[Originally published on 6th May 2013]

E-day (Day 12)

Well, that’s it, no more procrastination. Exam day has finally arrived. Walking around uni at exam time is like being present at the post-apocalypse after-party. There are zombies, sorry I mean students, everywhere looking lost and dazed. It’s definitely an odd fashion show, with people walking around in their PJs, odd shoes, back-to-front trousers and a wide variety of hairstyles; most predominantly the ‘I just woke up 5 minutes ago’ look.

I finally made it to the exam hall to find that I was not the first one there. Almost everyone looks tired and dishevelled, feigning a polite smile at each other. There are little groups huddled together, undermining each other’s confidence by talking about what they studied. Others are sitting in the corners rocking back and forth, so wired with caffeine they look as taught as a fiddle string and about to snap. Of course, you also have the mystic chanters, who stand reading their notes and then close their eyes tightly chanting some mystic language repeatedly. Although I suspect some form of memory-boosting dark magic, it’s probably just a string of anatomical Latin.

Above the door to the exam hall should be the sign – ‘Abandon all hope, ye who enter here’. The invigilator, playing Virgil to our Dante, signals us to enter. At this point, everyone turns towards the door with the resignation that they’re going to meet their doom.

Settling down, after checking 15 times that I have a functioning pen and pencil, my phone is definitely off (you used to be able to take the batteries out of these things!?) and frisking myself to make sure no stray notes are on me, I take my seat and wait for the exam to begin. As everyone opens the exam paper a few whimpers are heard around the room. I on the other hand opt for the less subtle hitting my head off the desk – met with a disapproving look by an invigilator!

My internal monologue keeps repeating “Read the whole question, read the WHOLE question”, as I skim the first few words of question one and immediately skip to the next page. Okay, relax. You only need to answer three of them. Who on earth thought that using the word “moribund” in an essay question was a great idea?? Checking the front of the paper again to make sure I haven’t wandered into an English Literature exam, I turn back and decided to take a wild stab at what that meant. My questions chosen, I move to the not-so-subtle technique of scrawling a complete memory dump across the first few pages. In theory, I use this to attempt to structure the essays in some semblance of order, taking pity on the poor person that has to mark my ramblings. However, I’m pretty sure what I had for breakfast and some random Simpson’s facts ended up in there too. Hmm, it would really help if I could read my own handwriting…

I was still furiously writing when “time’s up” was shouted across the room. My last sentence looked like I’d fallen off my chair and dragged the pen with me.

Well, that’s it, all finished! I had the irresistible urge to run out of the front gate shouting “Freeeeedom” in a Braveheart-esque gesture. Once again the groups were together undermining each other’s confidence, this time about how easy they thought it was. You could see people’s faces suddenly drop when they realised no one else gave the same answers. I’m pretty sure that a few of the caffeine addicts were passed out in the corridor. Everyone else was off to the pub, their tiredness suddenly gone.

I’m off to bed! Just think – there’s plenty of time until the next exams…