|Couldn't put in a photo of J, so here is an irrelevant one instead.|
Carenza is not the only person rendered dozy by exams – my friend J kindly shared her moment of exam shame, told here in her own words:
To be published anonymously please. I don’t want anyone to know I really was that stupid – OK.
The teacher who groomed us (I choose my words carefully) for O level maths was clearly ahead of his time. He whizzed us through the syllabus at break neck speed so that we had the remaining six months of the year before the exam to practise past papers.
We did these every maths lesson, every day, every week. The result? A class of students who could calculate the volume of a cone and perform calculus in all manner of positions, but were beyond wondering or caring why any of these clever tricks might be useful in later life – or even in later exams.
Back in those days exams were still scheduled for the hottest time of year and as we filed into the exam hall, I took a window seat. All was going swimmingly as I worked my way through the familiar questions. The sun warmed my bones it soothed away any remaining exam tension and I relaxed. I rested my head on my arm – just for a moment.
I awoke with a start as the invigilator told us to close our exam booklets: it was the end of the exam.
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