340. Exam time 😭

Here we go again. 

Exam season. Which means me and the little pink car are off on a mission … 

I set off in the early morning under a beautiful sky : orange and pink stripes on a pale blue background. The black branches of the still naked trees make the scene even more striking. I am thinking I could stop and take pictures but then my hyper professional conscience tells me I cannot be late and so I keep on driving. Sleepy teenagers are waiting for me. The closer I get to my destination the less striking the scene is …

I get a warm, human, welcome. This makes me happy, it has become the exception rather than the norm. The nice lady chats to me about the weather and takes me across the yard to another building where I receive an other very warm human welcome. A young dynamic man greets me with enthusiasm, he really seems happy to see me. I cannot believe it and am a little tense. Are they mistaking me for the lady coming to clean the coffee machine or something?

‘Sit down! I’ll get you a coffee.’

Relief. I obediently sit down, looking forward to a coffee. With it comes a folder full of instructions. After some more chitchat about the weather I am taken back across the yard. The young enthusiastic man opens all the doors for me and opens all the blinds all the perfectly clean classroom where I will spend the next two days. I notice it is well-heated too. And I do not even have to move the furniture around. It has been done for me.

I settle down in a good mood and wait - almost eagerly - for my first candidate out of six. The morning passes quite uneventful. I check my watch and notice that I am making perfect timing.

As I’m shuffling papers and getting ready for the last candidate a teenager bursts into the classroom. 

‘Excuse me.’ I say. ‘Could you please wait outside until I ask you to come in. There is a sign here telling you so.’ 

I tap the sign with my pencil: huge bold black letters saying do not enter unless invited. The teenager looks at the sign and with a shrug of the shoulders saunters off.

I go back to my seat, a little annoyed. I shuffle some more papers. When I am ready I go outside to invite the examinee. 

No-one. 

I look around the yard. Still no-one. I call his name. No replies.

The yard is quiet and empty. Where did that insolent teenager go? I’m beginning to worry about having upset him so much that he did a runner. He’s hiding somewhere smoking. Or worse, he has left school and is heading home to his mummy who is going to shout at me … I take one last look around and notice a hooded figure in the distance, shoulders shaking to the beat of some music only he can hear. I then notice the headphones, gamer-type.

I sigh deeply and shout his name. He jumps round and waves! This kid is about to sit an exam and he waves at the examiner! He comes forward and has the delicacy to pause a little at the door. I nod briefly to indicate that yes, now he is invited to come in.

No hello.

‘HELLO!’ I shout, making him jump again. He takes the headset off and says hello. I motion him towards the desk. He sits down and fumbles in the depth of his backpack pulling things out haphazardly: a chewed pencil, his ID card, bits of paper, …

‘Your portfolio?’ I ask in a stern voice because this teen is getting on my nerves.

He starts to mumble.

‘Your seras of documents? Please, get them ready. One for you and one for me.’

The cool kid is starting to falter, his eyes are starting to water and his mouth to mutter some incomprehensible things.

He hasn’t got a set for me. He is not the first one, a few of them have not bothered about two sets. I take the set of documents.

‘Ready?’ My finger hovering on the timer.

‘No. I’m not ready.’ He has the cheek to tell me!

‘What do you mean no?’ I cannot believe I’m hearing this. Yet I notice more tears in his eyes and the lips trembling. The not being ready thing seems to be real.

‘I’m not ready, I can’t do this.’

‘I’m afraid you have to. This is an exam. This is the Baccalaureate exam.’ I stress the word trying to make it sound super important.

Bad idea.

‘I can’t. I’m afraid of you.’

And more tears. In all my years of teachers and doing exams like this I have never heard anyone say that to me. And believe me I have been a lot more stern and scary than today. I hesitate between the traditional shouting louder approach or the more modern attitude. I go for the latter, safer option. Maybe he has called his mum after all.

‘Just go outside, take a few steps and breathe in deeply (I mimic the breathing deeply just to make sure) then breathe out very slowly (more mimicking from me).’

He is off out into the cold air without a coat. I glance at the gate just in case the irate mother is on her way. Then I glance at the boy: he is obediently pacing up and down the yard breathing in, breathing out like I showed him.

He comes back and sits down and does his bit. During the whole twenty minutes he blinks repeatedly and insistently and I am wondering if it’s to keep the tears at bay.