The exam is sitting there, facedown, taunting me. I am nervous. This exam means the world to me right now, and FOREVER. Obviously my grade on this will determine my happiness when I am in an old folks home, drooling uncontrollably, playing bridge constantly and bragging about what I got on this very test because it is central to my existence as a human being!
I am trying to see through the exam so I can get a glimpse of a question. Wait … better not. If I see a question I can’t answer, all my confidence is drained and where does that leave me? Huh? Answer me! You know where that leaves me? It leaves me with, uh, no confidence. And I can’t just get it back by saying, ‘Here, Mr. Confidence, come on back. I just set out the water bowl for ya.’ Speaking of water, man do I have to go to the bathroom.
Turn the exam over. Heart is thumping, thumping, thumping. C’mon, Seth, don’t freeze like you did at the urinal 15 minutes ago. Was he peeking? I think he was peeking. Focus. I must be one with myself. What does that even mean? Breathe.
Questions one through 40 multiple choice. Gah! I hate multiple choice. ‘Choose the best answer,’ it says. That means three good choices and one granddaddy of them all. Daddy? I wonder if I will be a good daddy some day. I wonder if I am dad already.
These multiple-choice questions aren’t so bad. I’m doing well. Is everyone else doing this well? Am I the super genius in here today? I deserve to get an A; I studied hard and long. Some times my professor’s fly is down, and nobody tells him. What am I supposed to do, say, ‘Hey professor, need a little air down there?’
God, I have no clue what the answer to this one is. That’s okay, stay calm. I’ll just skip it. I don’t want to ruin my momentum. Uh oh, this next one is rough, too. I’ll put a little check next to the question to remind me to go back to it when I finish this puppy … check, next … check, next … check, next … it has all gone to hell!
Such a good start, where did the easy questions go? Where are you easy questions? Come out and show yourselves to me. Cowards.
I can’t believe #17. That question is ridiculous. My study group concluded that the professor would be out of his mind to ask a question on the material in #17. He barely covered it in lecture … I bet it was in the textbook. I can hear him now, ‘Yes, I didn’t cover it in class, but if you had all done your reading like you were supposed to, you would have had no problem with #17.’ I guarantee the kid next to me knows #17. I bet he does his reading because he brings his laptop to class. He is going the extra mile, and here I am with a #2 Dixon Ticonderoga pencil and a wide-ruled notebook. Not even college ruled!
I am scum. Here I am, not using my laptop and still writing in print with a pencil. I forgot how to make a cursive ‘G’ five years ago, but I still think the cursive ‘Q’ is cool because it looks like a ‘2.’ How old am I? I have not matured. I am worthless. All I wanted was a good grade! I don’t care.
Nope, not worth it. There are more important things in life. Yup, like birds chirping, flying, flipping. My health is more important than doing well on this exam. Eat that. I have my health. I have my priorities straight now. I am a man with a clear head and clear nasal passages. Some people in this room who have colds are doing well on this exam, but they are jealous because I walked in here with a clean bill of health. But what does it really mean to ‘have health?’ Isn’t health kind of an abstract thing? I can’t go to my mom on Mother’s Day and say, ‘Forgot your gift and card, but I brought you some health.’
I am going to start laughing under my breath now because of how ludicrous this exam is. That will show this professor. Ha! You hear that, professor? You hear me, old man? I am laughing at your ridiculous test. You are hurt because I am laughing at you. You can act like you don’t hear me, but I know you do. You know what, I am going to go through the ones with a check, all 13 of them, and fill in the answers with a smirk on my face. I’m really smirking now. I am smirking at you, doctor/professor. I am going to get my doctoral degree in physical education, and you better call me doctor when you are in my ‘Archery for the Older Generations 201’ class.
Finished. That’s all she wrote. I am walking up there to hand this in with confidence, just like when a boxer raises his hand after round 15 even though his face has been bludgeoned beyond recognition.
‘Good test, professor. You really had me thinking on this one.’
‘I prefer ‘doctor”
‘Oh yeah? Your fly is down.’
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