The exams are over. For now. Last Friday I had an important exam. They piled us into the gymnasium-turned-examination hall, and began distributing the tests. Just minutes before nervous students were frantically revising outside, filling their short term memory with information that will evaporate as soon as they leave the room. Sometimes I'm truly amazed at the bullshit that comes out of my pen during exam time. How do I manage to become this creative to fill out pages and pages with volumes of pseudo-intellectual garbage barely held together by a flimsy skeleton of random half-accurate references? This particular exam was no different, I wrote unceasingly from the beginning till the end. One excercise was numerical in nature, and though my accounts did not balance - I think I did ok overall. I hate those people who when asked how they did say "I did horrible" and then they get an 80. If you know you did well, say so, don't pretend to be a victim.
There was a man in the examination hall. Suited & booted, tall, broad shouldered, caucasian with features that kept my looks off my paper for a while and could easily get him featured in a Marlboro commercial. He was one of the professors at the school, although I never had any classes with him. He manouvered his way around the desks, checking with exceptional dilligence and scrutiny whether any of us dared to bring forbidden aids to the exam. He squinted at pencil cases, picked them up, examined them in his large hands and put them on the floor. The stern and serious look never left his face, and when he made a short announcement the tone of his voice commanded attention and carried authority. After the exam, when we were still seated at our desks waiting for the papers to be collected, my attention was redirected to him automatically. People were beginning to chat to one another comparing answers, as they would, and I just sat there, relieved to have finished and mesmerized by what I was witnessing. The head professor made a request for everyone to stay seated and be quiet. The invigilator started approaching individual students who were chatting and telling them to be quiet. I watched every step he made and observed his facial expression with such intensity, aware that the moment would soon end. The level of frustration in his narrowing eyes grew and grew as students continued to chat in various scattered locations and he was obviously unable to stop this slowly increasing murmur. He however kept on swiftly walking from desk to desk, from group to group, persisting on telling as many people as possible not to converse and each time it was done with more fervor, impatience, frustration and intensity. He was becoming like some crazed charicature of an evil professor from a Pink Floyd song, and oblivious to anyone but me, he was approaching boiling point. Everyone else was distracted, but I was held prisoner, frozen by this momentary inconspicuous spectacle. Two seats in front of me a Chinese girl started chatting in to her classmate. The prof leaped over there from nowhere, like a large cat, stood over her, stooping down so that his eyes, just inches from hers became frighteningly intimidating, his expression furious, and he spit out loud enough for everyone to hear "you, shut up!" It was incredible. I found that whole moment so extremely exhilirating and was captivated by it. It's taken me a day and a half to shake it off. It was such an intense experience, and yet all I did was watch passively. in the end he finally gave up and walked away from the students, over to the examinator tables and began counting the exam papers, burning off steam.
Later I found out about that man. He is an author of one of the best selling and widely used textbooks on investment & finance in the UK & the world, he is a doctor, and predominantly works with PhD students. To watch a person of such esteemed status and position feel so powerless was incredible.
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