They have no idea...
About anything! Least of all how the heat in there made my heart beat three times it's normal speed, how my hand gave up half way through, how I stared at the ceiling for at least ten minutes, and jumped a mile when they say "Time's up!" in that way they have that makes you KNOW they don't really care about us, not really. Only the money they get for sitting there and watching us with half an eye, for that money they pretend to care, and open the windows when we're hot, bring us water when we faint, and hide their relief when they can leave and make noise.
Whose idea was it anyway, that what we write when we're under pressure determines how successful we've been in the past 11 years? Who decides, "Give them three weeks to prove themselves, in the hottest time of the year." ?
And what was he thinking as he sat above us, fanning hot air around his face, staring lazily into nothing, clothes in dull beige cloaking him in anonimity, like the rest of them. Is there an invigilator uniform of dullness?
Whose idea was it anyway, that what we write when we're under pressure determines how successful we've been in the past 11 years? Who decides, "Give them three weeks to prove themselves, in the hottest time of the year." ?
And what was he thinking as he sat above us, fanning hot air around his face, staring lazily into nothing, clothes in dull beige cloaking him in anonimity, like the rest of them. Is there an invigilator uniform of dullness?
kiwiqueen - 8. Jun, 17:30