tests
covid 19
pregnancy
calculus 101
driver’s
blood, glucose
immigration
the cannibals last wednsday
first love!
first job!
first impression!
grief!
publishing!
Chinese!
fatherhood?
competency?
life?
sanity?
being good?
understanding?
Spit in my face to make me go harder
Testing testing,
read all about me.
I'm the woman who pushes too far
pushes your patience,
and the nectar in my folds.
Taste it
lick it
break me
Fuck you.
Too bright to ever burn out.
Gifted or cursed,
I can be an expert at anything.
Test me?
You'll break before I fail.
I know the answers before you know the question.
Makes 'em madder when I pass.
When I pass them on the track.
500 calories a day.
Makes me push harder.
I want it more than you.
Test
Preston presses his finger on the space bar, making a long gap on his paper.
He deletes it right away, of course. It's a little ritual he does when he's nervous. Press down on the space bar for five seconds. Delete. Press down on the space bar again; five seconds.
Delete.
He's trying to write an essay— emphasis on trying. It's for a test. It's not that he doesn't understand the topic— as a matter of fact, he understands it quite well. But the words just... don't come. And now there's only a half hour left in the class. A half hour, and he has to write at least a two page essay. Two pages, and currently he only has five lines.
Name.
Class.
Professor.
Date.
Title.
And then of course, the long chain of spaces.
Which he deletes. And then remakes. And then deletes.
Fifteen minutes left in class, and he decides, screw it. Screw this test. The words won't come, so I'll just chug a bottle of word laxatives and shit out as much as I can.
So he writes. He spills out word after word.
He barely even knows what he's typing, he just closes his eyes and punches the keys.
This test is more than just a test. It's a roadblock, and he's going to shit on it, piss on it, jackhammer it to pieces, and then throw the remains off a bridge. Screw the test. Screw the topic. Screw everything.
He finishes, submits the essay without even proofreading, and shuts his school-issued laptop.
Once again, he rereads the words on the board, the prompt that had him so stuck.
FREE WRITE.
You’ve Been Pre-approved
“Jump.”
...and I wait. You jump, but you don’t jump high enough. It is a piddling, meandering effort at best. That’s your best? I glare with dissatisfaction.
“You fail! You didn’t ask how high, ne’er-do-well. Your pre-approval meant nothing.”
[Stronger letter to follow.]
Who’s testing who? (casual) But .... Who’s testing whom? (careful)
Test your nerves. Nerves of steel?
Stack the deck. How's it feel?
Testing’s fun ... when you’re smart.
TORTUROUS when you’re not.
Why are we to fixate
on the need for a grade?
Why can’t we let kids learn
nat’rally? They’ll discern
if we freak. Condescend,
rub their nose. Rub it in
to the shit like they’re dogs.
We go off at half-cock.
Let them rest. Let them be,
lest you wrest dignity
from their souls. Mercy, Me!
Build them up ... they’ll succeed.
Give your tests. Test away
on the ones who allay
all your fears and who can
work it out, work their plan.
Learning’s fun. Don’t you see?
They’re kids once.
Set them free.