‘Tis finally the season, the time to reap what you sow. The two-week period you never wanted to anticipate, creeps up on you like a bug on your arm. It’s in the middle of the night, a few hours prior to your exam sitting, and you can’t stop thinking about that one venue where all hell breaks loose: The Exam Hall 2! You’ve got a bunch of PDF files to revise from, one being a 500-page document that you only got to page 4 in the endless hours since you sat down. Barely scratched the surface. You slouch on the chair, face masked onto the ceiling, you take a deep sigh and start lamenting to your ancestors why you never took it seriously from the beginning.
“Why didn’t I study earlier? Why do I do this to myself every single semester?” You shake your fist in the air, vowing to change (spoiler: you won’t).
Worst feeling ever I tell you!
Now picture this: It’s exam day. You wake up with the gentle caress of panic stroking your drooling face, whispering sweet nothings like, “You’re doomed.”(kumbe ulikaokota kwa kiti!) You glance at the clock. It’s already 7:30 AM. The exam starts at 8:00 AM. You haven’t studied. At all. Maybe you glanced at your notes once (4 pages max)…while scrolling through memes. But now? Now is the time for action.
While you’re still at it, doing nothing but panicking, you eventually start making a bargain with yourself, thinking you can sail on against the storm. LOL!
You hit yourself with the, “It can’t be that bad. Maybe they’ll ask questions I somehow know the answers to… through osmosis or divine intervention.” And another, “If I pass this exam, I swear I’ll never procrastinate again!” (Yeah, right). But then you also start making a plan B still on the chair, contemplating a new life as a potato farmer in rural nowhere.
Amidst all this chaotic thinking that’s trafficking your brain, all that’s left is acceptance. “Okay, fine. Let’s wing it.” (anguka nayo!…kufa dereva, kufa makanga)
Cramming Marathon
Armed with nothing but a sense of impending doom, you skim through your notes at lightning speed. Your brain, however, decides now is the perfect time to retain nothing. Everything you read seems like a foreign language. You consider downloading information directly into your brain, but alas, Elon Musk’s neural implants aren’t available yet. So instead, you focus on selective cramming – “I’ll just learn the first three topics and hope for the best.”
The Walk of Doom
The journey to the exam room feels like marching to the gallows. Every step you take, every breath you fake, you’re closer to your academic judgment day. Not far off, you lay eyes on the students who actually studied (these don’t own the title of a comrade), chatting about topics you don’t even recognize. “Did you review chapter seven?”. Chapter seven? There’s a chapter seven?!
The Battle Strategy…(that never works)
You enter the exam hall and survey the landscape like a battle-hardened general. Do you sit near the smart kid? Too obvious. Near the front? Too risky. You settle in the middle row—far enough to avoid scrutiny, but close enough to peek at nearby answers (not that it helps, everyone seems just as clueless).
The invigilator hands out the papers. You flip yours over. Your soul leaves your body.
Question one: Looks familiar.
Question two: Looks like ancient Greek.
Question three: Is this even from our syllabus?
You begin the ancient art of “creative answering.” When in doubt, write long, complicated sentences that say absolutely nothing. Sprinkle in some big words: “Thus, the fundamental principles of quantum alchemy suggest…” (there’s no such thing, but hey, it sounds smart).
Halfway through the exam, you resort to extreme tactics: Staring at the ceiling for divine inspiration. Writing really small in the hopes it looks like more work. Attempting telepathic communication with the smartest person in the room. Making random doodles in the margins to “show your thought process” (haha! done this one countless times).
The invigilator announces, “Five minutes remaining.” You panic, speed-writing nonsense like an author on a deadline.
You submit your paper with an air of fake confidence, knowing deep down that you’ve just committed academic fraud against yourself. Walking out, your friends discuss their answers enthusiastically, and you just nod along, pretending you too knew what an “enthalpic reaction coefficient” was. smh!
Self-Reflection
After the exam, you indulge in some self-care: re-evaluating your life choices. You tell yourself, “Next semester, I’ll start early.” You won’t. In fact, you pull up with your friends at the FIFA base for a game or two, wallowing in the pleasures of scoring your opponent an inconceivable amount of goals (I know one who does this).
Until then, you bask in the hope that maybe, just maybe, the professor will have mercy… or curve the grades like a roller coaster. But what comes after is a story for another day.
For now, I’ll leave you with this wise saying: When all else fails, write long sentences and hope the professor is impressed by your handwriting.
Ciao!
