Ministry Exams

"Aren't you going to start your test?" my grade 3 teacher asks me. She looks annoyed. I stare at her mustache; it's grey. She's a nice lady. I like her skirt. When I'm a big girl I want to have a skirt just like that.

"I'm finished," I tell her.

She makes a funny face; it's the same face my mom makes when I tell her that someone else ate the cookies -- even though it was me.

My teacher squints her eyes and stares at me. Why do grown-ups do this? I don't understand what squinted eyes mean.

"I don't appreciate your silly games, Karen." she says and reaches down to flip my workbook over. She points angrily at it and gestures me to open the front cover. Some of the other kids in the class look at me.

I shrug my shoulders and flip open the pages for her to see that I wasn't lying. I really was finished.

"That's impossible!" she says and grabs the workbook from me. "Did you even check your answers?"

I tell her 'no', and that seems to make her feel better. She smiles and puts the book down. "Karen, you can't just fill out anything. This is an important exam from the ministry. Please do it properly."

I nod yes, and open my workbook again. Maybe I should check my answers? I was pretty sure that the first ones I did were right; but since everyone else is taking soooo long to finish, I guess it won't hurt.

I start to go over the pages and think about my answers. Yep. Yep. Yep. Yep. Uh...Yep.

They all seem to make sense. I wonder if we're going to read "James and the Giant Peach" again today? I love that book. I love when my teacher reads it to us. I get to sit on the carpet and close my eyes and pretend that I too am James.

I look at the clock. Everyone else is still answering the questions. I don't know why it's taking them soooo long. Are they stupid?

The girl beside me keeps erasing her answers and re-doing them. I think she made a hole in her workbook with her eraser. She's using the school eraser -- the big pink one that isn't very good and only makes big grey smudges on the paper. I have a nice eraser in my pencil box that mummy gave me -- it has Rainbow Brite on it; and it's white -- so it keeps my paper clean when I make a mistake.

I pull out my pencil box. There's nothing else to do while everyone is finishing the test. I open the lid and begin to organize my pencil's and erasers. I look at all my erasers; I love them. There's the Cabbage Patch Kid eraser; and there's the eraser that I got at Nancy's birthday party in the goody bag -- it smells like grapes. There's the eraser that's bright green; and another eraser that has Grover on it from Sesame Street. My pencil box also has a note in it from the boy that sits beside me. He wants to play kissing tag at recess. I have to check the box, "yes" or "no"...I think I want to play British Bulldog instead -- or tether ball; so I will check "no" and give it back to him when the teacher is writing on the black board.

"PUT THAT AWAY RIGHT NOW!" my teacher yells. I look up and she's yelling at me. She's always yelling at me cuz I finish my tests early. I don't know why she hates me so much. But sometimes, when she's reading the books at story time, I think she doesn't hate me then.

I put my pencil box back in my desk. And pretend to write in my workbook. I have to pretend to work like the other kids in the class so my teacher won't get angry at me. I do this a lot.

Uh 0h. She's walking over to me again.

"I hope you realize that you are going to ruin your life if you never take anything seriously." she says and rips the book away from me. I try not to cry. She always yells at me and I always cry. The other kids call me a cry baby.

Mummy says I'm not a cry baby...that I'm just sensitive. And boisterous -- but I don't know what that means.

My teacher is flipping through my workbook at her desk. She seems happy that I've answered all the questions. I think she thinks that I didn't take any time to think of the answers -- but I did. It's not my fault that everyone else in this class is stupid. Why does she get angry at me cuz all the other kids are stupid? I always have to pretend I'm slow like them so she doesn't get angry.

"Pencils down." she says. The boy two seats over starts to freak out and flip through the pages writing anything he can. I think he is so stupid; but he's nice. And he draws really good when we have Art.

The teacher starts to collect everyone's workbook. The girls beside me start to talk about how hard the test was. I don't understand what was so difficult about it...why did they put me in the stupid class anyways?

"QUIET!!" the teacher yells.

The girls stop talking.

I lean back to stare at my pencil box that I had to put in my desk. Only 8 more minutes until recess. When she's not looking I will have to check "no" on the note and pass it back. I think I'll play British Bulldog today.




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