Old Hat

â€Å"You may start your tests.†   Ã‚  Ã‚   I briefly fumbled with the finger pad of the laptop on the table in front of me before clicking the blue start button. The loading bar flashed across the screen for an instant, then was replaced by a setup I had become familiar with over the past few weeks; a scrolling passage box to the left, the multiple choice questions to the right, and a toolbar of various functions across the top. My eyes were drawn to the question first: a vocabulary one. Inwardly I relaxed and smiled. Vocabulary was easy. It was a word I already knew, so I ignored the passage, selected the answers for each part of the question, and clicked the ‘next’ button.   Ã‚  Ã‚   At the next question it occurred to me that I should probably read the passage. A selection from ‘Oliver Twist’? The title rung a few bells, so it was probably a classic I’d heard of somewhere. As I scrolled down, reading of the boy’s confronta tion with his master in asking for more food and subsequent reactions from those around him, I once again felt gratitude towards my existence in a time and place where life was much better. I finished and turned to the questions, answering first one, then the other after a pause. Click. On to the next one. Were there people already finishing? It couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes since the start!   Ã‚  Ã‚   A few more questions and I was confronted with a new passage. ‘The Life and Experiences of a Young Artist’, it was called. I read it right away this time, and the similarities to the previous story immediately became apparent. This young boy was just as pitiable as the last one! The short excerpt by itself was enough for me to become saddened by the character’s troubles. I instantly liked the boy who inquired after his health. If I were to read the entire book, I imagine I’d greatly enjoy his interactions with him. The following qu estions were answered without much incident until I reached the one I’d been anticipating with dread. The essay question.   Ã‚  Ã‚   The screen had changed. I could now switch the passage box between the two aforementioned stories, and the space where the multiple choice questions usually resided was now taken up by a box for typing in my answer. The question itself hovered over the box as a slightly daunting brick of text. I took a deep breath, glanced at the clock, realized I had no idea when we had started testing, and hunched back over my work.   Ã‚  Ã‚   It wanted me to compare how the dialogue in each of the stories revealed things about the characters. Joy. Time to start planning. Two passages, so three paragraphs; one each for the passages, and one more for a conclusion. I set about typing it all up.   Ã‚  Ã‚   Three and a half paragraphs later, I leaned back with a quiet sigh and rubbed my aching back. Those tables were ridiculously low! My brain was p retty fried, and I could only be thankful that I was in the afternoon testing group. I couldn’t imagine doing this on an empty stomach and half asleep! I clicked the end button and was presented with a confirmation page. I spared a moment to check to see if I had answered all of the questions and hit confirm, then logged off as I’d been previously instructed to.   Ã‚  Ã‚   There was supposed to be a second part after this session. How long did we have until it ended? Looking around and seeing most people idling in their seats, I determined not long. I wished I’d been able to bring my book with me. Instead, I looked down first at the pencil on my table, then at the piece of scrap paper we’d been provided with. I raised an eyebrow. Well, when life gives you lemons.          Ignoring my back’s protests, I leant down and began to doodle what would become a silly potted plant that vaguely resembled my band instructor as I waited for phase two of the testing to begin.