a test within a test (within)

This morning I opened my eyes and stared blankly at the ceiling. The comforter had shifted in my sleep, cold air, a newer sensation to me, swept across my exposed skin; I hid back under the covers for a few minutes longer. Then, eventually, I dragged myself across the room and through the door to eat something before my test. I felt like today was definitely an off kilter day for me, but I couldn't place the strange dread that was all too real. Outside the world seemed to agree with me. The sky cried and the wind moaned in unison with the fat droplets that hit my windshield, as the wipers danced the only dance they know.

Enter The Testing Environment. Really. You will see that this place needs to be an active character. But I wont skip too far ahead. So pay attention to the now. I climbed up three flights of stairs in the library where the test was located--I needed to wake up a little more. I am all too familiar with the test site, so I was disappointed to see that a magic cubical room did not present itself on the third floor. We were, instead, testing in a room where the computers are far too close together. And to my astonishment the proctor was checking people in in the very room where people were testing. I was photographed and "checked-in," then taken to the computer where I would test for the next two hours. I asked for noise cancellation headphones because I had been given some at the last test site for the first portion of the test. One of the proctors went to ask the other proctor, and she walked back and handed me regular headphones, computer with a microphone attachment: what the hell--another bad sign.

I got in my test mode, smoothed the ends of my scarf attached pink snowflake jacket on my knees and folded my legs, criss-cross-applesauce, on the wheely chair. I clicked through the questions, and I found myself skipping quite a few. Crap, I thought, crap. Once I was 2/3 through (mind you I skipped many), the computer showed the spinning circle. And it kept spinning. A few minutes later I found the person next to me make eye contact with me, and we realized both our circles were spinning. The person to the far right of me had the same predicament. We raised our hands. One proctor walked up to us, told us to wait, and the other proctor called the appropriate peoples. We waited. Finally, after about thirty minutes all the systems were rebooted. No one knew whether the test would resume where we had each left off, or whether we had lost all the work we had done so far. Once my screen looked like the earlier one I had started with I felt a sense of relief. Now I could get this over with. I settled into a comfortable place, both mentally and physically, but no more then fifteen minutes passed until my computer froze again.

Heat spread to my cheeks, and I raised my hand again. At this point I would have expected the proctors to throw up their hands and shake their heads dismissively; they would say something like, "Sorry guys. We have a lot of kinks to work out. You will be assigned a new test date. Sign your name here." Something close. Instead, the proctors played a game of pass the phone, while they interpreted the instructions of whatever misinformed person was on the other line. The funny thing is that a handful of people were still taking the test. Their computers had not let them down. I felt a mix of jealously and regret for the people who had the dis/advantage of still testing. I took two bathroom breaks. So did others. The people outside were confused. Many were unable to sign in to test. Many left. I almost did too. I felt the anger rise in my voice when I asked the proctor what I should do. Then I walked away; what else could I do? I sat back down and waited. I got up and walked to the window and looked at my bird's eye view. I tried to reconnect with nature and feel a sense of calm. Good for a few seconds. As soon as I looked away I felt tightness in my chest again.

I got to the test before 10:30. Around 2:00 we were told that we would be contacted by the official test people about retesting. We had multiple questions that flew from our mouths like fireflies that had been trapped in a jar all summer. I left with the realization that I had no idea when my test would be. I have plans for the next two weekends. What do they expect me to do? What if I don't get to test in time to interview for teaching jobs? What will I do if I don't have a full-time high school teaching job in the fall? The questions tumbled against each other with a domino organized fall effect.

Standing in the rain, I looked around me. The campus was green and quiet. Two Indian boys in hoodies walked on the sidewalk in front of me. They were laughing and smiling. I felt my stress from the stressful environment pass through my exhales.

The next thing on my mind was lunch. Glorious lunch. I anticipated the tastes with a sudden fervor.

Cons: incomplete test, no idea when the makeup will be
Pros: it WILL happen "soon," I have more time to study, I had something to write about

happy rainy, dreary, overcast Saturday
Saira