Survival In An Exam Room

Madeeha Qasmi Mrs. Rogers-Wardle English Writing November 16, 2001 Survival in an Exam path         Weakly, I walk to class. The h eitherways are dim and gloomy, promising how eer pain and suffering. As I enter the classroom, I am momentarily blinded by the bright classroom lights. When my eyeball adjusted to the lighting I wish the lights had done a permanent job on my eyes. The sight before me is more than depressing and agonizing than any I bring ever before essayn. My teacher is wearing a caustic and inhuman expression on his face. His stance is rigid and closed mangle with his arms folded in. on that point is no comfort to be bring there. The times of laughter and joy in class have passed. There will be no teasing and dawdler fun at one another straight off; today is exam day.

It is too painful to look at my at once confidante and now jailer for the next couple of hours, so I shift my gaze to my peers. They dont make me feel any better. not one girl has taken the time to lay out on make-up and not one boy is wearing mousse in his hair. The dark circles under their eyes look impossibly black and trustedly had to have been painted on for the nominate of arousing sympathy. E rattlingone looks weak and panicked. I crowd out see the beaded soapsuds pouring down the fore topics of a select few. Nails are existence bitten, foreheads are furrowed and teeth are chattering. We are all doomed.

I take my merchant ship. My chair and table are harsh and cold, seemingly trying to send me a subliminal pass on stating to me my forthcoming doom. As my teacher passes out those feared documents, I stinkpot taste my anxiety. My mouth is drying up fast. My exam opus is on my desk. At that moment, the clock starts ticking, the volume rising each minute. The step on it physical composition that my peers are doing is making a scratching wholesome and I dissolve hear people flip pages around. already I can life the whiteout that is suffocating me with its rugged and toxic scent. I can hear people dada cough tablets in their mouths, and now I can smell it. Theres cherry zest and a honey lemon flavor packet going around the class.

        I start writing my exam when the first sniffles start to show themselves. Right when I am half way through a very long and passionate answer, I am rudely excite out of my seat with a loud honk. The first sneeze. now the tissues are organism passed about and I can see the runny and watery eyes. There is nothing I can do. I sit stand down in my seat and continue to write the words that will decide my future.



If I write well, I will live, if not, then I totter to think of what course of action my parents will take.

Soon, I can hear the whispers and begging! The cheating and negotiating has started. I am sure I heard the sentence, You scratch my back, I scratch yours. then(prenominal) I work I am also being spoken to. I look into their hopeless face and beseeching eyes, and know that I can do nothing for them. besides much is at stake here. Its every student for him and herself. I have to get back to writing my exam.

I am finally on the last page. Sighing, I let my back slump over the table, and briefly put my head down. There is a chill rising from the tiles of the floor and my desk is making my horn in sine qua non to sneeze. I pick up my pen and realize there is something sticky on my fact where I put it down on my desk. Some of the words on my paper are smudged. There is sticky black ink on my face. This day could not get any worse. Resigned, I try to make out the words, ignore the aches in my hands, back and head and continue writing; the bell indicating my confinement is over, rings. Time to sleep.

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