The signs of relief coupled with prayers of urgency that followed were just memorable. Candidates changed gear into all sorts of moods.
While some waited patiently for the ten minutes to be up, probably because they were done answering the questions or just couldn't answer the questions, others cursed their luck and wrote faster than a computer.
The flipping of answer booklets, the footsteps of the officers moving around the hall, the occasional ‘plumb’ heard when someone drops their pen on the floor.
These ten minutes just moved too slowly. Slumping down in my seat, I pondered on the year that had reached ‘injury time.’
And then the realization hit me harder than a rock. This wasn't just ten minutes to stop work. No, this was the last ten minutes of level 100.
In footballing terms, we had reached injury time, and it had not been an easy ride.
‘‘Stop work. All writing materials down.
All answer booklets to the left end of the table.
No extra movements!’’ the invigilator ordered.
I packed my answer booklet to the left end of my table and suddenly felt lighter than a sheet of paper.
It was almost as if a huge burden had been lifted off my chest. But what was it?
The invigilator reached my table and collected my paper. As he walked away, I took a quick glance around the hall.
The faces of the students cast a perfect summary of the year we had just had.
Some beamed, some were expressionless, others looked as though they don’t care, and a few also looked as though they had just been charged with death penalties.
It had been a long year.
#kab.
