Beloved Exams And Other Devastating Stories
I will never say anything about any paper being easy or do-able EVER AGAIN.
I love Amaths, oh of COURSE I do. Who doesn't love Amaths when you've made 11 marks of careless mistakes and approximately 20 marks you didn't even ATTEMPT even though you had time to happily check for careless mistakes (which obviously wasn't successful either) and watch other people jab calculators like their lives depended on it while being SO SMUG that you finished the paper SO EARLY. And this amounts to a FAIL which equates to a RETEST IN JANUARY?
As if chinese isn't enough, now I have Amaths to mug for during the holidays when I KNOW MY STUFF AND SPENT TWO THOUSAND FIVE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-EIGHT WEEKS ON IT. Well, when I KNEW my stuff, since I have conveniently forgotten the next step after expanding (cotz + cosecz)2. FAIL amaths, FAIL amaths, when I did almost every single question in the textbook for practice. FAIL amaths. RETAKE amaths.
I don't ever want to go through the torture of skipping a whole page and panicking at the last minute because of time constraints and realising that I had just lost four whole grades of marks due to sheer STUPIDITY.
Imagine how my emaths would be like? By the way, I only memorised the formulae for emaths and hoped for the best. HOPED FOR THE BEST. Who HOPES FOR THE BEST during major exams?! Who knows, I may get higher for emaths, but then again subtract a little here and a little there for careless mistakes and P.A errors and TADAH! A fail. Then? RETAKE EMATHS!
Joy.
Chem bleeds, by the way. I have no more science left to depend on since my chem is ROCK BOTTOM when I expected a whole lot more and for my bio, heh, I can already picture myself getting screamed at by a certain curly-haired oily-faced blood-red-lipped person when I ask for marks. "STEW-PEED AH! STEW-PEED AH! I DON'T KNOW WHETHER TO LAUGH OR TO CRY AH! STARTS GIGGLING TO MYSELF"
I will never again write about a murder/a patient dying of some terminal illness/some crackpot old fool committing suicide for an essay. Or I can write about those, everyone turns out to be alive and kicking and lives happily ever after, the teachers love my story and I get A1.
I hate Mondays.
I love Amaths, oh of COURSE I do. Who doesn't love Amaths when you've made 11 marks of careless mistakes and approximately 20 marks you didn't even ATTEMPT even though you had time to happily check for careless mistakes (which obviously wasn't successful either) and watch other people jab calculators like their lives depended on it while being SO SMUG that you finished the paper SO EARLY. And this amounts to a FAIL which equates to a RETEST IN JANUARY?
As if chinese isn't enough, now I have Amaths to mug for during the holidays when I KNOW MY STUFF AND SPENT TWO THOUSAND FIVE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-EIGHT WEEKS ON IT. Well, when I KNEW my stuff, since I have conveniently forgotten the next step after expanding (cotz + cosecz)2. FAIL amaths, FAIL amaths, when I did almost every single question in the textbook for practice. FAIL amaths. RETAKE amaths.
I don't ever want to go through the torture of skipping a whole page and panicking at the last minute because of time constraints and realising that I had just lost four whole grades of marks due to sheer STUPIDITY.
Imagine how my emaths would be like? By the way, I only memorised the formulae for emaths and hoped for the best. HOPED FOR THE BEST. Who HOPES FOR THE BEST during major exams?! Who knows, I may get higher for emaths, but then again subtract a little here and a little there for careless mistakes and P.A errors and TADAH! A fail. Then? RETAKE EMATHS!
Joy.
Chem bleeds, by the way. I have no more science left to depend on since my chem is ROCK BOTTOM when I expected a whole lot more and for my bio, heh, I can already picture myself getting screamed at by a certain curly-haired oily-faced blood-red-lipped person when I ask for marks. "STEW-PEED AH! STEW-PEED AH! I DON'T KNOW WHETHER TO LAUGH OR TO CRY AH! STARTS GIGGLING TO MYSELF"
I will never again write about a murder/a patient dying of some terminal illness/some crackpot old fool committing suicide for an essay. Or I can write about those, everyone turns out to be alive and kicking and lives happily ever after, the teachers love my story and I get A1.
I hate Mondays.
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