Taking exams
It has happened to everyone that you are in your head with fear because you have to take an exam. Oral or written, both are sometimes real trials.
I was usually not afraid to take an oral exam. If you could only talk enough about the subject or about things related to it, you quickly got a positive grade. Most professors were fooled by that and although it was usually with their heels over the ditch, for me it was enough enough.
Written exam, however, was a nightmare for me. Putting your skills on paper was so definitive and non-deformable, that the thought alone made me break out a sweat. Cocks on paper equated to zeros and you didn't get any points for the fun rhyme.
So it was time again. The professor of History looked at his watch and then around at his disciples.
“Spikes means zero. Helping each other or talking to each other is a zero. A warned person knows what to stick to. Success!”
To me, it sounded more like “knife” from his mouth than success and then one that my brain was cutting. I saw that the exam questions were being distributed to my colleagues and as he got closer, I got strangely hot and started to tighten the collar of my shirt to such an extent that it was difficult for me to breathe.
Then the magazine was in front of me with the conscious questions and a separate sheet for the answers to be noted. It was as white and virginal as my thoughts on the subject I was supposed to write about. History had always been torture for me. Dates and names of monarchs and queens just didn't stick in my head.
They went through the one-way tunnel from one ear to the other and waved goodbye. No objection from me at those times, but now I thought it might have been better to stuff an earplug in that other ear. In such a way, those history facts may have stuck in my mind a little longer.
After the heat came the panic, the agony that my writer's block* had to strike right now. I thought of all the tips I had ever read in Yoors' blogs to get rid of this, but nothing helped. My head was as virgin white as the leaf in front of me.
It's hard to dick someone off their socks on paper and the clock ticked on mercilessly. We had been given two hours to show our historical knowledge, but the only thing that spread through my body like wildfire was my panic. I saw the clock as an enemy that continued to advance and took ground. I didn't see an escape route and almost wanted to take my white paper and use it as a white flag for my surrender, when the professor spoke.
“Five more minutes. Five minutes to make your lives better,” it started rather sarcastically.
“Time to put your final thoughts on paper,” he continued.
I knew it was two to twelve, literally and figuratively because the trial had started at ten o'clock. How could this happen? I had rehearsed everything so well, despite my natural aversion to history. Tears came up and pushed their way unyielding through my tear ducts.
But it didn't help mothers, so inevitably the clock struck twelve o'clock. I heard a Big Ben-like sound echoing through the classroom in amazement. The professor collected the exam papers and finally came to me and looked at the blank sheet I submitted.
My head turned 50 shades of red and I almost literally felt the ground below me sinking. He looked at the main thing where I could have filled in the subject and the name of the teacher.
“But Rudi, this is not the exam of History, but of Mathematics. How stupid can you be if you're just studying the wrong subject right now.
”
I was shocked woke up!
The clock on my digital agenda said that I just had time to wash, have breakfast and rush to the Mathematics exam. I sighed reassured, because I had been studying that subject thoroughly to a hole in the night.
© Rudi JP. Lejaeghere
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The history teacher found this funny the week after. I'm being put in the classroom when I had to read it aloud. T was well liked, but it didn't make sense. Hi hi.