Trying to Understand Finals

Here’s what I don’t get about the dreaded finals week.  Let’s take the spring semester, for example:
You take a bunch of college students who probably have checked out mentally when the trees grew leaves and the first heat wave occurred and then one professor says “Hey, I want you to gather your 900 pages of notes for my class, and devote all your time to studying for my exam.”  The next professor says “Hey! I’m pretty sure that I’m the only class you’re taking.  Please devote all your time to studying for my exam.” And so on, and so forth. (Luckily, most of my finals are just writing papers, and I would take that over an exam any day. Hoorah for English majors!)
Did I mention we checked out mentally in March? Yeah, we all did.  But now we’re forced to realize that we were only pretending to know what Existentialism meant for the entirety of our class, and now we have to know what it actually means.
We’re all tired.  We’re all hungry.  And we’re all hyped up on Starbucks caffeine.  So we’re all out of money, too.
On top of that, we have to move everything out. 
I want a nap.  And a juice.  And a clean room. 
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