← Stories

Letters from Tara · May: Before, Not After

The draft she did not send

Danya,

Joss is better. He finished his folder a day early and played us the last piece in the kitchen on Hollie's keyboard. It's about his grandad's garden. Hollie cried. I nearly did.

I am not better. I have flu. Real flu, not a cold. It started on Saturday with a sore throat and now it's Monday and I'm writing this in bed with a temperature of thirty-eight and a half and a box of tissues, and everything aches, even my hair.

And my first proper exam is tomorrow. Nine o'clock. It's worth sixty per cent of the module, because the coursework was the other forty, and I did well in that, so this is the one that really counts.

I'm going to sit it anyway. I've revised. I know the material. If I take enough paracetamol I'll be fine for two hours. And if it goes badly, I'll explain afterwards. I'll tell them I was ill. They'll understand.

I don't want to email them now. It feels like making an excuse before I've even tried. Everyone has exams. Everyone's tired. If I say I'm ill, they'll think I just haven't revised. It's better to try and

The draft stopped there, as all the drafts did.

Tara read it at about two in the afternoon, propped up on three pillows, with a mug of hot water and lemon going cold on the windowsill. Her head felt as if it were full of warm sand.

Even through the sand, she noticed something. The draft had a plan in it, and the plan was a familiar shape. I'll explain afterwards. It was another waiting plan. It had a new reason this time: it feels like making an excuse. But it was the same plan as the name, and the house, and Joss. Wait, and then say it when it has become more expensive.

She looked at the sticky note inside the front cover. There were six lines now. The sixth was from April.

The cheapest time to say the thing is before there is a plan for it to be against.

Ask on the second day, not the last.

First chance, not last.

A no on the day costs a minute.

The first minute is the cheapest.

You don't have to be sure to ask.

She thought about what afterwards would actually look like. Sitting in the exam hall, shivering, reading the same question five times. Coming out not knowing what she had written. Then, a week later, a mark. And then explaining, to someone who had already marked it, that she had been ill, a week ago, with nothing to show for it but a mark that said she hadn't been.

Before, it would be one email.

She put the draft in the back of the notebook. There were nine now.

Monday afternoon

She wrote the email lying down, to the student office, and copied in Dr Mensah, because Dr Mensah was her tutor and had told them all in October to tell me early, not late, about anything.

It was short. She had learned that from the name, and from Joss.

Dear Student Office, it said. I have flu, with a temperature of 38.5 since Saturday, and I don't think I am well enough to sit tomorrow's 9am exam. I'm telling you now rather than afterwards. What should I do? Thank you, Tara.

She read it twice. It looked very plain. It looked like exactly what it was. It was not a clever email. It did not need to be.

She sent it.

What Dr Mensah said

Dr Mensah replied in forty minutes.

Tara, thank you for telling us now. This is exactly what the illness form is for. It is very simple to arrange before an exam, and much harder to sort out afterwards, when you have already sat it and we have to work out whether your mark reflects you or the flu. Please see the campus doctor today if you can, fill in the form (link below), and don't come in tomorrow. Get well. — Dr M.

The campus doctor, a cheerful woman who had clearly seen eleven students with flu that day already, took her temperature, agreed that it was thirty-eight and a half, and wrote a note. Tara filled in the form at the doctor's desk, on her phone, in about four minutes.

By Wednesday the student office had written again. She was moved to the June sitting, which was for people who had been ill or had a clash. Nothing would be taken off her mark. She would sit exactly the same kind of exam, in four weeks, when she could think.

Owen

On Thursday, when she could stand up again, she went down to the kitchen and found Owen from the floor below making toast. Owen was on her course and had sat a different exam on Tuesday.

"How did it go?" said Tara.

"Badly," said Owen. "I had a fever. Thirty-nine. I took a lot of paracetamol and went in anyway. I couldn't think. I wrote about half of what I know." He buttered the toast very slowly. "I emailed them afterwards to say I'd been ill. They said I have to apply to resit, and send evidence, and a panel decides. The panel meets in June. I don't know yet if I'll be allowed."

"I'm sorry," said Tara.

"I didn't want to look like I was making excuses," said Owen. "So I didn't say anything before. And now it looks like an excuse anyway, because I said it after."

Tara made him a cup of tea. She did not say anything about her draft. But she thought about it.

The letter she sent

Danya,

Joss finished his folder. The last piece is about his grandad's garden. Hollie cried.

This month I asked for help before, not after.

I got flu the day before my biggest exam, sixty per cent of the module. I wrote you a whole letter about how I'd sit it anyway and explain afterwards if it went badly, because asking before felt like making excuses.

Then I thought about what afterwards would look like. A mark that said I hadn't been ill, and me explaining, a week late, with nothing to show.

So I emailed them that afternoon. Four sentences. My tutor answered in forty minutes and said this is exactly what the form is for, and that it's much easier before than after. I'm sitting it in June instead, with nothing taken off.

A boy on my course had a fever too and went in and asked afterwards. He's still waiting to hear if he can resit.

Before, it's information. After, it's an excuse, even when it's true.

Tara

P.S. Nine drafts now. In this one I said "I'll explain afterwards" as if afterwards were a kind of honesty. It's just later.

The question for your own table

Is there something coming up where you are hoping not to have to ask for help: an appointment, a deadline, a payment, a day off? If it went wrong, would it be easier to say so the day before, or the day after?

Something to do

Next time you can see a problem coming, say so before it arrives, in plain words, to the person who can do something about it. Notice how much shorter the conversation is.

Shared under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0. More stories