“Back in August, my stepdad Paul had tried to help me organize my schoolwork when he saw that it was way too much for me to keep straight on my own. He suggested I think of homework as triage. “Look at your assignments like they’re wounded patients,” he’d said, “and handle them in order of severity. ‘Okay, you need immediate attention, or you’ll die. You can wait a bit. You aren’t that bad—go home, take some aspirin, and call me tomorrow.’” I gave my homework a lot of aspirin.”