I’ve put it off as long as possible. When the last week of August rolls around, I begin the final semester of my master’s program. Normally, that would be cause for (slight) celebrations. But on September 13, I get to take a six hour exam. The exam covers material that is different each time it is given (twice a year, September and January), and you get four months to prep. There is no class associated with said test, and, the professor’s grading said test (they also change each test) do not, in fact, lecture to the student at all. Basically, you get a list of stuff to read then, on that fateful morn, you show up and have to write three essays, the prompts to which, you have never seen and have no idea what they might cover.
Behold my reading list: