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.