Exams: hate to hate them

For some the word ‘exam’ is the difference between a diploma and the unemployment line. For others it’s the difference between a dream job and a checkout counter, or perhaps it means a dreaded (and probably embarrassing) trip to a hospital or doctor’s clinic. For second year University students it might mean blogging about exams the night before you have one because you want to avoid the blasted things for just a little longer, but maybe that's just me.

Whatever the word means to you, most humane and rational beings despise exams (unless they go by the name Hermione Granger - and even then the bushy haired super witch gets stressed about them too on occasion). I’m sure you’ve been there at some point, your eyes and back aching as you strain over textbooks, or your blood pressure rising as you prepare for your fate in a waiting room. Then as you sit there, the words flying in and out of your ears like little butterflies – you silently (or loudly depending on the kind of person you are) plea for it all to be over. In my case I frequently visualize exams as a great big punching bag I can pound into. Every time I study I’m jabbing it in, pounding it into the ground on the day of the exam, until hopefully a nice big pass mark shows up and the bag is nothing but dust.

Of course the lucky Americans are on summer holidays right now, basking in their beautiful freedom from study. Here in the future land of reality however (New Zealand), winter is here and I’ll be spending tomorrow and the 21^st attempting to rip my punching bag to shreds – wish me luck!

P.S - all non-citizens of future land should note that flying cars have still not been invented, and the third floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds to those who do not wish to suffer a painful death.