They talk of some strict Testing
Wednesday, 16 November 2005 09:04 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
freckles_and_doubtDiana Wynne Jones has a book called The Year of the Griffin, an inordinately fun mage-school story,which features a dwarf called Ruskin who has perfected a sort of reverberating, buzzing whisper in place of his usual booming bass, for use in the library, to stampede the librarian into giving him the books he wants as fast as possible. (I'd imagine Phlp would do it quite well, actually, although I'm still a little scarred by his falsetto performance at singing last night and hestitate to suggest any further vocal pyrotechnics). I mention the dwarf-voice, however, because the Mad Professor who ran yesterday's exam has one: his hushed whisper, for purposes of not disturbing the dear little exam-writing students, has a peculiar resonance which means it can be heard clear to the back row of the lecture theatre. It projects far better than his actual speaking voice; up close, it makes one's teeth buzz. I suspect he has a whole Greek theatre, with attendant acoustics, tucked away under his baggy, threadbare pullover. Since he's a pernickety, paranoid, innocently worried sort of person, he spends a large proportion of the exam whispering to fellow invigilators. Had I actually been writing the exam, I may have risen sharply from my seat in order to bludgeon him to death, but that's just me.
The invigilation made me feel slightly less guilty about my current state of exercise-avoidance, given as how it was Zoo 1, which is a raked theatre with no centre aisle, and consequently the worst possible exam venue. Dashing madly across the theatre to hand out extra paper or otherwise hand-hold insecure students who have suddenly forgotten how to read the English language, is the equivalent of dashing up a flight of stairs. Plus, there's the suppleness workout entailed in sidling sideways along the row, dodging sticking-out feet, leaning-back heads, and all sorts of junk on the floors. Challenging. It's certainly the only time I've ever managed to pull a leg muscle while invigilating, although, admittedly, history suggests I can do myself more serious injury by opening the fridge, so really no surprises there.
That was the last exam. I promise I'll stop blogging about exams now. I suspect it's giving everyone unpleasant flashbacks.
The invigilation made me feel slightly less guilty about my current state of exercise-avoidance, given as how it was Zoo 1, which is a raked theatre with no centre aisle, and consequently the worst possible exam venue. Dashing madly across the theatre to hand out extra paper or otherwise hand-hold insecure students who have suddenly forgotten how to read the English language, is the equivalent of dashing up a flight of stairs. Plus, there's the suppleness workout entailed in sidling sideways along the row, dodging sticking-out feet, leaning-back heads, and all sorts of junk on the floors. Challenging. It's certainly the only time I've ever managed to pull a leg muscle while invigilating, although, admittedly, history suggests I can do myself more serious injury by opening the fridge, so really no surprises there.
That was the last exam. I promise I'll stop blogging about exams now. I suspect it's giving everyone unpleasant flashbacks.
