The Real Test

Most of my friends know me as the 'dramatic one'--I pour my emotions into every word and thought. Less charitably put, I over exaggerate. I can prepare for a quiz like I do for a final exam because of my exaggerated worries. I can stay awake all night thinking about a small project because of my self-created pressure. My exaggeration is sometimes beneficial when I need to use hyperboles, but mostly detrimental when I think too much. Unfortunately, I thought too much during the day of the Gr. 7 Spectrum exam. I could not control my wild thoughts.

Leading up to the exam hour, I was sitting in my Gr. 7 classroom, sweating and worrying if I would pass the exam. I looked outside. The sun was shining and the wind was blowing. Gr. 1's were laughing but my heart was pounding. The clock struck two thirty: I was an hour away from a crisis; I had to write an exam. Out of all the afternoons that flew by in elementary, this one mattered. This one could determine whether I get into the incentive program or not. This one could change my future.

As I slowly exit the school and climbed into my father's car, I tried to calm myself. One side of my brain advised, "relax, this is just another test. Just do your best." The other side screamed, "you have prepared for this exam for a week now! Don't mess up!" The two sides bickered back and forth.

"You have studied all you could. There's no point in worrying."

"You can't shut down brain activity! Think, think, think!"

"When you are thinking of pressure, you are thinking of failure."

"But what if you do fail? What will your parents say?"

For almost the entire car ride, my mind was hosting a Civil War. One side was relaxed and the other pressured.

Eventually, the pressure side won. When I entered Steveston Secondary, the smell of sweat rushed into my nose. I sensed the tension of each and every applicant in the hallway. Although some students chatted casually, I heard the fear in their voices. I speculated that they too were nervous. I bet they wished they were watching television at home with no pressure whatsoever.


Half an hour passed and I was aimlessly scanning the crowd for the hundredth time. Bored, I looked at my watch: it read three thirty. I looked again: it did read three thirty. A few minutes later, classroom doors swung wide open. A teacher walked out, explained exam rules, and guided students into the test rooms. His speech was about ten minutes but all I heard was 'don't cheat'. I was too absorbed in my own thoughts to process any of his words. My father pushed me forward, "Go, go! What are you waiting for? Didn't you hear him? Students with your last name will write the test in room 105!" Frightened like a kitten, I followed his order and made my way into my assigned room.

Once all the students neatly sat down, the examiner cleared his throat and hollered, "You are to have nothing on your desk except two pens, a whiteout, and a calculator. If you want scrap paper, raise your hand and I'll give you some. Is that clear? Any questions?" Nobody dared to put up his/her hand. The examiner responded, "Ok, then. Let's begin."

While he was handing out the test papers, he smiled little and frowned little. I thought teachers were supposed to make students feel at ease. He should have told us 'good luck' or at least smiled. As a result, I was quite scared by his emotionless expression. At the same time, though, his authoritative presence and strict demeanour calmed me down: I couldn't jump around even if I wanted to. He seemed like an adult who would force children to do push-ups or run laps if they misbehaved. That teacher, as I would later find out, was Mr. Yu. Ironically enough, he leads the high school cross country team; no wonder he gave me that kind of impression. After the exam papers were handed out, Mr. Yu told the students to flip the pages over. Off I went, like a horse sprinting out of the gates. I started to write. I wrote and I wrote. Before two hours passed, I had finished the whole test. Surprisingly, the questions weren't as tough as I expected. I had given myself too much pressure in the beginning.

In conclusion, I realize the most challenging part of the Spectrum exam was controlling my thoughts. I had convinced myself that this test would be the hardest one ever; thus, I spent more time worrying than preparing. Instead of reviewing English terminologies and math equations, I wasted a bunch of hours soaking my shirt with sweat. In truth, I was torturing myself. I allowed my emotions to over shadow my logic. Before even entering the exam room, I had already been thinking about the consequences of failing: I was both preparing and prepared to fail. If I continue with that kind of mindset, I will achieve nothing in life. I will be too absorbed in thinking about failures to remember the taste of success. Sooner or later, I will actually be failing. To correct myself, I need to think positively, to do my best, and to have faith in myself. If I had done that in Gr. 7, I could have ignored the Spectrum test result. I would have aced the real test anyway--the test with myself.