sometimes you need a lil bit of luck

I sat in my den yesterday morning, sipping a hot cup of coffee and reading The Magpie Murders.

This Anthony Horowitz thrilling isn’t your average mystery novel. It’s an Agatha Christie-styled murder mystery about an Agatha Christie-styled murder mystery.

It sounds confusing, I know.

But as I sat there immersed in detective Atticus Pünd’s adventure, I stumbled upon a powerful line.

And that line triggered a memory from my experience taking Calculus 3 at Binghamton University.

Before I reveal this emotional phrase, let’s visit sophomore year Mike who had just started taking college seriously…

I enrolled in Calc 3 and promised myself I’d work my butt off and outperform everyone.

I kept my hopes up high, but once I stepped into that classroom for the first time, a wave of humbleness crashed down on me.

The average college professor uses the first class to go over the syllabus and explain future expectations. Hardcore professors skip that and dive right into the material, telling you to open up your textbooks to page one.

But my professor did neither.

He walked in a few minutes late and told us we were taking a test. Yes, a test.

On the first day of class.

From that moment, I knew trouble would come my way.

My professor was the most intelligent person I’ve met. I’ve seen him solve complex double integrals mentally within seconds.

Yet, while he had an abundance of brains, he had zero social skills.

He spoke broken English, mumbled every word, and didn’t know how to empathize with students.

I never learned from him effectively, so I skipped class, taught myself the material, and showed up for test days.

I never excelled in that course. I hovered around a C+ grade and prioritized passing above all else. The professor ruined the experience for me, so I didn't care about the C+. I wanted nothing more than freeing myself from him.

When the final exam came, I looked forward to saying farewell to the professor.

The final started at ten in the morning, and I remember sitting in the lecture hall with my left leg shaking and my pencil drumming on the desk.

Ten o’clock arrived, yet we couldn’t begin the exam.

Why?

Because my professor forgot the exam booklets and had to walk across campus in the pouring rain to retrieve them.

My class was just one of five or six Calc 3 sections, and every other professor came prepared. But since mine didn’t bring his booklets, no one could start until he returned.

He made us lose 20 minutes of test time.

So, the Math department head said we’d receive 20 bonus points to compensate for the lost time.

Those bonus points raised my exam grade from a 77 to a 97. And my final grade in the class changed from a C+ to a B+...

All because of my professor’s blunder.

So, here's the line from The Magpie Murders:

“Life had its own agenda.”

Detective Atticus Pünd planned to spend the next year writing a book, but an illness gave him only three months to live. Despite his plans, life had its own agenda, bringing along negative consequences.

When you hear most people say this phrase, they associate it with an out-of-control event that disrupts their life -- like what happened to Pünd.

But for some reason, that line triggered a memory where the opposite happened.

And I can't help but smile at how the professor I despised sprinkled a bit of luck on my life and helped me improve my grade from a C+ to a B+.

The experience reminds me that while there are moments where life seemingly works against you, there are other moments where life works out in your favor.