Hopefully by now everyone will have finished the latest bout of post Christmas torture that the establishment likes to call “Exams”. Whether it be A-levels, GCSE’s or University exams there is one defining quality which unites them all: they’re shit. 

 

It doesn’t matter if you are the person who studies diligently and can no longer recognise their friends in the street or the person with the laissez faire attitude who shrinks away at the first rustle of literature- on exam day you are all equals. You will still wake up in the morning with that dull sense of knowledge that something bad is going to happen. At first you think it’s a dentist appointment or an awkward trip to the doctors about that rash. But then you realise the rash cleared up a couple of weeks ago and you never bothered to register with your university dentist. Its exam day and whether you stay or go, you are destined to spend it engaged in some degree of angst.

 

Exam rooms are possibly the least conducive atmosphere for focused intelligent thought. A prominently placed clock reminds you of the hours, minutes and seconds that are slipping by you with every panicky breath you take. People with bad shoes and bad oral hygiene wander round, staring at you with such intensity that it’s as if they are trying to induce an episode of paranoid schizophrenia with the power of their eyes. You are uncomfortable on your hard plastic chair, cut off from communication, and have no access to sustenance- it could be reasonably argued that these are not humane conditions. 

 

There must be a better way. Why not fill up a room with cheap old armchairs? The backs and high arm rests render it impossible to see anyone in the chairs behind or beside you. The invigilators would quietly serve hot beverages while inconspicuously maintaining high standards of morality in the room. Some soft, inoffensive classical music would murmur from a record player in the corner, and everyone could bring a small picnic of whatever cakes or sandwiches the liked. In this way the group would pass a couple of hours of quiet study, displaying their knowledge or lack-of. Those that hadn’t bothered to open a book could have a nap once they had run out of things to say and everyone would leave feeling alright.

 

Well, a girl can dream…