Skip to main content

Tests and Signs

Today’s room was the worst possible room to give a test.
The seats, they stretched up like ones you might find in a theater, only closer front-to-back.
Paul walked in with a goofy, innocent grin on his face.
He turned towards me and smiled. He was the first one there.
“Hi, I’m Paul,” he said.
I stared at him briefly, wondering.
“Hi Paul,” I told him. “Have a seat and we’ll start soon.”
The rest came in slow, and without introductions.
The last girl had to labor to reach the remaining empty seat. It was the one halfway up and in the center. I was sorry she had to squeeze.
At last though, they were all settled, cozy, and desperate.

As a student myself, I knew how they feel. It was nice for a change, to watch them cringe and see them looking up at me, hoping one day they would be there.
It was nice, too, knowing that tomorrow I wouldn’t have to be.
“Turn your tests over and begin,” I announced.

The first question was easy.
And it came quick.
“On number one, the fist choice, ‘a,’ says both options ‘a’ and ‘e’?”
“You are right,” I said. “That might be a typo, or not. You should do the best you can.”
The right answer was both “d” and “e”. That wasn't one of the choices.
They did not need to know that. I made a note to tell my advisor about that one.

I wrote on the white board, in big black letters, that they should write their names on both the score card and the test. I interrupted their panic to tell them so. They did need to know this.

Through most of the test, Paul looked like he was about to piss himself.
Finally, to my relief as well as his, he got up and marched in.
I watched his nameless test approach me.
Paul placed it and his score card on the table I was leaning on.
“Uhhh… you need to write your name on that,” I said glaring at him suspiciously.
He looked up at up me like I was crazed and said, “My test?”
“Your test,” I repeated. “I need you to put your name on it.”
“My, my test?” Paul stammered.
“Yes, put your name on it.” This was not a fun game.
“Why?” he asked and seriously looked like he wanted to know.
“Because!” I said, and imagined stamping my foot a little. “Write your name on the test.”
The rest of the class was no longer taking theirs.
“Well I didn’t write in it.” he declared. He was growing too bold.
He picked up his test and dramatically leafed through it to prove his point, then looked up at me. It was like a stare down I might have had with a cat.
I am good at those.
I always win.

“Dumb ass,” I thought, as he marched off indignant.
I turned back towards the class. They made like they had not seen a thing.
I looked down.
I was holding a test. It was signed. And I have no idea why.

Comments

Queenie said…
Congratulations on passing the test, cbeck.

Q
cbeck said…
Indeed? Thank you.
phoebe said…
even having no idea what kind of test this was, this cracked me up. mostly because I'm so grateful to have no tests to take on my immediate horizon. :-) happy friday, Q!
hey! why is cbeck posting over here? what's going on in the force called "blogger".

WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH QUEENIE?

IS THIS A TEST?
Queenie said…
Look who's being nosy...:)

Q
cbeck said…
heheh...

I got lost briefly in the darkness... I saw white words illuminating me. I clicked, "Post".
clearly queenie and cbeck are part of a new blogging clique. click? is it like a blogging marriage of sorts? is cbeck leaving behind his old friends..er, blog?

yes, dammit, i'm nosy! anytime i smell secrecy...i get nosy.

and i smell secrecy here...oh yes...i'll keep reading...for clues...

:)
Queenie said…
Maybe you have missed some already?
Hmmmm.

Q
Anonymous said…
Well, not everyone has missed them...heheh


Inspector Cluseau


P.S.: Does your dug baete?

Popular posts from this blog

Again

When I was in Ottawa, abandoned and enthralled,
breathing in the
heat waves shimmering off the people
and the cats
and that lazy raccoon that I later named Mondrian in my mind
after I saw my first one,
I did not look for you.
Nor in the malls, the halls,
the magazines, in the new towns,
or down the old roads,
on silver screens, between the book shelves, down on my knees
hands in the clover.
Never.
I took you for granted.
Oh hey.
There you are.

I know myself
Far, far, far more than I let on
I know what I am doing.
Regardless.


Love is such an easy word.
Besides, it's a given,
We can keep it there, easy, big, broad like the straight black painted lines, it's nice.
Effortless. Quiet. Assured.
So then, I guess that it is not the word.

Punks-Starting to Remember

Minnie is 14. She likes wearing bright red lipstick and getting high.
Right now, Tommy is arguing with her. "Vitto will be waiting for me then."
"He can wait longer," she tells him. "Tell him there was too many cops following you around or something."
"Yeah," Tommy says. "That might work. Vitto would believe that. Three different cops stopped me on the street this week."
"What?" Minnie almost shouted. "Oh, Tommy. They are on to you."
“No, they aren't."
But she knew. "For sure they are. Listen. Meet me outside the pool hall at 9:30. I'll havethe dope then, Tommy."
“No. I really should go see Vitto first.” He kisses her quickly on the forehead and then runs home to make himself some Kraft Dinner for supper.

When he walks in the front door, there is Momma with a bottle of whiskey tucked between her legs, her head rolled to the back of the couch, her mouth open.
"What the fuck, Momma?” Tomm…

Quiet Company

I've been sold, I've been sold, I've been sold, I'm being sold-out
It is torture but
I don't even care
Except to love you more, to love myself more
Those hot-burned tears for you as I rally to save my skin
wind down me and leave behind gold and green
and I don't stop looking
until I look upon you
What on earth...
I've been sold, I've been sold, I've been sold.
I'm being sold-out.


Sunlight filtering through cracks
in the sky
in the walls
fall across your skin
I fingerpaint across your chest
Every word
known to man
and found in you

Fresh snow
Our footprints mark us
You are here!
I am here!
We are here!
Turn your face upwards
Let falling snow rest on your eyelashes
(dream of me)
Let the white melt on your outstretched tongue

Sing.
It's spring.
Just one word.


I'd sit across the hall
looking upwards until I saw the flicker; light on
Sit with you while your busy hands rolled over these plains, these fields
The stretches of nothing
(Look at…