Have you ever noticed how every time a big exam comes up, the teachers tend to stress more than you? 

I used to see that back in school. when we were passing our Baccalaureate, you could feel the History teacher doing little jumps in the air when she walked. It just so happened that last year, my desk was right next to the door with the big window in its middle. I kept staring outside waiting for something or someone to come by, interrupt the exams and take me home. 

Then the History teacher popped her head in on the action.

She tried to mime words I didn’t understand but the floodlight of worry on her face was so evident it didn’t take me much time to realize she was asking me about the subject we got that day. I mimed her the answer and she still didn’t understand a word of it.

I laughed a little as I remembered that today, in front of my exam paper, then try to focus.

Each step she takes is louder than the other. Click, clack, click, clack

Don’t you ever feel like punching that lady in the long yellow skirt? You know the one who looks like a teacher but no one’s ever seen her or knows her name. She’s just there, watching as you scribble down notes on your exam paper, desperately trying to remember that example in the lesson. Okay Miss Loud Yellow Skirt just took my ruler without asking, and gave it to the neighbor who needed it. YO. I need it too.

I do that awkward wave in the giant classroom and she doesn’t notice or hear. Obviously because of her loud CLICK CLACKS. 

Okay back to my paper. I didn’t even eat today! I can’t focus. Shush, I need to focus. 

Minutes are passing by and I could feel the seconds racing. Did time just decide to play games? The words on the page are getting darker. I need light but can’t move an inch cause little miss Yellow Skirt decided eyeballing me was the way to go. 

The silence in that room is so loud. people biting into their pencils, twirling locks of long unbrushed and tired hair around their fingers as if to find something. You can see the worry in people’s eyes no matter how far they are from you in that room. Their coffee breath can be smelled yards away and the colors of depression and anxiousness reveal themselves on their faces. Who knows how many people have sat on that same chair of yours and sent their stress to it. See that crack on the right corner of the table? John did that. Yep. Maybe if you get closer to it you might still hear him thinking about that last question.

What’s interesting is the fact that not everyone reacts the same.

You’ve got the almost-breaks-the-table kind like our dear friend John, and others who laugh at the story days later. Some people admit to have not studied, and not worried about it, even though the way they’re biting their lip might tell you otherwise. Some people don’t like to talk about it, other will keep yapping until the next exam. As I scan the enormous room i find many faces I recognized from my own, like the I’m-doing-so-good-I-might-frame-my-paper, and the shit-I-didn’t-know-we-had-that-chapter. I thought by this point taking exams would get easier. It’s not. There’s always that tingly feeling in your stomach mixed in with all the water you’ve been drinking. So as the last minute passes by, the man assigned to watch us literally YANKS the paper from my hands.

“Time’s up” 







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