The Nexus

It was a fine Tuesday afternoon, but Mike Mitchell simply could not decide whether to have an optometrist consultation or an orthodontist appointment. Last week, he had two meetings with his physical therapist and the week before that, he had a family emergency on top of a particularly nasty car accident.

Mitchell considers himself a very lucky (albeit busy) guy because many of his myriad appointments fall on important test days, while the rest of them conveniently pop up on the days when Mitchell just does not feel like going to school. It’s funny how things work out in such a fashion, because whenever Mitchell is at the dentist, he’ll sit in the chair and think about how lucky he is to have missed that biology test and now have an extra day to study. Other times, like during that physical therapy session he had a few weeks ago, Mitchell was doing stretches when he had an epiphany: he was missing an architecture quiz in AP Art History.

Unfortunately, Mitchell’s classmates always seem to be aggravated by his perpetual absence on test days.

Of course, their frustration is completely misdirected because one must understand that Mitchell is a fragile boy and his many appointments are absolute necessities.

Yet, Mitchell’s friends refuse to listen to reason. Is their anger necessary? Absolutely not. Because after his doctor visits, Mitchell returns home immediately and pulls out his textbooks. He is ready to learn.

And then, in the midst of reading about the Napoleonic Era, Modern Warfare 2 calls out for his touch. This is when he sees that his iTunes library requires some time-intensive updating. Dinnertime rolls around. Mitchell, forever the filial child, offers to do the dishes. Did I mention that the sink is in front of the television? But that doesn’t matter; it’s an insignificant fact.

Mitchell’s AP Government teacher points to the hallway, instructing Mitchell where he should take his test. Mitchell stands motionless. His world muted like a picture film from the bowels of history, and in that instant, Mitchell’s last 12 hours flashed before his eyes.

Where did his study time go? Was this some cruel trick of fate? He could have sworn that from yesterday’s perspective, he had many glorious sun-filled days of study time. All vanished with a few clicks of a mouse and an arduous tour of dish duty.

But, forever the optimist, Mitchell confronts the test with zeal and confidence. An hour later, and the Scantron results are back. At the top of the form is a big 61 percent in all its bright red glory. Once again, Mitchell is a lucky man.

Without that extra study time and the saving grace that is his 11 a.m. chiropractor session, he would have only been able to scrape by with a 59, which as we all know, is a failing grade. Success.

One would ask why Mitchell is such a lucky man. Was it the Lucky Charms for breakfast? Or was it that three-leaf clover that Mitchell found the day before? Mitchell would tell you that he has a slight memory problem, but not to worry, because he will be seeing a psychiatrist about it; which by the way is why he won’t be in Algebra class tomorrow.

In the meantime, he would sincerely appreciate it if you would give him some pointers on what to study for after you take tomorrow’s quiz.