How I suck at them. All those questions that look nowhere familiar, all those choices that look the same. It doesn’t matter that the multiple choices render a small percentage of getting it right, if I pick something randomly it’s bound to be wrong. It doesn’t mean either that I’m good at the more practical stuff, or in anything else non-academic. You see, kids, no matter what they tell you in school things are not always mutually exclusive—you can suck at everything. Oooh, self-deprecation. I love it.
And don’t even mention the move exams. What’s with the fixation with move exams anyway? My entire life I’ve probably undergone hundreds of move exams, from the botany exams identifying that a leaf is caudate shaped, to those histology exams identifying lamina somethings, and now to actual diagnoses based on a fictitious case. A 35-year old female farmer. Hah. A 65-year old woman with regular monthly menses. Hahaha. If I have my way it would be a 24-year old clerk abducted by a Papua New Guinean tribe who engaged in cannibalism. You know what I’m driving at—Creutzfeldt-Jakob Disease!!!
The only good thing about these totally stressful exams is that no matter how you sucked there is always a huge wave of relief immediately after and a communal thirst for beer, singing, and oily food, and most importantly a communal urge to rant, rant, and rant. And my batchmates’ rants are always hilarious. They crack me up.
Over 3 years ago Ditz the Titz and I would always try to annoy everyone after a very difficult exam by parodying infernal GC’s (Grade Conscious). Ditz and I finished the infuriating OB-Gyne Internship finals in 30 minutes (after randomly answering all C’s), and as we walked along the aisle in the middle of perspiring GC’s we pumped our fists and vigorously exclaimed, “Yes! Yes! Samplex! Wooooh! Yes!!!”, giving each other high fives and laughing hyenically. Everyone shot us an annoyed glance. Hah.