Having complained about how deadly boring the job of exam supervisor is, I have to say that it hasn’t been quite that bad on subsequent days.
Last week I supervised Ancient History, and spent a lot of time looking through the paper trying to remember the Ancient History I did at university. It was so many years ago that it really has become ancient history to me. But I remembereed some of it, and also spent time daydreaming about our trip, a few years ago, to Ephesus, and Troy, and Athens, and Delphi, and Rhodes and Crete — all places where those ancient events took place, and having now some sense of place and context, I decided I would go to the library and read up afresh on some of this stuff. (Note to self: have not yet gone to library!)
I also spent a considerable amount of time mentally composing a rather difficult and sensitive letter I had to write for a committee of which I am secretary.
But the following exam I supervised was all go! Again, I was interested in the paper, Legal Studies. It was only a small class of 15 students so I was the only supervisor. For 16 or more you have to have at least two supervisors.
Shortly after they came in, I was overjoyed to realise that two of them had head colds. This meant that they frequently asked for a tissue. It also meant that I could at regular intervals approach them at their desks, and offer them tissues, and I was gratified each time to see that they took two, three, four, and then a couple more just in case, and gave me a grateful smile. As well as this, I would notice when there was a pile of used tissues on the desk, and smartly approach them with the waste bin so they could dispose of them properly. I tell you, I was busy!
The icing on the cake for that morning, however, was that three students at various times asked to go to the toilet. The procedure is that I would poke my head into the adjoining room for the superintendent to come in while I left the room. Then I would note the student’s ID number on an incident sheet, get the key to the toilet, and we would head off – out of the room, down the stairs, across the quadrangle, to the disabled toilet. This has earlier been checked to make sure there are no notes or books inside, and has been locked ever since. I wait for the student and then we walk back together. I note the time on the incident sheet, and all is back to normal.
Of course, we can’t ask the students anything about the paper during these little interludes, but I do say to them on the way back, “How’s it going?” One of the students said to me, “Oh it’s not too bad actually. But I was getting a bit sick of sitting there for so long and I just wanted to stretch my legs.” Oh, how my heart warmed to him!
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