failure

A four question, three page calculus quiz is placed in front of me. Studying the night before had been scarce, but had been presumably unnecessary. The stress was minimal, having mastered such quizzes the semester before. My mad skills would carry me through with ease. With the homework assignment completed and understood, a quick glance over the notes was seemingly sufficient.
Now, as I stare at the middle of page two, my leg shaking uncontrollably, I rethink my decision. That simple little equation is in the back of the noggin somewhere, it's just hiding. The elusive little bastard. But alas! I believe I have found it, and the second needed equation can be easily derived from the first. I accept my answer as correct as I move on to the next problem.
Little do I know that fifteen minutes later I will be walking down the hallway, having handed in the quiz, searching through my notebook to find the equations only to discover that I have made a terrible mistake. Fifteen minutes and thirty seconds later I will be cursing my brain for its uselessness and the grade I will inevitably receive. The girl that gets obsessively good grades in calculus (along with every other subject) has just failed herself.
Let the self-imposed mental anguish begin.