Written by: Amal Javed Abdullah
“You may now begin the test. Good luck.”
You flip over the test. Name, check. Student ID, check. Did you spell your name correctly? Should there be two As or three? And why does your last name look so long in comparison to your first? Who cares?
Flip. Page one. Multiple choice: the two-faced deceiver. You always think this cat’s in the bag, but don’t let it trick you. It will leap at you and scratch out your eyeballs when you realize that none of the answers you know match the options listed. The art of MCQs is to figure out the best time to employ the timeless decision-making method of “eeny, meeny, miny, moe.” The farther into the semester, the earlier you use it. You go through all of them and tick off whichever sounds remotely close to the snippets you heard between naps during lecture. Remember to circle in the Scantrons completely. Check, check, check. Done.
Flip. Flip. Short Answer. You read the first question, and your hopes plummet as low as the number on your bank statement. “That’s it,” you think, “I’m done for.” It’s not too late to run away and join the circus. Big red lips and wonky wigs would suit your facial shape.
But okay. Fine. You decide to do it anyway. You can’t just leave it blank. You BS something, some random, obscure, and vague fact that you desperately hope will get you half marks. Quarter marks. One-eighth marks? Anything? Moving on. The next question is better, because you remember hearing about this when that annoying dude wouldn’t shut up about it that one day you showed up to tutorial. Relief floods you. Maybe you won’t have to beg on the streets after all. “Mama,” you think, “I’m gonna make it.”
Flip. Essay questions. You’re okay, you think, you’re doing okay. You got this. You read the options. Ohhh boy, oh buddy. Might as well apply for that job at McDonald’s now. The scent of artery-clogging fried fats is always in style when you’re broke. Might as well BS this one too. You deliberate making a note at the bottom to your prof hoping she’ll give you pity marks. She won’t, but say goodbye to your self-respect anyways. Did you have any to lose in the first place?
Done. You get up and hand in your paper at the front, shoving your ID in the TAs face. Time to go home, empty your mind of all things useful and vegetate with Netflix before your next exam.
