That’s What Happens!

I entered the place. Everybody was seated. An air of fear-mixed-sorrow had filled the place. A few Long, a few sad, a few tensed and a very few calm faces were to be seen. I waited till it was time to start my performance. I shouted loud at the people seated there. Few paid heed. Everyone was still busy with their own contemplations. I was not supposed to stop the performance. I shouted again; a little louder this time that only four people from a kilometer away could have heard my scream. People in this place, however, seemed unperturbed. By then they got the signal from the concerned authority. And they all kept quiet.

I asked them to put away their belongings since their belongings would hamper their performance. They did so reluctantly; a few of them still hanging onto their bags, as if someone is snatching away their loved one whom they’d never want to let go. Finally it was time I showed my multi-tasking skills. I picked up the paper bundle and started distributing the papers to the students. Yes! I was invigilating an exam hall. (When I said ‘my performance’ I meant ‘invigilation’. And when I said “belongings” I meant “books”.) And at the same time scanning everyone with suspicion as if they were all criminals and I was a cop.

By then the question papers arrived. I gave them to the students went to my designated place and looked at everyone. Few of the students had broad smiles by looking at the question paper, a few of them were tensed, a few of them were almost into tears (and of course they were girls), a few more seemed not to care, but most of the boys there looked at the paper as if they were looking at something that had come from a different world. They were looking more into the font, font size, color, texture of the paper etc. than on what was printed on it.

I was asked by the principal to sign on the students’ answer scripts and admit cards as a sign of authentication and verification. I went to the students and asked them to give me their admit cards and answer sheets. When I say “Your answer booklet, please” they’d have a “Why-the-hell-do-you-want-it” look. And instantly I would get offended (I seriously don’t have an idea why!)

After all that drama of “Verification” I went back to my place and started filling in the details of absentees and so on in the register that was given to me, looking at the students in the meanwhile. Not just looking; I was scanning.

In just fifteen to twenty minutes my job was done. Only I had to stand there and invigilate. I came across this wall-post on Facebook once. It was about what boys do in an exam hall in contrast to what girls do. It says “Boys look at the paper. Take a pen and look at its texture. Write on the question paper to check whether the pen is working or not. Then look at the girls in the exam hall. Check the time. Look at the answer script. After they get bored with checking out everything in the exam hall starting from the windows, door, and the invigilator to benches, desks, table, and dust on the floor and so on, they finally look into the question paper. Write only one answer for all the questions or recollect a film story and write it on the answer script. After a few minutes again they get back to checking out things. But what girls do in an exam hall is, write, write, write, ask for an additional sheet, tuck their hair behind their ears again write, write, write and ask for an additional sheet and keep repeating the same.”  So that’s exactly what happens in exam halls. But one more thing that’s left out is, boys and also girls, copy. They basically just talk to their friends to collect the answers. Girls want their friends to acknowledge if their answers are right. But boys only want to help and be helped they wont bother if their answer is correct. Having the answer script filled to decent extent (they decide what’s decent. For them filling up just two pages is a favor they’re doing to the teacher) is what matters to them.

So everyone knows students’ version of the exam-hall-ordeal. But no one tells you the tragic version of the one who’s invigilating. For the first few minutes, invigilation won’t be that bad. And later on you’ll be absolutely jobless. So after the first twenty minutes, I look outside the door. Look at the students and shout at them once or twice. Then get back to my place and keep invigilating their pitiful state. I try remembering how I felt writing the exam. But one thing keeps me up and going for one and half hours. That is, tea!! Only the thought of being able to have my share of caffeine after one and half hours keeps me afloat. And there it comes, my savior for me to savor. When I get my tea I look at the students. They have a “Why-her-and-not-us” look. Some even say it. “We are writing exam and she enjoys tea” however I ignore their looks; pitying their pathetic state and thanking god for I have already served my sentence. Once I’m done with my tea. I would be fine for the next fifteen minutes. But after that I keep checking my watch more than the students. Also reminding them how much time they have to prove their worth in those godforsaken answer scripts. That way I soothe myself that it’s not too much time before I could finish my ordeal for that one day of invigilation.

I get restless, for nobody seems to be finishing their arguments in the paper anytime soon. What initially starts as simple restlessness goes on to become frustration and finally turns into reckless shouting of time being up and I even try to snatch away the papers so that I go back home.

So after three long hours of continuous-frustrating-joblessness I submit the papers in the office room and find my way to my bike as quickly as possible. This time I write any exam, I’ve promised myself not to feel bad about the invigilator getting some tea, I’d rather pity them more than I pity myself!

• Posted in: Experience