By Aanchal Dutt Chaulagain

The day began at 4:05 a.m. on BLE Examination Day. This standardized test determines whether a student passes 8th grade. It marks the completion of basic education in Nepal and is a prerequisite for further studies.

Their exam day. And somehow, mine, too. I moved through the morning the way students do: half awake, half anxious… washing my face, checking my bag, and then once more. Pencils. Pens. Admit cards. Today mattered.

By the time the clock showed 5:00 a.m., the sky was still quiet. The bus driver had told us to reach school by 5:45, but I arrived 15 minutes early. A familiar face appeared from afar, smiling. I asked if he was nervous.

“No,” the student said easily. When he asked me the same, I laughed and replied, “Oh no, not at all,” while my feet kept tapping the ground, betraying me.

We boarded the bus and began our journey to the testing center, stopping along the way to pick up more familiar faces. Inside the bus, every emotion had a seat. Some students were reading, eyes fixed on their notes. Some sat with their eyes closed. Others simply looked out the window. I watched them all, my heart full, wondering how time had slipped past us so quickly. Whenever our eyes met, we exchanged small smiles. Somewhere inside, all of us whispered, “We got this.”

We reached the center right on time. I stepped off the bus first, nervous and proud all at once. I went from student to student, offering fist bumps and best of luck, hoping my confidence could lend them a little strength. I opened my bag again—extra pencils, extra pens—placing them into waiting hands, handing out admit cards like promises.

Then they went inside, one by one, disappearing into their classrooms.

I stayed outside.

Sitting there, I felt a hundred emotions all at once. Being their homeroom teacher for a year has been the most beautiful part of this journey. It felt like I had spent a whole year growing with these students. I learned again how easy it is to love and trust that everything will be okay.