement to fill in for now. What can you say?"

"We can handle it," Michelle confidently nodded at the professor. "But what time is the class?"

"I'll give you my personal cellphone number for safekeeping," he smilingly replied. "You will receive an important text message later or tomorrow, so keep your lines open. In addition, resend this message to all your classmates for them to know."

"Okay then," Erin gratefully accepted the professor's order. "We'll go advise the entire class about this."

Talk about another bump on my road to midterms. As we left the faculty room, my heart and mind felt an overwhelming sense of emptiness and dissatisfaction after what happened in both philosophy and photography class.

A few rain-drenched hours later, Michelle and I were at film production class with our hands clasped on the desk. Ella promptly joined us and we sat down in eerie silence, ruefully contemplating on what could happen next.

Fortunately, film production class commenced rather smoothly. By the time the professor dismissed the class, Michelle, Ella and I were relieved to see this unusual and perplexing day come to a close.

The film production professor did leave something for the midterms, however. A note was scribbled on the blackboard, and it read:

"Watch the film 'The Breakfast Club' and prepare a 200-word essay about it. The deadline will be next week. Meantime, we will not have class next Monday so use that time to watch and write the essay."

All three of us captured a picture of the written note on our mobile phones. While the rest of the class dispersed outside, we stayed inside for a moment to discuss.

"We can watch together at my place this weekend," Ella humbly suggested. "What can you say?"

"No problem for us," Michelle and I promptly replied in unison. "Just send us a message for more details, okay?"

"Definitely," Ella nodded approvingly as we stood up and walked out of the classroom.

Just then, however, Michelle received a text message from Taylor. It read:

"Girls, the professor is in stable condition. She just experienced shortness of breath and required lots of oxygen. Don't worry, our professor should be fine."

After tucking her cellphone inside the bag, Michelle promptly shared the good news to us. Ella and I quietly flashed a smile upon hearing her proclamation.

The next morning, Michelle and I were inside the classroom for media ethics. Outside, the sky was still cloudy, but the precipitation was light.

The class professor stood still, wondering what task will he give us next. Minutes later, he began speaking in front of us.

"Class, next week is midterms and your assignment is to write a 300-word essay on the Mamasapano massacre and its severe consequences on broadcast media," he announced. "The deadline will be Thursday next week. You have the whole weekend to work on it."

Make it two assignments to work on for midterms week. As I was sitting down inside the classroom, feelings of both excitement and anxiety filled my heart.

On one hand, I could not wait to tackle all of the homework. On the other hand, however, they are difficult to write about and take some time to finish.

Regardless, all the assignments must be pumping my adrenaline to a whole new level. I cannot help but shiver at the thought of writing both assignments throughout the weekend.

After media ethics class had drawn to a close, Michelle and I greeted Ella outside. Seconds later, Carson stopped by to welcome us.

"Long time no see girls," he said candidly.

The mood soon turned serious once the topic of Ella's financial needs was raised.

"So have you hooked up with Kyla?" Michelle eagerly questioned. "Ella absolutely needs some valuable assistance since both of her parents perished in a car accident."

"Unfortunately Michelle, I haven't spoken to Kyla," Carson regretfully admitted.

"Well, Kyla was with us yesterday, and she suggested you and your parents might help Ella," I informed him.

Moments later, Kyla unexpectedly showed up and promptly joined in the conversation.

"Carson," Kyla nonchalantly greeted him. "I didn't expect you to come in here."

"Anyway, since Carson is present perhaps we can talk about Ella's need for financial support?" Michelle earnestly urged them both.

"Indeed we'll do," Carson smilingly assured her.

And so Carson cordially invited the four of us to dinner later that weekend at his house. He would then speak privately to Ella and Kyla regarding the former's needs.

After the short talk, Michelle and I left the campus for some lunch. Then it was off to television production class.