Exam Fever
Get nervous. Get very nervous. You think you're just reading a blog at the moment, but no, you better prepare yourself, because you're about to enter... my personal life! I know, I know, lightning is now raining down around your house, and one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse is knocking at your window asking if he can come in for a cup of tea and slice of death. Sorry.
So anyway, yes here's the small bit of personal information: I had my first university exam yesterday. Yes, on a Saturday. Believe me it could have been worse, at least it was in the morning. Still, it wasn't as bad as I thought it could be. However, there was one small thing that scared the living crap out of me. The front cover. Now during A-levels and GCSE's we were babysat through our exams by our teachers, lovely as they were. They'd tell you what to write on the front cover, when to write it, what your candidate number was if you forgot, hell they'd tell you your own name if your memory was a little slow on the day. This is not so at university though, where exams are just that little bit more like a military death camp. They bring you in, sit you down (feeling a bit like sheep), get out your library card so that they know you're you (Although, come on, WHO is going to sit an exam if they don't have to? 'Hello! Yes! Me! I like two and a half to three hours of soul purging torture a day! Thank you!') Then you take a quick glance at the overly complicated front cover of the booklet in front of you.
"It'll be ok," you think to yourself, "they'll guide me through it."
BAM! "You may begin"
WHAT? But I haven't even put my name on the paper!
And thus the stress of exams is added to. I mean, what's the point of doing the exam if they don't even know who you are?
I'd like to issue an apology at this point. If anyone heard dispairing sobbing from behind them during their exam yesterday, that was me. And I hadn't even opened the booklet at that point. It's my own fault. When it comes to forms I regress to the age of two. If there's some kind of ref., i.d. or any other kind of number, I can guarentee you I don't know what it is. And if I do, I'll get it wrong. And God help me when I come to my D.o.B. number...
Despite this, I finished the exam, with a little time to spare (about half a minute, so no point in checking. Even though I know you should.) So I checked the 'regulations' at the front of the booklet. "All rough work must be done in pencil and crossed out carefully." Hear that? Yes, my dear friends, that is the sound of exam bureaucracy kicking me when I'm down. Thud. Thud. Bastards.
Nevermind. I'm sure I won't get penalised for using a pen, will I? Then again, these are the people who will penalise you if you print your work on a slightly darker shade of white paper if it isn't referenced properly...
Bobbikk
So anyway, yes here's the small bit of personal information: I had my first university exam yesterday. Yes, on a Saturday. Believe me it could have been worse, at least it was in the morning. Still, it wasn't as bad as I thought it could be. However, there was one small thing that scared the living crap out of me. The front cover. Now during A-levels and GCSE's we were babysat through our exams by our teachers, lovely as they were. They'd tell you what to write on the front cover, when to write it, what your candidate number was if you forgot, hell they'd tell you your own name if your memory was a little slow on the day. This is not so at university though, where exams are just that little bit more like a military death camp. They bring you in, sit you down (feeling a bit like sheep), get out your library card so that they know you're you (Although, come on, WHO is going to sit an exam if they don't have to? 'Hello! Yes! Me! I like two and a half to three hours of soul purging torture a day! Thank you!') Then you take a quick glance at the overly complicated front cover of the booklet in front of you.
"It'll be ok," you think to yourself, "they'll guide me through it."
BAM! "You may begin"
WHAT? But I haven't even put my name on the paper!
And thus the stress of exams is added to. I mean, what's the point of doing the exam if they don't even know who you are?
I'd like to issue an apology at this point. If anyone heard dispairing sobbing from behind them during their exam yesterday, that was me. And I hadn't even opened the booklet at that point. It's my own fault. When it comes to forms I regress to the age of two. If there's some kind of ref., i.d. or any other kind of number, I can guarentee you I don't know what it is. And if I do, I'll get it wrong. And God help me when I come to my D.o.B. number...
Despite this, I finished the exam, with a little time to spare (about half a minute, so no point in checking. Even though I know you should.) So I checked the 'regulations' at the front of the booklet. "All rough work must be done in pencil and crossed out carefully." Hear that? Yes, my dear friends, that is the sound of exam bureaucracy kicking me when I'm down. Thud. Thud. Bastards.
Nevermind. I'm sure I won't get penalised for using a pen, will I? Then again, these are the people who will penalise you if you print your work on a slightly darker shade of white paper if it isn't referenced properly...
Bobbikk
posted by Bobbikk @ Sunday, June 11, 2006
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