Exam Hell You’ll Absolutely Remember
The Debrief: Stomach rumbling was a total nightmare
Anyone deep in exam hell at the moment? Air hugs coming your way sister. Exams are the worst. And not even because of all the work you’ve got to do beforehand. The actual worst part about exams is the fact that sitting them is a total social minefield. Between rumbling stomachs and the overachievers asking for more paper, it’s probably the single most unpleasant experience you can go through in your youth after whatever happened the day you discovered alco-pops (blue sick EVERYWAH).
Anyways, here’s the very worst of exams.
The stomach rumble
A room full of hundreds of kids sitting in complete silence? Make sure you don’t skip breakfast kids lest your stomach does that Shreddies monster thing and growls like a pitbull that’s just spotted you trying to sneak the last sausage off the plate. Cue you overcompensating and bringing a big bag of nuts/dried fruit which earns you disgruntled looks from your neighbour for all the rustling you’re causing.
Being stupid enough to risk cheating
We all did it at some point. Whether you wrote ‘Corn Laws 1815’ on your leg under your skirt or whether you got more extreme and stashed a few answers in the toilet cistern beforehand, it definitely did more harm than good to your mental state thanks to the added worry of getting caught. Turns out you didn’t even need your notes anyways.
The smug face on your teacher
Mr Jones was the actual worst. And so, being a teenager you obviously taunted him mercilessly. That time you all locked him the stationary cupboard was a personal high. Now though, in the exam room, the tables have turned and he knows it and you know it. While you’re in for three hours of mad writing hell, Mr Jones is going to sit up at the front, feet on desk and watch you suffer. The worst thing is that you totally deserve it.
The speed writer
In all fairness this exam dick was actually me although trust me when I say what I was writing was definitely more quantity than quality. I don’t actually think anyone could write 14 coherent pages on Carol Ann Duffy’s The Onion, let alone me. Anyways, how’s only being on page seven of your answer booklet while your neighbour’s wildly waving her hand around for more sheets do for pressure?
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At work? With your gran?
You might want to think about the fact you're about to read something that wouldn't exactly get a PG rating