deepundergroundpoetry.com
THE EXAMINATION DESK
It was the day of nine o’clock G.C.S.E math’s exam. We lined up outside the lunch hall like conscripts awaiting basic training. The black painted mesh of the bike shed was flaking. I picked at it. I felt sick. I snuck into the drama block to smoke a roll up. It made me even sicker. I came back, I took my tie off, and then my jumper.
‘Where’s your tie?’ said Mr. Clumper.
‘I don’t feel well, you don’t need to a tie to pass an exam,’ I said.
‘Rules are rules. Put your tie back on.’
I obeyed. I looked at my friend. He was browsing a revision book. He was going to pass, and well. He never missed a day of school. I was always ill. There was a ruckus, some kid had cracked and had been taken away for fighting. Fighting outside the exam hall, maybe I could get into a fight. But I didn’t like to hurt people with my fists. I would do the exam. They would make me retake it if I didn’t. They were always telling us how important this exam was. They would say:
“if you fail your math’s exam, you will never get employment. If you fail your math’s exam you will be ostracized, they will send you to the isle of innumeracy, and you will make your dinner from foraged lichens and seaweed. If you fail your math’s exam your balls will shrivel and you may even go blind. If you fail, you had better go and kill yourself, for you won’t be able to handle the shame.”
I tried not to listen to the math’s teachers. They seemed to be hooked up to electrodes, every time a student failed they would get shocked by the headmaster. There was no place for art in a math’s classroom.
‘Line up, find your desk sit down in silence. Wait for the examination paper. Don’t open it until the examination begins. Don’t talk, don’t fart, don’t look at the person next to you, don’t chew gum, don’t look at the clock, don’t… don’t …don’t breathe if you can help it.’
We lined up again. I began to feel my stomach tense up. I felt like throwing up but couldn’t. Into the diner hall we went, it had the stale smell of salted food, floor bleach, and a new smell I had never smelt before, teenage fear. I’d smelt it before but not as intense.
‘Sit down at your desk. Don’t speak, don’t fart, don’t breathe, do not look at your examination paper.’ said the head examiner.
We sat down. The sound of three hundred pencil cases being opened and fiddled with filled the room. I looked down at my desk. It was old. It has been scratched, bitten, and worn by the sleeves of thousands of students. Each of them must have felt like me: scared, trapped, alone, and helpless. Some had written little bits of things. I read them:
“Fuck…cunt…Clumper’s a pedo…jimmy woz eer…you cunt.’
The worn wood desk had swallowed thirty years of angst and fear. I felt the desk with my palms. I felt the sweaty palms of thousands students before me. It didn’t help. I was trapped in silence for the next two hours. I couldn’t take it. It didn’t matter what the exam was. I wanted to run. I kept thinking, ‘Get up and get out. Fuck the exam, fuck the isle of innumeracy, get the hell out of there, you fool.’
I just sat there. My stomach tensing and contracting. The feeling of dreadful hopelessness growing thicker with every second of silence.
‘Turn your exam over.’
I snapped out of the dread trance. I turned my paper over.
‘Fill out your name in blue ink. Does anyone need a blue pen?’
Hands went up. I didn’t have a blue pen. I put my hand up. I got my pen.
‘It’s 28 minutes past nine. The examination will begin in at half past. At ten to eleven you will have ten minutes left to finish your exams…begin.’
The sound of three hundred papers opened in unison scrambled and went dead. The exam had begun. I started to sweat. I hadn’t prepared. I had spent my evenings getting stoned and my weekends getting drunk. I didn’t care for algebra, it brought me out in a rash. I didn’t care that Abigale had four apples, and that Barney had seven plums. The farmer who needed a milk tank that held 60 liters more than his last one wasn’t my problem. I took the scrap paper we were given to do our working out on and began to draw. There were mountains in my world, there were pine trees, even a dragon. But in my world the dragon wasn’t concerned with the affairs of men, and had no appetite for gold. He just lived in the mountains in peace away from the madness of men. Time went slowly by as I drew more.
‘In ten minutes the exam will finish.’
Ten minutes went.
‘Put your pens down, the exam is over. Remain seated until we have collected the papers.’
It was over. Euphoria flooded through me. I was getting out. I hadn’t written in the paper. I had my drawing of the world in my head. The papers were collected. I left the desk. It
Published 10th Dec 2022
Author's Note
I am so glad all the exams are over
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Anonymous
10th Dec 2022 8:56pm
I love it! Wonderful cool poem.
11th Dec 2022 3:50pm
Thank you for reading it.
It's just memories. I have been listening to novels by Charles Bukowski. and I have been expreimenting with a similar style.
Regards
James
It's just memories. I have been listening to novels by Charles Bukowski. and I have been expreimenting with a similar style.
Regards
James
11th Dec 2022 2:46am
Math was my worst subject in school.
My careers all had to do with math.
I worked in design departments and became an artist
All I really wanted to do was fuck chick's and get wasted
Funny how shit works out
Really good read
Felt the tension and the angst throughout
Trying to remember my locker combination
Left my wet jock strap in there on my last day of high school
Destined to be a failure in life, somehow skinning by .....
BIG LIKE
RL AWARD
My careers all had to do with math.
I worked in design departments and became an artist
All I really wanted to do was fuck chick's and get wasted
Funny how shit works out
Really good read
Felt the tension and the angst throughout
Trying to remember my locker combination
Left my wet jock strap in there on my last day of high school
Destined to be a failure in life, somehow skinning by .....
BIG LIKE
RL AWARD
11th Dec 2022 3:54pm
Thanks for reading it.
I was listening to Bukowski's Ham on Rye. It brought back old memories.
Women were far more important than maths.
If the exam had of been on getting wasted i would have passed.
Regards
James
I was listening to Bukowski's Ham on Rye. It brought back old memories.
Women were far more important than maths.
If the exam had of been on getting wasted i would have passed.
Regards
James
Anonymous
11th Dec 2022 7:29pm
I'm not much into long writings but man this piece of yours really kept me hooked onto it. I very much enjoyed your work here. You are awesome, dear James. You have the gift for writing novel, novella or short stories. You should start writing a blog or something about your life experiences. I'm sure people will love it. 😊
12th Dec 2022 1:51pm
Thank you for reading it.
I am very glad you enjoyed it. Thank you for your kind words. I think your idea about a blog is great.
I am writing short stories all the time. when I get a blog going I will send the link
Regards
James
I am very glad you enjoyed it. Thank you for your kind words. I think your idea about a blog is great.
I am writing short stories all the time. when I get a blog going I will send the link
Regards
James
Anonymous
12th Dec 2022 5:55pm
That's fantastic, dear James I'm so glad you are contemplating of starting a blog. 😊
