Bittersweet: Musings from a Steamy Room

Giving oral English exams is already a bit of a death wish. Sitting for hours without a break, listening to the same few topics being discussed with various levels of low-ish competency, constantly taking notes and making calls on grammar, pronunciation, vocabulary, content, fluency, and participation for two students at once drains the brain like a steady leak in an inflated inter tube. Before the end, the brain has gone flat and the mind is begging for mercy. I once gave oral exams for nine hours without a break. Ahem, something did break. My sanity.

(To preserve our mental stability, my colleagues and I now divide the oral exams into two weeks. Less brain damage that way.)

From the students' perspectives, oral exams can be terrifying. They are given a daunting list of class topics beforehand and are expected to use vocabulary learned in class during the exam. When fear prompts serious preparation, the results are quite beautiful. I have had students amaze me with their preparation. Everyone is nervous, but not all are ready. I don't mark them down for nervousness, but after five years of doing this, I can spot a well-prepared student in an instant, even a midst the jangle of nervous mistakes and pauses. Unprepared students are more obvious than a round hay bale in a newly--mowed field---and unfortunately, much more numerous.

Combine the pain of oral exams with searing heat, long wait times, and no AC, and you have just added a new level to the word "miserable." Both teacher and students would rather be swimming. And sometimes things go from bad to worse.

No! Unprepared student who did not show up with your exam partner for this morning's exam, now is not the time to ask your teacher to let you pass the class anyway. Not now, in this hot room in the afternoon where you have just flunked the exam she let you take. Now is not the time to endeavor to enlist her sympathy, when twelve groups of students wait outside her door, sweating in the hallway as they nervously anticipate her calling their names.

 “Please give me a chance.”

“I gave you a chance, a chance to take the exam. Your pronunciation and grammar are amazing; but you were totally unprepared. You used one vocabulary word from class for the topic.”

“I used another word, too.”

“Two words from class is not enough to give you a good mark.”

I may sound cool and collected on paper but neither of us was in fine form that hot afternoon. He finally left, taking the fifteen minutes with him that he had stolen from all of the students waiting in the hall.

The classroom that was assigned to me actually has AC, but when I opened the door it was filled with students who thought it was un booked and were hoping to escape the heat. I elected to use the small side room with a broken door and a table littered with used tissues. I had used this room for mid-term exams, and the students and I had gotten locked in the room. That day, one of the boys jumped out of the window (only 3 feet above ground) and went around the building to let us out. 

Remembering that, I decide, this time, we won’t completely shut the door.

The students are hot, and most of them couldn’t fall asleep in their airless dorm rooms the night before. They sit down to begin their exam and I advise them to buy an inflatable swimming pool and set it up between their bunks. Nervously, they reach into the exam baggies to blindly choose their topics.

Some shine. Some flop. Many just get by. Some of them are so nervous I have to tell them to take deep breaths. Others seem composed.

Some make the most hilarious mistakes:

“I have many personalities.”  (He meant to say, I can say many things to describe my personality.)

“Long ago, there was a superman who had two sons.” (He meant to say, There was a rich man who had two sons.)

“I sink, if there was more terrorists, more happiness.” (He meant to say, More tolerance, more happiness.)

Some pairs make me smile:

Two boys come in with their biggest, winning smiles even though they serve up a poor exam. Usually good students, they know they have been weighed in the balances and found wanting. “Miss Sarah, can we pass?” They are laughing, embarrassed, and I laugh with them. “Um, not this exam!”

Certain classes have a higher level of English and their exam topics are much deeper. One pair of students pulls out the topic of discussing ethnocentrism.They demonstrate an ethnocentric conversation and I am laughing. Plus, they make the concept personal. “When we first came to Nanchang to study, we hated this place and hated Jiangxi. We love our hometown best.  But you know, this place is someone’s home, too.” They refer to clips from The King and I which we watched in class and my teacher-heart is warmed. Something stuck.

My brain is struggling as the exams drag on.  Out of habit, I say “See you later!” as the students stand up to leave. But now I realize with a pang in my heart, that's no longer true. Many of the students taking exams this term have only been mine for a semester (some for a year), but I will miss them.  Many of the students this Spring were such a joy to teach. And even after the ordeal of an oral English exam, some of them have told me that they will miss me, too. One sophomore girl began to cry hard, tears raining down her cheeks as she gave me a hug. I tightly hugged her back.

Students need classes; classes need a teacher, and both teacher and students need exams. We're all wrapped up in this together and saying goodbye to the worst part of the job means saying goodbye to the best part as well. 

Moments when I realize this make even the ending of oral exams bittersweet.